Song Zhiyuan glanced at Li Feng and sneered, “You go first, so you can’t say I’m bullying you.”
According to the terms of their bet, each would back one fighter in the arena, but with only two fighters, the first to choose had an advantage, leaving the other to either concede or pick the remaining one. Song Zhiyuan didn’t want to lose out, but Li Feng’s words made it seem like he was being generous, which irritated him.
As soon as he spoke, Song Zhiyuan regretted it. If Li Feng agreed, wouldn’t he be at a huge disadvantage?
“Since Song Shao is so courteous, I won’t decline,” Li Feng said with a smile. Song Zhiyuan’s face instantly darkened.
“Song Shao, I’ll pick the one in red.”
The two fighters in the arena were similar in height and build. One wore blue, the other red, locked in a brutal fight, trading blows with raw power. Their speed and strength were beyond what an ordinary person could withstand. Their footwork was agile, their movements precise, like a boxing match on TV, full of blood and excitement.
The two seemed to fight flawlessly, cautious and calculated, but to Li Feng, their moves were riddled with flaws. He could easily predict who would win.
“Then I’ll take blue,” Song Zhiyuan said, fuming.
“What, Song Shao isn’t backing out? Don’t cry if you lose. Though, I’ve never seen you cry before. I’m kind of looking forward to it,” Li Feng taunted.
“Li Feng, don’t push it. Believe me, I can make sure you don’t leave this place,” Song Zhiyuan said coldly, glaring at him. He had come to Tianhai City for fun, but after failing to intimidate Li Feng and now being mocked, his anger was boiling over.
“I believe you, of course,” Li Feng said with a smile, completely unfazed, making Song Zhiyuan’s face turn livid.
Glancing at the two fighters locked in a fierce struggle, Li Feng’s lips curled into a slight smile. “Song Shao, I’m betting fifty million. You in?”
“Fifty million?” Song Zhiyuan’s pupils shrank, and he sneered, “Young Master Feng, aren’t you aiming a bit high? Can you even come up with fifty million?”
“Fifty million’s nothing. I’m not a pauper like you, Song Shao. Look, here’s a Citibank cheque for five hundred million,” Li Feng said, waving the cheque in front of Song Zhiyuan.
Song Zhiyuan’s expression changed. With his keen eye, he could tell the Citibank cheque was genuine.
Damn it! How does this kid Li Feng have so much money? Wasn’t he exiled by the Li family to Tianhai City? Apart from his Xiangfeng Investment Company with Hu Yuanyuan, didn’t the Li family cut off his resources?
Damn it, who’s responsible for this intel?
“Song Shao, don’t tell me you can’t even come up with five hundred million? Show me what you’ve got, so you don’t embarrass yourself later,” Li Feng said.
“Hmph, you think I, Song Zhiyuan, am short of money?” Song Zhiyuan pulled out a gold card and said to Li Feng, “What’s a cheque? If you’re so great, show me a gold card. This is a Huaxia Bank gold card, with a credit limit of at least two billion. When it comes to money, you’re still far behind.”
Li Feng laughed, “Good, good, good. Now I don’t have to worry about Song Shao not being able to pay up.”
“You…”
“Song Shao, you lost,” Li Feng said, looking at the arena with a sudden smile.
As he spoke, the red-clad fighter landed a punch on the blue-clad fighter’s chest, sending him flying. He crashed to the ground, unable to get up.
“Damn it,” Song Zhiyuan cursed under his breath.
“Fifty million, Song Shao. Thanks!” Li Feng laughed heartily, relishing Song Zhiyuan’s defeat. He felt an indescribable satisfaction, even sensing the deep-seated hatred in his soul vanish, as if two souls had perfectly merged.
“Don’t get cocky, Li Feng. This is just the start,” Song Zhiyuan glared at him venomously.
Li Feng replied, “I visited a fortune teller before coming out today. He said I’d have great luck. I think my good fortune is just beginning.”
Turning to Zhang Yaokun and the others, he said, “You three, want to join in? It’s a shame not to take Song Shao’s money.”
“Liu Shao, Li Quan, you too.”
“How can I miss out on something this fun? But, Young Master Feng, your five hundred million is about to run dry,” Zhang Yaokun said arrogantly, looking at Li Feng with disdain. “Need me to lend you some?”
“Zhang Shao’s so generous, easing my worries. But who wins or loses isn’t set yet, and the one borrowing might not be me,” Li Feng said, a cold glint in his eyes. Zhang Yaokun was firmly on Song Zhiyuan’s side, so he wouldn’t hold back.
Seeing two new fighters enter the arena, Li Feng chuckled, “Song Shao, your turn first, so you can’t say I’m bullying you.”
A flash of anger crossed Song Zhiyuan’s face, but this time he didn’t object. The difference between choosing first or second was significant, and he didn’t want to lose again.
“I’ll pick red.”
“Red? Song Shao, you sure? No regrets later.”
“Hmph, Li Feng, are you a woman? So much chatter,” Song Zhiyuan snapped.
Li Feng looked at Zhang Yaokun, Zong Yanshan, and Gu Shan. “What about you?”
“I’ll pick red.”
“Red for me.”
“Red too.”
The three spoke up one after another.
“And you two?” Li Feng turned to Liu Shichao and Li Quan.
“Young Master Feng, I’ll pass,” Liu Shichao said, shaking his head. He couldn’t afford to offend any of these young masters, so staying out was his best option. Of course, if Li Feng insisted, he wouldn’t refuse, as his life was in Li Feng’s hands.
“Young Master Feng, I don’t have that kind of money,” Li Quan said, shaking his head. He didn’t think Li Feng would win. In his view, Li Feng’s earlier win was just luck. If he joined the bet, he’d have to follow Li Feng, being his lackey, so he opted out.
“Looks like I’m stuck with blue,” Li Feng said, looking at Song Zhiyuan and the others with mock helplessness.
“You can give up,” Song Zhiyuan sneered.
“You think you’ve got this in the bag, Song Shao? I’m picking blue, and this time I’m betting one hundred million. You in?” As he spoke, Li Feng unconsciously clenched his fist.
Song Zhiyuan caught his expression and sneered, “I’ll bet two hundred million. You game?”
“I’m in for two hundred million.”
“Two hundred million for me too.”
Zhang Yaokun and the others chimed in.
“I don’t have that much. I’ll bet fifty million,” Gu Shan said, glancing at Li Feng calmly.
“No problem,” Li Feng said, as if provoked by Song Zhiyuan. Glaring at him, he said fiercely, “My luck hasn’t run out today. I’m winning this one. I’m betting five hundred million.”
“Young Master Feng…” Gu Shan looked at Li Feng with concern. It was hard to tell who was stronger in the arena, but Song Zhiyuan wasn’t weak, and his judgment was sharp. If he picked red, red had a good chance of winning. In Gu Shan’s view, Li Feng’s five hundred million bet was purely impulsive.
Before Gu Shan could finish, Song Zhiyuan cut him off, “Young Master Feng’s so confident, how can I not join in? I’m betting five hundred million too.”
Just as Gu Shan thought, Song Zhiyuan was certain of victory. Not only could he see the gap between the fighters, but the red-clad fighter was someone he’d brought, prepared for the boxing championship. He knew this fighter’s strength well; in this small underground arena, he was unbeatable.
Earlier, Song Zhiyuan had worried Li Feng would bet first. He hadn’t expected Li Feng to be so bold. In that case, if he didn’t take a big slice out of Li Feng this time, he’d feel he was letting himself down.
Li Feng, you’re asking for it. Let’s see how I deal with you.
A cold smile curved Song Zhiyuan’s lips.
