Chapter 3

Volume 1 Chapter 3: Zixu Crosses the Pass!

When Li Yan opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a row of white fluorescent tubes. The surrounding clamor of shouting and the pungent smell of cigarettes gave him a bit of a headache.

He sat up, touching the concrete floor, and looked around.

Li Yan was now sitting sprawled against the wall, directly facing a five-meter-square boxing ring. To his left, tiered seating spread out in a curve—no fewer than several hundred seats packed with people. They were currently screaming themselves hoarse at the ring, vigorously waving white paper slips in their hands, eyes bloodshot.

“This is… underground bare-knuckle boxing? Where’d that fat guy go?”

Li Yan muttered to himself.

At that moment, amid the incredibly noisy environment, a hoarse, low voice reached Li Yan’s ears with perfect clarity.

“Walker, welcome to Yanfu. We have already prepared a new identity for you. It will not arouse anyone’s suspicion. Please rest assured and raise hell to your heart’s content.”

Immediately after, Li Yan clearly saw small black characters on the nearby wall, formed by smoke:

Time: AD 1986
Location: Mong Kok, 22.35° N, 113.5° E.
North of the New Territories, Hong Kong—Kowloon Walled City. Cramped, filthy, crowded, pitch-dark. Drug trafficking, smuggling, murder, robbery. Casinos, brothels, opium dens, heroin parlors, dog-meat canteens stood in abundance. Public order was in chaos, and criminal gangs ran rampant.
This is the city of sin, the city of garbage. This is the city of violence, and also the city of huge profits…
The requirements for this Yanfu event are as follows:

Fight to the seventh bout on the Kowloon boxing stage.

Obtain any fragment of the Guxiaoshuo Goushen Lu.

Awaken the Guhuo Bird within the Guxiaoshuo Goushen.
(The Yanfu event officially begins when any one condition is met.)
The maximum time you may stay is one month. (Please note: once you lose a boxing match, the current Yanfu event progress is disregarded and you will return immediately.)
Mo’s Gift: Gain additional purchase authority (1/1)
Your personal information is as follows:
Name: Li Yan
Status: High fever, inflammation, bleeding.
Talent: Ancient Martial Arts 81%/100%
Li Yan stood up and stared at the talent line for a while, always feeling there was something left unsaid in it—something he just couldn’t figure out yet.

While Li Yan was pondering these things, a palm reeking of sweat and cheap cigarettes came swinging at his head.

“Smack.”

Li Yan caught the newcomer’s wrist and was about to exert force when a stream of cursing like exploding beans hit his ears.

“Standing here playing zombie? You son of a bitch! Get up on the stage and fight.”

He glanced at the newcomer—a man in his forties or so, wearing an ill-fitting suit. His face was all bulging flesh, his bean-sized eyes wide open, somewhat fierce and somewhat comical.

Li Yan quickly lowered his head, released the man’s wrist, and swept the wall with the corner of his eye. Sure enough, only messy smoke stains remained—no characters could be seen.

The man had been startled by Li Yan’s gaze at first, but seeing Li Yan lower his head, he quickly regained his swagger, straightened his suit, spat on the ground, and muttered: “Dumbass.”

“If he really can bring me to 1986 Hong Kong, then there’s no reason my illness can’t be cured.”

Li Yan walked silently toward the boxing ring, trembling slightly inside.

“Next, please welcome tonight’s fighter with the highest betting total! He’s a real powerhouse—he’s claimed he’ll fight through the entire gauntlet tonight and defeat all six fighters below the stage!”

The slick-haired, powdered-faced host on the platform shouted into the microphone with an exaggerated tone, trying to whip up the atmosphere.

Li Yan felt not the slightest discomfort in this environment. The monster in the audio-video store had drawn out a long-dormant ferocity in this man. He walked to the edge of the ring and was about to climb up when a security guard in black sunglasses stopped him.

“Over there.”

The man pointed at several fighters standing below the ring.

At that moment, the venue suddenly erupted with a tsunami of shouting. Li Yan looked up and saw a lean, dark-skinned man with his arms crossed over his chest mount the stage.

“Chachai! Chachai! Chachai!”

Li Yan watched the man called Chachai with a half-smile. He wore a tight tank top, his whole body rippling with knotted muscle. Thick calluses had formed on his knees and elbows.

As if sensing Li Yan’s gaze, Chachai turned his head and fixed his eyes straight on Li Yan below the stage.

Li Yan exchanged glances with Chachai for a moment, then walked toward the five fighters standing below the ring waiting for Chachai to pick from them, secretly astonished.

He could see a faint, dim red glow coming from this man—and the others seemed not to notice it. More interestingly, when he examined the fighters around him, he saw the same red glow on them, though even dimmer than Chachai’s.

The host on the platform shrugged and said in a deliberately relaxed tone:

“I don’t need to tell you how ferocious Chachai is. Those who bet on him to win will make money today. Next, please let Chachai choose his first opponent for today.”

Chachai’s wolf-like, savage gaze had been fixed on Li Yan the whole time. Only when Li Yan reached the middle of the fighters’ position did he raise his hand to signal the host, pointing his finger at Li Yan!

A wave of boos rose from below the stage. This pale, tall, thin young man didn’t look like a fighter at all. Some veteran gamblers at the ring were even more certain—this was a completely unfamiliar face they’d never seen before. He was either a hotheaded punk trying to make quick money, or a student boy drowning in debt who’d been forced onto the stage.

The host glanced at the slip in his hand and shouted loudly:

“Chachai has selected fighter Li Yan! Li Yan, enter the stage!”

Li Yan rolled his shoulders and neck, then vaulted onto the platform.

Chachai flashed a cruel smile and made a throat-slitting gesture at the expressionless Li Yan.

Li Yan stared at Chachai, whose body swayed left and right opposite him, and leaned slightly back, assuming a Koubai stance.

Some spectators whistled from below.

“Kid, even if you dress up as Bruce Lee, you can’t win.”

“First match, they just grab some nobody to throw a few punches, the real excitement comes later.”

Many in the crowd had come expecting Chachai to win six in a row, not to mention the gamblers who’d bet on Chachai fighting through the whole gauntlet.

This man named Chachai was born in Trang Province in southern Thailand. His Muay Thai teacher was the boxing champion Nai Fot, known as the Comet of Southern Thailand! He had studied Muay Thai for twenty years and had kicked apart countless sour orange trees! Without sufficient strength and confidence, Chachai wouldn’t have dared declare he’d fight through the entire gauntlet on the Kowloon stage.

Suddenly, Chachai charged forward, a fierce, fast straight punch aimed right at Li Yan’s face. His left foot paused imperceptibly—the knee strike beneath was already loaded and ready. This was a fairly common attacking pattern in Muay Thai: use the straight punch as a feint, use the knee strike to open things up, and once he gained an advantage, it would be a storm of elbows and knees!

Li Yan stepped to the left, his left palm curving slightly to hook Chachai’s punching wrist and lift it upward. His right hand passed straight through from the outside of Chachai’s right arm, locking toward Chachai’s neck.

This ghost-like speed startled Chachai. Before his knee could even rise, the opponent’s palm was less than a foot from his throat! He instinctively dodged left—and the Li Yan before him vanished!

Before he could react, it felt as if the back of his knee had been smashed by a small hammer. Chachai’s lower body went weak and he dropped to his knees, bean-sized beads of cold sweat rolling down.

Behind him stood Li Yan, expression cold, having just risen from his crouch.

In the front row of the stands, a man with a gold chain around his neck, wearing a white suit, tilted his head and murmured to himself:

“Zixu Crosses the Pass? Baguazhang?”

The man in the suit saw it clearly—Li Yan had slipped through Chachai’s armpit and delivered a kick to the back of his right knee.

It was precisely Zixu Crosses the Pass from Baguazhang!

An uproar swept through the audience below.

What the hell? The Thai guy was taken down in a single exchange, and by a completely unfamiliar face at that.

Many cursed and threw their paper slips down onto the floor, the crowd in an uproar. Everyone suspected Chachai of throwing the fight.

Chachai stood up with a dark face, worked his right leg, and raised his fists at Li Yan.

“My turn.”

This time it was Li Yan who dashed forward, a right straight punch aimed at Chachai’s cheek.

Chachai cautiously guarded his face and solidly blocked the punch—but unexpectedly, Li Yan’s right leg snapped out in a kick, his shin aiming at Chachai’s crotch. It was exactly what Chachai had intended earlier!

A savage light flashed in Chachai’s eyes. Li Yan’s fighting style was a massive humiliation to him. Despite the lingering pain in the back of his knee, he thought nothing of it and drove a knee strike upward.

But what Chachai didn’t notice was that his shin hadn’t risen very high—its power far from full—when Li Yan’s shin, still in the air, folded straight outward and burst forth with astonishing speed again, viciously kicking at the side of Chachai’s knee!

“Crack.”

The shouting from the crowd below cut off abruptly. They clearly saw Chachai’s knee joint broken clean by Li Yan’s kick! His entire lower leg twisted at a bizarre angle. Chachai lost his balance and crashed to the ground.

Li Yan touched his nose, where two streams of blood were running down.

He glanced at the wide-eyed host and lifted his chin: “Announce it.”

The host stared blankly at the fallen Chachai, swallowed hard, and then stammered:

“Th-the winner of this match, Li Yan.”

Chachai, who had vowed to fight through the entire gauntlet, was taken down in the first match—even the most experienced gamblers had their jaws drop.

Li Yan on the stage raised his hand expressionlessly:

“Wasn’t it supposed to be a gauntlet? Chachai lost. Who’s fighting me next?”