During the Republic of China era, I achieved unparalleled success by returning to the past.

The stands were like a boiling pot of porridge, with constant shouting matches.

"Kick! Kick faster! Iron Leg, kick it even faster!"

"Ah You, you have to defeat him! You have to break Iron Leg's leg! I bet you'll win!"

"You idiot! I'll break your legs first! Iron Legs are invincible!"

"Hey kid, come at me for a fight!"

"Got it! Ah You hit it again!"

Song Beiyou's second boxing match has begun. His opponent, Chen Tiezha, is a Northern Spring Kick user who excels at attacking the lower body.

Seeing his opponent unleash a series of low kicks, rolling towards him like an iron wheel with a powerful gust of wind, Song Beiyou spun around, pushed off with his heels, and instantly leaped to his opponent's side. He extended his right arm and struck with the force of his fist, landing a powerful punch on his opponent's shoulder once again.

The force of the punch pierced Chen Tiezha's body, causing him to stagger and lose his footing. Clutching his right shoulder, cold sweat rolled down his forehead, his eyes blazing with fury. He couldn't help but curse, "What the hell do you mean by hitting me in the same spot all the time?!"

Song Beiyou didn't pursue. Before the serum injection, encountering such a skilled legworker would have required caution. This man was three or four levels stronger than the straw-sand-wearing fellow he'd first met. But things were different now. The serum had continuously modified his muscles, joints, and nerves, and with the added 20% speed boost, he was truly formidable.

"You keep kicking my lower body, so I'll hit your shoulder. That's perfectly reasonable."

Chen Tiezha gritted his teeth: "Fine, fine! You forced me to this! I was originally planning to save this move for the Black Prison Master, but I'll let you experience it first!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Chen Tiezha shouted and gathered his strength, then suddenly leaped into the air, unleashing a series of kicks aimed straight at Song Beiyou's chest. According to his calculations, Song Beiyou would either dodge to the side or parry head-on.

If the opponent dodges, he immediately follows up with a powerful back kick to finish them off; if the opponent parries, he seizes the opportunity to grab their head and arms, and then delivers a knee strike.

Neither of Chen Tiezha's two planned responses materialized.

The moment his feet left the ground, Song Beiyou, as predicted, took a step forward and charged forward. Without dodging or parrying, he delivered a penetrating punch straight into the opponent's airborne opening, striking the same spot again—his right shoulder.

Bang! Chen Tiezha felt a jolt throughout his body, the world spun around him, and he tumbled several times in the air before crashing onto the boxing ring with a thud. His entire right arm and shoulder were numb, and he felt powerless all over, unable to get up for a while.

"Ah-you! Jade-faced Ah-you has won again!" The official raised Song Bei-you's hand and shouted excitedly.

"Ah You! Ah You! Ah You! Well done!" The stands erupted in cheers.

Infected by the enthusiasm, Song Beiyou smiled, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and bowed to the surroundings.

An inconspicuous corner.

"Senior brother, this kid is hiding his true strength. He's had it easy in both matches. He might not be easy to deal with."

A middle-aged man with a buzz cut and a rough face raised his eyebrows and said, "My target is the Lord of the Black Prison; today is just the opening act. This kid's fist techniques and speed are not bad, but he's still a bit lacking."

……

On the second-floor VIP stands, Zhang Feilong crossed his legs, watching Song Beiyou walk off the stage. His eyes gleamed, and he muttered to himself: "This little bastard fought me the other day, but it seems he didn't show his true skills. Hmph."

Suddenly, two soft mounds pressed against his back, and said in a coquettish voice, "Congratulations, Second Master, on acquiring a fine steed and winning two races in a row."

"Ouch!" The woman's fat buttocks were pinched hard. Zhang Feilong laughed, "You have such a sweet tongue."

The door was suddenly pushed open, and a young man wearing overalls and with his hair slicked back walked in without any hesitation, saying with a smile, "Brother Feilong, congratulations, you've won money again."

Zhang Feilong turned his head, stood up, and greeted him with a smile: "Young Master Chang, please have a seat."

Chang Shao sat down without ceremony, put his feet on the coffee table, reached into a rose gold carved cigarette case, took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. He flicked his brass-plated lighter, "ding-pfft," took a puff, and then said, "Your fist is not bad, it has potential."

Zhang Feilong, puffing on a cigar and smirking, said, "I just unearthed this kid; he still owes me money. How can he compare to Young Master Chang's fierce henchmen?"

Both men looked at Sergei, who was swaggering around on the ring.

Young Master Chang raised an eyebrow and said smugly, "How about we let the two of them fight in a couple of days?" His gaze swept over the sea of ​​black spectators below, "Let's chop off a bunch of onions and harvest a wave of leeks."

Zhang Feilong's eyes lit up: "Great! Thanks a lot, Young Master Chang, for bringing me wealth!"

……

"If this continues, I'm afraid no one will dare to fight him anymore. He's not even human." Ah Zhong clenched his fist angrily.

"Ayou is better off avoiding him. He's tough and you can't hurt him at all. But if he catches you, you're dead."

On the ring, Sergei raised his arms high: "They're all trash! Isn't anyone even worth a fight?!"

Song Beiyou remained silent.

The other boxers were also angry but dared not speak out.

"You East Asian monkeys, you're all trash!" Sergei shouted arrogantly on the ring, pointing his thumb down. On the ground lay another man in a mandarin jacket, his legs twisted backward in an unnatural way, his trembling hand reaching out towards the edge of the ring as if to say something, but his throat had been shattered.

"Brother! Please spare him, he can't get up anymore!" A girl with braided pigtails and wearing a traditional Chinese jacket cried out in anguish by the boxing ring.

"Hahaha!" Sergei laughed cruelly, bent down, grabbed the man's ankle, and lifted him upside down. Blood dripped from the man's mouth.

"Brother! Let him go, he's already lost!"

Sergei's granite-like arm muscles suddenly tightened, and he swung his hundred-pound body around like a sack being torn apart, slamming it hard towards the crying girl below the stage!

Song Beiyou's cold eyes flashed like lightning beneath his brows. He suddenly exerted force with both feet, smashing the wooden chair with a "crack," sending wood chips flying everywhere! Using the momentum, he shot forward like an arrow, intercepting the flying figure in mid-air. He stretched out his arms to catch the person, twisted his waist and body to dissipate the force, and landed steadily.

The man gripped his arm tightly, seemingly trying to say something, when suddenly his body stiffened, his eyes widened, and his hand fell limply to his side.

"Brother!" the girl rushed over.

Song Beiyou put the man down, turned around abruptly, looked at Ah Zhong with a chilling glint in his eyes, and said, word by word:

"I'm going to fight him in the third match."

These words were like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the clamor of the entire room.

Even the girl's heart-wrenching cries abruptly stopped, leaving only gasps. All eyes turned to the young man with bloodstains on his white shirt.

Ah Zhong felt a chill run down his spine as Song Beiyou's sharp gaze pierced him. He swallowed hard and advised, "Ah You, don't be impulsive..."

Song Beiyou remained calm, a grin revealing his gleaming white teeth: "I'm very calm. In the next match, I'm going to beat him."

"Ayou, he's not your opponent tonight. You'll have another chance later." Zhang Feilong, a cigar dangling from his lips, stepped out from behind the curtain, a smile on his face, but a warning in his eyes.

Song Beiyou looked up at him, his tone indifferent: "Second Master won quite a bit tonight, didn't he? Bet on me again next time, and I guarantee you'll win once more."

Zhang Feilong's smile slowly faded: "I'm doing this for your own good. If you want to fight, of course you can." After saying that, he returned to the private room, his face gloomy.

"Hehe, Brother Feilong's fist is being disobedient," Chang Shao said with a smile.

"Hmph, young people are just too impulsive, they don't consider the consequences of their actions."

"Well, then Second Master will have to find another good boxer. I'll take my leave now."

Bang! The door to the private room slammed shut. Zhang Feilong grabbed a teacup and smashed it on the floor, scattering tea shards everywhere.

……

Clang! The gong rang out.

The short ringman leaped onto the boxing ring, glanced at Song Beiyou with admiration, raised a megaphone, and shouted hysterically, "Ladies and gentlemen, Jade-Faced Ayou, tonight he will challenge the Muscle Giant, Sergei—!"