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

"Haha, you guys don't have the guts, I'll take over! Let's see if he has three heads and six arms!" A figure leaped onto the boxing ring, lifted the hem of his long robe, and bowed to the Black Prison Lord opposite him: "Zhao Changwu challenges you!"

The Black Prison Lord's lifeless eyelids twitched slightly, but he only glanced at the spot briefly before remaining rooted to the spot, completely still.

"This is Zhao Changwu, the Unpredictable Hand. He is skilled at dislocating tendons and bones and his attacks are extremely vicious," Ah Zhong introduced in a low voice.

Song Beiyou nodded, his gaze fixed on the center of the boxing ring. He also wanted to see just how much strength the Black Prison Lord was hiding.

The gong suddenly rang out, and the battle began instantly.

Seeing that the Black Prison Master was slouching and ignoring him, Zhao Changwu's eyes flashed with a fierce light. He moved quickly with his feet close to the ground, his hands moving in a series of claw-like movements. When he was three steps away, he suddenly exerted his strength and grabbed the Black Prison Master's loose shoulders.

The Black Prison Lord's bulging eyelids suddenly opened, his shoulders trembled slightly, and his body moved like a startled python leaping into the forest, closing in on him in an instant with a simple and unadorned Central Palace Thrust Fist.

Bang! The muffled sound made the boxing ring ropes vibrate. Zhao Changwu flew backward, his back slamming hard against the ropes. He spat out a mouthful of blood, his face instantly turning ashen. He slumped to the ground, completely exhausted.

Song Beiyou's pupils contracted. The Black Prison Master's speed was astonishing, almost on par with his own. Such a master would still be willing to fight in underground boxing matches? What true master would willingly fight to the death on stage, letting others watch a monkey show?

What's even stranger is that this person is a prisoner. There's a team of prison guards below the stage. Given the Black Prison Master's skills, would he be afraid of the guards? It's truly strange.

The official announced the winner loudly, and the stands erupted in wild cheers. Although the odds for Black Prison were low, it was a sure thing, a fact the gamblers had long recognized.

Two more people then took to the stage to challenge him, and without exception, both were completely defeated in a single round. Among them was his original opponent, Buddha Yama, whose Hung Kuen style was powerful and solid, but he could only barely parry two moves before being severely injured, spitting blood, and leaving the stage in a sorry state.

To protect the bookmaker's interests, the betting table had already limited the bets on the Black Prison Master. A large number of gamblers didn't even bother to look at the boxing ring, but instead crowded around the betting table, betting on the Black Prison Master to win as soon as someone dared to step onto the stage.

A ring official, holding a megaphone, paced back and forth in the ring, his voice cutting through the noise: "Who else dares to challenge the Black Prison Lord? Is he going to easily claim the title of boxing champion again tonight?"

"Go for it! If you've got the guts, go for it!"

"Don't be a coward!"

"Defeat the Lord of the Black Prison and become famous overnight!"

The crowd below erupted in chaos, with many gamblers so anxious that their eyes turned bloodshot and they were almost delirious.

Song Beiyou glanced at his watch; the hands were fixed at 10:21. It was his turn to perform. He planned to collect the reward and head home as soon as possible. That afternoon, he followed Uncle Bao to the three-story villa he had chosen. It had a deep well in the courtyard, electricity from the city, and was located behind the tailor shop on Taomi Street. The owner had asked for 1,200 silver dollars, which he bargained down to 1,000, but only gave him two days to complete the transaction in cash.

Just as he was about to take a step, a figure rushed onto the arena first, laughing casually: "I've come to meet the Lord of the Black Prison."

Song Beiyou looked up and saw the middle-aged man surnamed Zhou standing next to Chang Shao. The outcome of this man's fight with the Black Prison Master was uncertain.

The spectators cheered again, not caring about the challenger's identity, only that the new betting pool could be opened and bets placed.

"Wait, this is against the rules." A cold voice interrupted the noise. Mr. Lou walked out slowly, his gaze sharp as a knife, and went straight to the arena.

"Mr. Minglou, rules are rigid, but people are flexible. I only want to fight him once."

"Brother Wanchuan, tonight is the championship of boxing. Only registered boxers can step into the ring." Jiang Minglou stood at the edge of the boxing ring, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Zhou Wanchuan narrowed his eyes and looked back: "Mr. Minglou, isn't even Young Master Chang's face enough?"

Jiang Minglou said calmly, "Rules and face should not be confused."

"Haha, what a fine way to say that rules and face are not to be confused. I remember your boxing rules clearly: a newcomer who wins five consecutive matches is qualified to challenge the reigning champion."

Zhou Wanchuan turned around and cupped his hands towards the boxers' rest area: "Gentlemen, I hope you'll give Young Master Chang some face. Who would like to exchange a few blows with me?"

Song Beiyou remained aloof, temporarily suppressing his desire to go on stage, and quietly watched how things unfolded.

Six boxers immediately stood up, one more than required. The first one to stand up clasped his hands in a fist and said, "I am no match for you, and I willingly admit defeat."

"We concede too," the others followed suit.

Zhou Wanchuan looked satisfied and cupped his hands in thanks, saying, "Thank you all for your help." He then turned towards the second floor, "Mr. Minglou, now that's enough, isn't it?"

Jiang Minglou nodded slightly: "Since we're following the rules, you may naturally step onto the stage. But the boxing ring has no eyes; you are responsible for your own life and death. Please."

The Black Prison Lord, standing in the center of the boxing ring, remained silent from beginning to end, his drooping eyelids never lifting an inch, as if all the surrounding disputes and noise had nothing to do with him.

The opening gong sounded again.

With his hands behind his back, Zhou Wanchuan walked unhurriedly across the filthy boxing ring in his black cloth shoes as he slowly approached the Black Prison Master. A cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth beneath his beard: "Whether you're black or white, if you've displeased Young Master Chang and lost a large sum of money, I'll teach you a lesson on his behalf."

Song Beiyou's gaze was fixed on the two figures. Manager Chen had mentioned that Zhou Wanchuan practiced Xinyi Liuhe Quan, which emphasizes guarding the center and using the center, unifying the six elements, and achieving a high degree of harmony between mind, intention, qi, strength, body, and form. He was a true master of hidden strength.

Zhou Wanchuan took five steps away and suddenly lunged forward. At the same moment, the Black Prison Master raised his lowered head, his eyes flashing with a terrifying cold light. His loose shoulders suddenly trembled, his right arm swung like iron, his palm opened like a winnowing basket, and he unleashed the Eight Extremes Mountain Splitting Palm, directly striking the opponent's forehead, completely ignoring the incoming fists.

Zhou Wanchuan naturally refused to fight him to the death. Seeing the strong wind pressing down on him, he quickly pulled back his fists and blocked the attack upwards.

But in a battle between masters, the slightest difference can lead to a world of difference. This instantaneous withdrawal of his attack gave the Black Prison Lord an opening. He charged like a raging bull, delivering a powerful, mountain-hugging strike that slammed into Zhou Wanchuan's chest.

Zhou Wanchuan hurriedly stepped aside to dodge, but the Black Prison Master's combo had already arrived. He struck the ribs with a horizontal elbow, spun around the waist and leaned in again, followed by a series of piercing elbow strikes. His fists and elbows were interlocked, and he kept fighting. His offensive was as fast as a whirlwind, giving him no chance to breathe.

Zhou Wanchuan's expression changed drastically, and he retreated repeatedly. However, the Black Prison Master was like a leech, and the two figures moved swiftly across the boxing ring. The sound of fists and palms clashing was as dense as a sudden rain, making people's eardrums tighten.

Suddenly, Zhou Wanchuan let out a muffled groan, his feet sliding half a meter across the ground before he stumbled back three steps. The gray cement beneath his feet cracked, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. The Black Prison Lord pursued relentlessly, his aura like a raging python devouring its prey. Zhou Wanchuan cried out in shock, "You...you're not human!"

He tumbled to the ground in a panic, falling out of the boxing ring, his face deathly pale as he screamed hoarsely, "I surrender!"

Song Beiyou was secretly shocked—the Black Prison Master's strength far exceeded his expectations. His authentic Bajiquan was fierce and unparalleled, and even a senior master of internal strength could not withstand more than a few moves.

The sound of a teacup shattering came from a private room on the second floor, but it was instantly drowned out by a tsunami of cheers from the audience.

Song Beiyou raised his wrist again; the time was 10:40. It was his turn to go on stage, finish the match, and go home immediately.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, took off his coat, and removed his watch from his wrist. His movements were slow and steady, without the slightest hint of impatience. He casually handed the watch to Ah Zhong, saying, "Put this away for me."

Ah Zhong quickly took it, reached out to support his arm, and said with concern, "Be very careful, don't underestimate the enemy."

Song Beiyou nodded; this middle-aged man did indeed have some sincerity.