Chapter 11: Fellow Boxers, Stronger

The muscular man in a stretch shirt remained silent, eyeing Fang Cheng intently.

At a height of over 1.8 meters and a broadly built frame, his mere presence was menacing without needing any words.

Fang Cheng became alert, slightly tilting his shoulders and stepping in a staggered fashion, readying a low-hand stance.

Always ready to switch between offense and defense.

The muscular man halted his steps, maintaining just over an arm's length distance.

Then, looking confused, he asked:

"Have you also trained in boxing, are you a fellow practitioner?"

Fang Cheng paused, eyeing the burly man in front of him, who resembled a bear.

The muscular man's eyebrows slightly lifted, then he engaged more enthusiastically:

"The way you deceived with your gaze and feints before snatching the knife, and that changing direction hook punch was pretty good!"

"Ever competed in matches? We could spar sometime."

His words even carried a hint of admiration.

"Brother Ma..."

Ah Dong groaned, finally catching his breath from the "liver burst."

After Fang Cheng knocked out the blond guy with a punch, he was momentarily mindful of the legal battles regarding excessive defense.

Thus, the following two quick punches were faster but much less forceful.

After all, it was his first time using Iron Fist on someone, and he feared losing control and causing internal bleeding.

"Oh—"

The muscular man seemed to have an epiphany, then vigorously wiped his face and switched to a fierce look.

"I don't care whether you are a colleague or not!"

"Isn't it right and proper to repay debts, and do debtors deserve to be righteous?"

He shouted loudly, turning to the onlookers and security guards.

"Right, everyone, tell me, what's wrong with our actions?"

Seeing that he seemed not entirely malicious, Fang Cheng relaxed a bit.

"You're causing a commotion here, affecting other patients' rest. If there's a dispute, you can ask the police for help and resolve it at the police station."

Hearing Fang Cheng say this, Ah Dong pouted and couldn't help retorting:

"Do you know who we are? We are from the Poison Snake Gang..."

"Cough, cough!"

The muscular man coughed loudly twice, quickly taking over the conversation:

"We are debt collectors from a regular financial company."

Fang Cheng didn't care about their actual background, continuing politely:

"What's the use of taking the child? He has leukemia. If his condition worsens, who will be responsible?"

"By law, you'll definitely have to face manslaughter charges, or are you willing to cover the child's living and medical costs?"

"After he recovers, if there are issues, you can seek settlements, even in court, and you'd stand on firmer ground."

"You make... quite some sense."

Perhaps swayed by Fang Cheng's polite demeanor, the muscular man stroked his chin, beginning to muse.

"Seeing as you're quite reasonable, fine, I'll give them another month."

"One month should be enough to gather the interest, right?"

He turned and looked at the nervous young couple.

"Thank you, thank you!"

The young couple hugged their child tightly, nodding repeatedly.

It was unclear whether their thanks were directed at the gang or at Fang Cheng.

The muscular man shook his head, quietly cursing, "What a headache."

Then he went over to the still soundly sleeping blond guy and slapped him across the face.

The blond guy groaned, slowly coming to.

Seeing the unexpectedly harmonious scene, he mumbled:

"Bro, didn't you tell me to be tougher?"

"Shut up!"

The muscular man scolded, then instructed another underling:

"Ah Dong, take him downstairs for a check-up. See if there's a concussion – our boxer's fists are no joke."

Just as the three of them chose to keep the peace and prepared to leave,

The muscular man seemingly remembered something, turning back.

Digging in his pocket for a while, he pulled out a crumpled business card and handed it to Fang Cheng.

"Let's keep in touch when you're free. I'll introduce you to some boxing friends, improving through sparring."

After he spoke and smiled, he walked away with his two companions.

Fang Cheng was noncommittal, examining the business card.

"Black Snake Financial Company, Debt Collection Team Leader, Ma Donghe."

The debt collectors reached the elevator, their distressed voices faintly discussing how to explain to their boss.

As there was no more spectacle, the onlooking crowd gradually dispersed.

A group of security guards came one by one to Fang Cheng, sincerely expressing their gratitude for resolving the trouble.

Eventually, only the young couple remained, still tightly hugging their child, sitting on the ground, deep in thought.

"I just said that!"

"The guys from Poison Snake Gang can't respond that quickly..."

Li Dingjian emerged from somewhere, his mask down as he muttered quietly, looking rather relieved.

Then, eyeing Fang Cheng intriguingly, he sized him up as if seeing him for the first time.

"How come, you don't recognize me?"

Fang Cheng was composed, tidying up the sleeves he had rolled up during the fight.

Li Dingjian pinched his arm and clicked his tongue repeatedly:

"Boy, have you been secretly training in martial arts? You're looking more and more handsome…"

"Chengcheng, what happened to you, I heard you fought with thugs?"

During the conversation, anxious footsteps and Li Biyun's voice came from behind.

Fang Cheng looked back and saw the worried expression on his mother's face, so he hurriedly explained:

"No, those people weren't thugs…"

"Sister, you just missed a great show."

Li Dingjian quickly took over the conversation, animatedly saying:

"Ah Cheng just gave those thugs a few punches like the Boxing King descending, almost reminiscent of brother-in-law's grace back in the day!"

Fang Cheng and Li Biyun turned their heads simultaneously and glared at him fiercely.

Li Dingjian gave an embarrassed smile, instantly shut up, shrugged his shoulders, showing an apologetic gesture.

Grandpa had already been woken up by the noise.

Fang Cheng stayed in the hospital room with his mother and uncle, chatting with him.

Of course, most of the time, they were the ones talking; Grandpa could only nod in acknowledgment and respond with grunts.

According to the doctor, the tubes could probably be removed in two days, and he could eat liquid food and talk normally.

After changing the IV fluids, the old man, exhausted, fell asleep, and both mother and uncle had things to attend to and left.

The room fell back into silence.

Only the intermittent beeping of the monitor and the faint voices in the hallway could be heard.

Fang Cheng sat dryly, a bit bored.

So, he stood up, leaned his hands on the cold tiles, and started doing push-ups.

Once a habit forms, it's hard to change.

Even a slight slack-off triggered feelings of guilt.

Like his future self facing failures, looking back to blame his current self for not working hard enough.

The burly man called Ma Donghe was no ordinary thug.

Fang Cheng felt a strong pressure from him, as if being targeted by a fierce beast.

Even more so than the professional trainers and boxers at the club he felt.

This pressure wasn't just a physical disparity but likely stemmed from the aura developed through frequent battles.

Fang Cheng had kept a calm expression throughout, but his body had remained tense, on guard for any sudden attack from the opponent.

Perhaps, with his current boxing skills, he might stand a chance against professional boxers.

But in the face of absolute strength, all techniques seemed irrelevant.

If the opponent hadn't chosen to retreat, and a real fight broke out, Fang Cheng wasn't sure he could leave unscathed.

When a man encounters danger,

Either vent the stress using someone else's body,

Or hone one's own body, building enough confidence to overpower the opponent.

Fang Cheng chose the latter.

Midway, a nurse came in for a routine check.

Seeing him vigorously doing push-ups, her gaze carried a hint of bewilderment.

Fang Cheng didn't care about the stares.

Watching the panel, silently counting the numbers.

[You have completed 6 standard push-ups, Skill Experience +1]

[You have completed 6 standard push-ups, Skill Experience +1]

[You have completed 7 standard push-ups, Skill Experience +1]

.........

As the progress bar passed the halfway mark, approaching the lv0 limit, the speed of skill experience growth slowed down.

Upgrading to lv1, like the boxing, the effectiveness of routine exercises would significantly diminish.

Like the opponent encountered in two real fights.

The fat drunk, whom the panel labeled as "an equal opponent."

Easily defeating him, experience soared by 20 points.

Whereas the two thugs often brawling on the streets only received the title "nameless pawns."

The experience gain from beating them was barely different from the drunk's.

But on reflection, it seemed quite reasonable.

After upgrading boxing skills to lv1, the panel rated it as "expert level."

Even if those thugs had rich fighting experience, compared to an expert like himself, weren't they just rookies?

Fang Cheng got up, catching his breath.

Clasping his hands, he stared at the prominent veins on the back of his fists.

As the skill levels increased, his physique continuously strengthened.

Rather than saying, the opponents he would face were becoming stronger,

It would be apt to say that the challenges he needed must be strong enough.

The greater the difficulty, the higher the rewards.

To break through the "boxing" skill limit, the method was to erect imaginary foes, practice Air Attack, and simulate real combat.

To break through the "push-ups" skill limit, continuing the basic repetitive practice clearly had low efficiency.

The most appropriate method was to increase the difficulty of each movement.

Fortunately, the Skill System of the "Prisoner's Six Arts" was well-developed.

Each fitness skill had corresponding advanced training methods that could be unlocked in order, gradually improving.

This required no worry on his part.