Seeing Bai Hao's silence, Ding Wu appeared unperturbed and continued, "I promised Ye Sang I'd give you a good 'lesson.' But seeing your skills, that won't be an easy task. Nevertheless, I will act. After all, I gave my word, and the brothers in this cell rely on his… favors. So, I must make a move. The outcome, however, is of little consequence."
His tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable firmness.
A flicker of surprise crossed Bai Hao's composed face. He didn't understand Ding Wu's intent—why state so bluntly and forcefully the intention to harm him? He turned his head slightly, casting a complex look at the cell boss opposite him, and asked earnestly, "Why tell me?"
Yes, why would Ding Wu tell him? Wouldn't a sneak attack be more effective? Was this a form of psychological pressure?
Ding Wu smiled slightly, his expression placid. "The reasons are simple. First, it's my style—I prefer to act openly. Second, even a surprise attack from behind wouldn't guarantee success. And third… I find you agreeable."
Bai Hao was inwardly taken aback. While he remained somewhat skeptical of Ding Wu's reasons, a part of him—perhaps sixty or seventy percent—found them believable. After a silence of over ten seconds, he took a light breath and asked softly, "When do you plan to act?"
Since the other party was being forthright, Bai Hao would be direct about what concerned him most.
Ding Wu did not answer immediately. He seemed lost in thought for a few moments, then a faint smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Tonight. Probably around midnight."
"Understood. Will all nine of you come at me together?" Bai Hao swept his gaze over the other eight men in the cell. Some were listening intently, while others continued to eye him curiously.
Ding Wu nodded, his reply simple and clear. "Yes."
Following this, the two spoke no more. The other inmates in the cell began talking amongst themselves as if nothing was amiss, with the fat man, Zhang Dachong, becoming the target of their jests.
Zhang Dachong wore a sour expression. Within the cell's hierarchy, there was a clear pecking order. Ding Wu was the undisputed head, the sky of this small world. The other eight deferred to him. Zhang Dachong, being the latest arrival and of average skill, occupied the lowest rung.
When he first entered, he had been forced to sleep on the cold floor for a full three days and occasionally endured minor humiliations. However, within the broader context of the detention center, he counted himself fortunate. The brothers in this cell presented a united front to the outside. Inmates from other cells dared not bully him; some even tried to curry favor. This gave him a sense of thriving within the detention center walls. The fat on his body had only decreased slightly during his first few days; since then, it had stubbornly remained.
Finally encountering a newbie to bully, Zhang Dachong had been exhilarated. He understood the cell's dynamics—the tenth bunk was mostly vacant, specifically reserved for the disobedient or those needing a "lesson." To put it plainly, the nine men in this cell were essentially enforcers cultivated by the detention center staff, handling tasks inconvenient for the guards openly. In return, they received occasional perks.
Seeing Bai Hao, Zhang Dachong naturally assumed he was a soft target, ripe for intimidation. He never imagined that upon confrontation, hewould become the soft one, thoroughly crushed. Now, he was the butt of his fellow inmates' jokes. While outwardly forcing smiles, inwardly he seethed with resentment, shooting Bai Hao venomous glances as if wishing to devour him whole.
Bai Hao, seated in the innermost corner, noticed Zhang Dachong's baleful looks but paid them little mind. The man posed no threat. His primary concern was midnight. He was deeply curious about the seemingly languid cell boss lying opposite. What strength did he possess to so "honestly" reveal the time of the attack? In Bai Hao's subconscious assessment, the man was either a genuine expert or merely bluffing. Regardless, caution was warranted. After all, it wasn't a one-on-one fight. In an open area, he might have more confidence, but within the cramped confines of this cell, facing nine opponents simultaneously would be exceedingly difficult to handle.
Time flowed by, second by silent second.
Soon, night fell.
Bai Hao sat cross-legged on his bunk, waiting quietly. The other inmates showed no unusual signs, though during dinner they had huddled together, seemingly deep in discussion.
As the night deepened, the cell grew quieter.
Around ten p.m., the cell lights were extinguished at the guards' reminder, plunging the room into darkness, broken only by the sound of steady breathing.
Bai Hao did not lie down. He remained seated in a meditative posture, eyes lightly closed, but his ears were sharply attuned to every rustle and whisper in the room. Although Ding Wu had said midnight, Bai Hao maintained high alertness. Their interaction had been brief. While Ding Wu's words carried a convincing air, that didn't equate to trust. Letting his guard down and being ambushed would be a regret he couldn't afford.
The night was utterly silent.
Midnight. The cell lights flicked on precisely.
Bai Hao, squinting, scanned the nine men. A trace of gravity appeared on his face.
The lights had been switched on by Zhang Dachong at the front; the switch was nearest his bunk, making it his usual duty. Now, a mocking smirk played on his lips, his eyes fixed on Bai Hao in the corner, gleaming with a cold, resentful venom.
Cell Boss Ding Wu reclined on his bunk, in no hurry to open his eyes. Only after half a minute did he slowly do so, his gaze settling on Bai Hao. A faint, ambiguous smile touched his lips. He let out a soft sigh and said mildly, "It appears it's midnight. Our little engagement should commence."
Several other inmates in the cell, either leaning or sitting, their eyes also half-closed, clearly hadn't been sleeping either. They all seemed to have been waiting for this moment. Some examined Bai Hao in the corner with excitement; others had already slipped off their bunks; a few were cracking their knuckles, seemingly ready to strike at any moment...
In the surveillance room of the South Suburb Detention Center, two guards watched a monitor with faint, amused smiles. One said excitedly, "Heh, the show is finally starting!"
The screen they watched displayed the feed from Bai Hao's cell, showing him in a standoff with Ding Wu and the eight others.
"This kid must have offended someone important. If I recall correctly, he was only brought in today," one guard chuckled, a note of curiosity in his voice.
The other guard replied with schadenfreude, "Definitely. Warden Liu himself gave the order for 'special care.' Only someone who crossed a major figure would receive such… hospitality."
"Oh, a personal order from Warden Liu? That's top-tier treatment. This kid won't have an easy time here from now on." The first guard's face briefly flickered with a hint of sympathy, but it vanished in an instant.
"Naturally. Look, it's about to begin."
…
Inside the cell, Bai Hao's expression was solemn. He stared intently at the nine men standing a few meters away, his fists already clenched. His heart felt heavy. Against three or four, he would be confident. But facing nine simultaneously, no matter his skill, resisting their overwhelming numbers would be extremely difficult.
The cell's layout had changed. The ten bunks had been pushed to one corner, clearing a small open space in the center for the impending confrontation.
Ding Wu stood at the forefront of the nine, his gaze steady as still water, fixed on Bai Hao. Yet, he was in no rush to attack. Instead, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out, lit it, and inhaled deeply, consuming nearly a third in one drag. He then held the cigarette out to Zhang Dachong beside him.
Zhang Dachong obediently took it, wearing a fawning smile.
Ding Wu exhaled a long plume of smoke, his expression relaxing slightly. He gave a light chuckle, his tone casual. "Alright, that's enough. The rest of you, hold back. Let me test his skills first."
Upon hearing this, Zhang Dachong and the other seven immediately took several steps back, almost reaching the iron door. To be honest, they had utmost confidence in Boss Ding Wu. Within the South Suburb Detention Center, few could rival him.
Bai Hao was inwardly surprised. He hadn't expected the other to forgo a group attack in favor of a one-on-one duel. This immediately boosted his confidence. If he could swiftly defeat the cell boss, it might intimidate the other eight, at least alleviating some pressure for any subsequent fight. However, he remained tense. Since entering the cell, he hadn't seen Ding Wu fight. The man had consistently presented a languid demeanor, so his capabilities were unknown. As the cell boss, Bai Hao believed he was certainly no pushover.
Ding Wu took a deep breath, his fists suddenly clenching. An aura of domineering force instantly erupted in his eyes, and his tone gained a sharp edge. "Alright, let's begin."
Bai Hao subtly shifted his right foot half a step back, adopting a balanced offensive-defensive stance, and gave Ding Wu a slight nod.
The moment Ding Wu finished speaking, his left leg bent, then propelled him forward. His right fist lifted slightly and shot directly toward Bai Hao.
The punch was astonishingly fast, cutting through the air with a faint whistle.
Bai Hao's pupils constricted slightly. From Ding Wu's movement and speed, he quickly judged his opponent was no ordinary fighter. The punch was swift and powerful, beyond the capability of an average person. Yet, he felt no panic or fear. He reacted with utmost speed, his body coiling slightly, right fist gathering power before launching a fierce counter-punch.
Thud!
A dull impact echoed as the two fists collided.
Fist against fist. Force meeting force in the most direct confrontation.
Bai Hao felt a heavy shock travel up his arm. The power behind the other's fist was not the least bit inferior to his own, even carrying a faint, suppressive edge. The tremendous impact forced his body backward. He staggered three full steps before steadying himself.
Incredible strength!Bai Hao's expression shifted slightly. He had always held great confidence in the unique fist technique taught by the enigmatic Master Yin Ya. Unlike ordinary physical training, it significantly enhanced one's bodily capabilities, especially in the initial stages, where it felt almost transformative, with strength and speed improving daily. However, after reaching a certain level, the rate of improvement plateaued, becoming as slow as that gained from regular exercise.
He had practiced this technique for over three years. The first two years saw rapid, dramatic progress, his physical capabilities multiplying several times over his pre-training state. But afterwards, no matter how diligently he practiced, improvement seemed to hit a wall, advancing only at a glacial pace alongside regular conditioning.
Of course, he had consulted Master Yin Ya, who had dismissively stated the technique was meant to unlock human potential. Once that potential reached its limit, progress would naturally halt. This was somewhat frustrating. According to the master, it meant his potential had been maximized, leaving little room for further growth, hence the stagnation.
Nevertheless, Bai Hao knew that even with the plateau, his current strength and speed far surpassed that of an ordinary person. In past hand-to-hand fights, this had always given him ample confidence. Yet, in the clash with Ding Wu moments ago, though not a full-power strike, he had exerted roughly eighty percent of his strength. Even so, he had been slightly overpowered. This indicated the force behind Ding Wu's punch was greater. Naturally, this realization stirred considerable shock within him.
Ding Wu was also forced back by the impact, but he regained his footing after only two steps—one less than Bai Hao. However, no trace of triumph showed on his face. Instead, it was instantly replaced by a grave seriousness. He knew that taking one less step didn't signify superiority; it was due to the advantage of initiating the attack. That punch had contained his full, one-hundred-percent force. Bai Hao, reacting, had had the space to muster only seventy or eighty percent of his. Yet, with that percentage, the newcomer had withstood his full-powered strike. The implication regarding their comparative raw strength was clear.