Chapter Twenty-Six: Rules

As soon as Azure Dragon finished speaking, he braced himself against the door frame with both hands and kicked fiercely at Zhang Wenhao, who was standing by the washbasin. This kick was anything but restrained; he put all his strength into it.

Zhang Wenhao was not about to submit. He had already beaten up Chen Chong, that privileged scion, turning him into a swollen mess. How could he let some petty thug in the cell push him around?

Just as Azure Dragon's kick came flying toward him, Zhang Wenhao suddenly pivoted, stepping forward to meet the attack. He raised his right arm and clamped Azure Dragon’s leg tightly. Without hesitation, Zhang Wenhao lifted his own leg and kicked hard at Azure Dragon’s left leg, the one supporting him on the ground. The kick was aimed straight at the knee.

The knee only bends forward, but Zhang Wenhao’s force came from the front, pushing backward. The kick wasn’t his full strength, but a sharp crack sounded; Azure Dragon’s left leg was wracked with pain and numbness, and it immediately gave way. At that moment, Zhang Wenhao released his grip on Azure Dragon’s right leg, and with a thunderous crash, Azure Dragon fell flat onto the ground, his head hitting the floor with a heavy thud—a fall not to be taken lightly.

Zhang Wenhao was already simmering with anger. Azure Dragon had come looking for trouble, and now Wenhao had found the perfect outlet to vent his rage. He planted his foot firmly on Azure Dragon’s chest, making him cough violently. At this moment, Zhang Wenhao said coldly, “If your so-called rules are about using your feet, then these—are my rules.”

With that, the whole cell erupted into chaos.

To them, this frail youth of seventeen or eighteen entering their cell was like a real mouse entering a den of real cats. But they could never have imagined that the “mouse” was not only no mouse—he was a tiger.

“Kid, you’re bold, aren’t you?” Before the burly man known as Brother Meng could speak, a strong man in his thirties stood up beside him and strode straight toward Zhang Wenhao.

This man was at least six-foot-one, while Zhang Wenhao was only about five-foot-nine. The man’s physique was robust and intimidating, making Wenhao seem much less imposing by comparison.

“Azure Dragon’s had a taste of your rules. Now it’s time you tasted mine!” the man said, rubbing his left palm against his right fist. He walked up to Zhang Wenhao and suddenly launched a punch—a swift uppercut aimed squarely at Wenhao’s jaw.

Zhang Wenhao, though not as physically strong, was a master of practical combat. The man’s punch seemed powerful and fast, but Wenhao ducked easily, dodging the blow. Then, with a sudden burst from his bent legs, Zhang Wenhao sprang upward.

A punch from below struck the man’s chin directly. A sharp crack sounded as his teeth smashed together, a few possibly broken. But Wenhao knew this blow alone wouldn’t incapacitate him; he needed to eliminate his fighting ability quickly.

The man’s jaw stung, his mouth filled with shards and the taste of blood. Instinctively, he reached for his face. Wenhao could have struck him below the belt, crippling him for weeks, but he disdained such low tactics. Instead, he turned his arm into an elbow, driving it hard just below the man's abdomen—right at the bladder.

It wasn’t the groin, but just above it—the bladder, where urine is stored. When the bladder becomes too full, it triggers the urge to urinate. If the urge is too strong and not relieved, the only option is involuntary release.

A sudden torrent.

Yellow urine began streaming down the man's pant leg, draining away his strength. He clutched his abdomen, groaning, utterly unconcerned about the embarrassment of wetting his pants.

Zhang Wenhao glanced at him and said in a cold voice, “If I’d gone an inch lower, wetting your pants would be the least of your worries. You’d never be a man again.”

Everyone in the cell was stunned. Wenhao’s counterattack against Azure Dragon could be explained as Azure Dragon being too careless—using both hands to brace himself and attack, making it easy to be countered. But now, seeing the burly man reduced to wetting himself, they realized they had underestimated this not-yet-eighteen-year-old.

Wenhao spoke, “I’m just a high school student. I don’t know what rules you all follow in here, and I don’t want to cause trouble. But don’t think that just because the horse is gentle, it must be ridden. I’ve never seen much of the world, but my father always told me stories of fighting in Laoshan, on the southwestern border, risking his life against the Vietnamese. I’m young, but I have backbone.”

The men looked at one another in confusion. Brother Meng narrowed his eyes at Wenhao and asked, “Your father fought in that war?”

Wenhao frowned back, “He’s the man I respect most. Why would I invoke him just to mess with you?”

“Good!” Brother Meng barked. “My own brother is buried in the southwest, buried in Malipo!”

He continued, “Kid, you’ve got skill and guts. If I wanted to mess with you, no matter how good you are, you couldn’t win in here alone. But I admire your spirit. You’re young, but a real man. From now on, nobody in this cell will trouble you again.”

“Thank you.” Wenhao cupped his fists in a respectful but steady gesture.

“Azure Dragon, Old Ji, you listen up, and the rest of you too: from now on, don’t cause trouble for this young brother. Otherwise, you’ll be crossing me.”

Azure Dragon struggled to his feet, dragging his numb left leg to sit on the lower bunk. He rubbed his leg and said weakly, “Kid, you’re ruthless. A bit more force and you’d have broken my leg.”

He then glanced at Old Ji, who was squatting and clutching his belly. “Old Ji, you alright?”

Old Ji’s face was grim. Wetting himself was humiliating, hard to accept. Brother Meng commented, “Azure Dragon, count yourself lucky. He didn’t use his full strength. Otherwise, your leg would be broken.”

Azure Dragon was stunned for a moment, his face crestfallen. Clearly, being schooled by a seventeen-year-old in front of everyone was hard to swallow.

Old Ji felt the same.

He said nothing, but after regaining his composure, he took clean underwear into the bathroom. When he came out, his embarrassment had faded.

Old Ji looked at silent Zhang Wenhao and asked, “Kid, you’ve trained?”

Wenhao nodded.

Old Ji pursed his lips, frustrated. “Damn it, I’ve trained too. Four years of sanda—never lost one-on-one. Today, I lost to you.”

“Sanda isn’t much,” Zhang Wenhao replied coolly. “Nowadays it’s mostly performance. I train in real combat, with one goal: to cripple the enemy as fast and hard as possible.”

A gray-haired man nearby smoked and commented, “Kid, training in such ruthless methods will bring you trouble. I bet you landed here because you hurt someone too badly, right?”

Zhang Wenhao shook his head. “It was self-defense. But the person I beat was the district chief’s son, so I ended up here.”

“District chief?” Brother Meng asked, frowning. “Which district?”

“Jiangxin District,” Wenhao said.

“Kid, you’ve got guts,” Brother Meng praised. “You dared to provoke Chen Ru—truly fearless. But it’s a bit reckless. Hitting the district chief’s son will bring big trouble to you and your family. What do your parents do?”

“They’re ordinary workers.”

“Oh.” The crowd’s expressions shifted. Azure Dragon sighed, limping over to pat Wenhao’s shoulder. “Kid, we’re all from ordinary families. Don’t act rashly. Always think not just for yourself, but for your family. Now that you’re here, your parents must be worried sick.”

Wenhao’s expression darkened. “I’m not afraid of what they’ll do to me, but I’m afraid they’ll go after my parents, and I’m afraid my parents will worry.”

Brother Meng shook his head. “Kid, you’re still too young. I had a friend who ran an arcade. He had some business trouble with Chen Ru’s nephew, and got beaten up. Soon after, his arcade was shut down. He got six years for intentional injury and gambling. You’re even bolder—hit Chen Ru’s son directly. Chen Ru is notorious for his ruthlessness.”

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Here’s the second update for today. Begging for your votes!