Chapter 22: Chapter Twenty‑Third

Bai Lang rotated the cup in his hand, gently pushing the woman sitting in his lap aside, and looked at the person who pulled out a pill, "No, I won't take this. Moreover…" Bai Lang gulped down the drink in the cup in one swallow, "I should go back to rest. Have fun." He even stressed the words "fun" and "happy." The guy who produced the pill wore a very displeased expression, and the few side‑drum players also looked unhappy, but there was really nothing to say.

Who made Bai Lang still their fighter now, and to lure him, to force him… these few people can't force him at all. If they could force him, others would have stepped in long ago. Now that Bai Lang is leaving, none of them dares to block him—though someone dares to call right after he leaves. Since the cheaper plan of using addictive drugs to control this fighter has temporarily failed, they'll revert to the traditional method of buying him with money.

That raises the cost, but also the success rate, and the atmosphere between the parties will be better. When Bai Lang returned to his residence, he found the agent handling his match affairs already waiting. The agent was blunt, pulling out a stack of dollars and saying he hoped to stage a fixed fight… Bai Lang almost laughed, "So crude in business? At least we could chat about future matches first, then beat around the bush before finally pulling out cash to buy me, right? Straightforward from the first meeting? I like it."

Bai Lang looked at his agent, "A fixed match? I don't mind, but you'd better pick a suitable opponent. If you're performing with me, at least the acting should be decent." Maintaining his reputation of never losing, Bai Lang wasn't obsessed with that—he was confident in his martial skill, and wins or losses wouldn't shake his belief that he is the strongest person in this world.

Bai Lang thought so because his Golden Bell Shield had cleared the first barrier, his Tiger Form was already achieved, and now he could be called a martial‑world person—are there still such people in this world? If they could also cultivate Internal Force, perhaps, but this world seems ultimately unable to cultivate Internal Force. The heavens and earth have a flaw; the entry to Internal Force cultivation is practically inaccessible. It's unclear whether there are still masters in China who can approach his level, but in Dong Nan Ya there probably aren't any.

A fixed fight doesn't affect him, and earning some money isn't bad, but Bai Lang's request is that he also wants to try guns. That's easy; in Tai Guo places are extremely lax, you can get a few guns in the countryside to play with, and it's no big deal in such organizations. However, stronger weapons won't be given to him; pistols are the limit for these people—that's also because of Bai Lang's cooperation.

Relying on his strong control over his own body, Bai Lang quickly got used to firing a pistol. What he needs to understand isn't the pistol's power, but how to counter pistols and spears. "Dodging bullets isn't realistic, at least not now. But by judging the shooter's muscles, gaze, and sixth sense, one should be able to avoid the line of fire. Against armed enemies, you must take the initiative and kill them before they hit you."

While resting, Bai Lang also thought and simulated; he should be able to do it, because his Lightness Skill speed can accelerate to a very high level over short distances, making it impossible for a gunner to swivel the barrel and react in time. "But facing multiple gunmen, that's very dangerous." Bai Lang understood this; one‑on‑one he could ignore the gunner, but one‑on‑many… he wasn't sure how many he could handle, though ten or so would probably be too many.

So he should try to avoid slipping to that point; at least if he lets himself indulge in assassinations, there'd be nothing that could block his attacks—but Bai Lang isn't planning to challenge places that are saturated with surveillance.

However, these people never gave up on cheaper ways to control him, and Bai Lang indeed realized he might have done something wrong—once the first fixed‑match incident occurred, more kept coming, and it wasn't just fixed matches; they even needed him to act as a bodyguard—not just any bodyguard, but, in Bai Lang's view, a guard for thugs dealing in addictive drugs.

Honestly, Bai Lang found it boring; he now had some money, and he despised the sale of such drugs. "Sometimes I think I'm too easy‑going." When his agent once again asked him to do a similar job, Bai Lang said that, in Mandarin. The agent was a typical short Thai Black man, skinny, blinking at Bai Lang—he could understand a bit of Mandarin, probably wondering what the fighter was saying.

The man should have sensed the odd atmosphere, but before he could react, Bai Lang pressed his neck; the man collapsed onto the chair, dead faint. When Bai Lang walked out, no one paid him any special attention, so the fellow swaggered away.

Bai Lang's identity can't stand scrutiny, so he can't get a passport or leave the country—going to places like Singapore is definitely out, but he could try to smuggle into another country. "With my abilities, where can't I go?" Bai Lang thought, but before that, that criminal gambling syndicate seemed about to come after him—who let him learn a bit about the syndicate's illegal drug trade?

Finding Bai Lang isn't hard; his appearance is quite conspicuous—1.8 m tall is noticeable in Tai Guo, and he has a handsome male look; as a Chinese man he stands out even more—his bearing is different. Yet he isn't in tourist hotspots like Bangkok; in ordinary Thai rural towns, locating someone like him isn't difficult.

This time Bai Lang didn't deliberately hide his whereabouts; he stayed at a hotel—traveling between cities by coach, looking for smuggling opportunities. Now, sitting in his room, his ears twitched slightly, "Someone's coming, three people; if you can hear footsteps and breathing, you're a practitioner." A smile curled Bai Lang's lips as he prepared on one side of the door.

The opponents, of course, wouldn't rush in and fire, but the door was indeed kicked open with force. All three were professional fighters; the first charged forward bearing a special cowhide shield, showing they were prepared, trying to pass through the vestibule unharmed. Bai Lang naturally saw the other two holding knives; as the door was kicked open, he had already stepped back. The shield‑wielding guy who rushed forward received a full‑power long fist from Bai Lang right in front of him…