Chapter 953: Saving Face

He Yuzhu gave a faint smile and retreated to his corner of the boxing ring.

The trainer immediately stepped forward to knead his shoulders, the massage technique in his hands being very authentic.

On the other side, Tyson did not wait for the referee's signal at all, and on his own, quickly scrambled onto the boxing ring.

This match was not a formal professional event to begin with, just an exhibition match, so the referee couldn't be bothered to argue with him and let him do as he pleased.

But as soon as Tyson turned his head and saw He Yuzhu half-closing his eyes, looking comfortable as he let the trainer massage him, he flew into a rage again on the spot.

Profanities tumbled out of his mouth one after another, and those around him couldn't stop him at all.

Looking at He Yuzhu, he was too lazy to even lift his eyelids, closing his eyes to enjoy the massage in peace, not taking the other party's clamoring to heart at all.

When he had rested enough, He Yuzhu stood up and patted the trainer on the shoulder: "Good technique, I have plenty of strength in my whole body again now."

His gaze swept toward the area under the ring, happening to meet Jeffrey's bitter, regret-filled face.

At this moment, Jeffrey was regretting it so much his guts were turning green; the trap he had painstakingly laid had been crushed to pieces by He Yuzhu.

He saw clearly in his heart—in today's match, Tyson had absolutely no chance of winning.

Below the ring, Deputy Director Li was so anxious that his features were scrunched together, constantly winking and pursing his lips at He Yuzhu, the hint couldn't be clearer: Factory Director He, just stop while you're ahead! Don't you dare actually knock Tyson unconscious on the ring; these Americans won't be able to save face, and the subsequent trade negotiations will be very difficult to advance.

He Yuzhu knew it like the back of his hand, but when he looked up and saw Tyson's arrogant, nose-in-the-air appearance, the itch to fight rose in his heart again. Very well, he would simply accompany him through the entire round, but he must give him a real, solid warning.

Just as he was pondering, the referee's whistle suddenly sounded, and the match officially began.

The referee cut his palm through the middle, signaling the two to start the battle.

This time, He Yuzhu no longer just defended passively, stepping forward to land two heavy punches directly.

Tyson didn't react at all, and both punches landed solidly on his body.

The first punch smashed fiercely into his temple, Tyson's body tilted violently, and he nearly fell to his knees on the spot.

He stumbled back two steps, barely managing to stand steady.

The second punch that followed immediately hit his jaw, the corner of Tyson's mouth split instantly, and beads of blood dripped down his chin.

It had to be said that this man was indeed very tough; if it were an ordinary boxer, they would have fallen to the ground long ago after taking these two hits.

Not to mention that He Yuzhu hadn't even used his full strength just now.

Tyson's body was still swaying, and the referee immediately stepped forward to count. When he reached nine, Tyson braced himself against the ropes, shook his dizzy head, and raised his hand to signal that he could continue the match.

The two tangled together again, and this time Tyson was completely red-eyed with anxiety, like an out-of-control wild bull, charging at He Yuzhu with bloodshot eyes, swinging his left and right fists wildly, wishing he could tear the other party to shreds.

But He Yuzhu's figure was as flexible as a loach, dodging the offensive easily with left and right sways; Tyson swung wildly, but couldn't even touch a corner of his clothes, making him roar repeatedly, just like a wild dog that had its tail stepped on.

He Yuzhu spotted the opening Tyson left when throwing a punch and put his strength into a punch that landed squarely in his abdomen.

Tyson's face turned pale instantly, feeling as if his stomach was churning and his internal organs were all twisted together.

He couldn't straighten his waist, stumbled back several steps, his back hit the ropes heavily, and he hunched over, gasping for air.

Seeing this, the referee stepped forward again to start the count.

Tyson gasped for air, and his mind suddenly cleared: The Holyfield team was clearly using him as a pawn! In the end, it was Holyfield who designed the trap to trick him into being this sucker.

He saw clearly now that the person in front of him had unfathomable strength, and he had no chance of winning at all.

If that punch just now had landed on his head, he would probably have been carried off the ring by now.

Tyson had a fiery temper and a simple mind, but he was by no means a fool. Having reached this point, he knew very well that if he kept holding on, he was highly likely to leave with a serious injury, which really wasn't worth the loss.

When the two faced each other closely again, Tyson lowered his voice and leaned toward He Yuzhu to negotiate: "Mr. He, let's discuss something, let's call it a draw, and I'll give you a sum of money."

He Yuzhu raised his eyebrows slightly, thinking to himself: This guy finally got the point.

He also lowered his voice and responded: "What are the conditions?"

Tyson pretended to throw punches to maintain a confrontational stance while whispering his offer: "One hundred thousand US dollars, and we shake hands and make peace."

He Yuzhu curled his lip, his face full of disdain: "That's a bit too little."

Tyson gritted his teeth, the veins on his forehead bulging: "Three hundred thousand! This is really my bottom line, no more than that!"

He Yuzhu nodded slightly: "Fine, there isn't much time left anyway, so let's do as you say and end it in a draw."

Tyson's eyes rolled, and he leaned in to urge: "Then you have to let me land two punches to make it look real, otherwise the audience below will see the flaw at a glance."

He Yuzhu glanced at him coldly, his tone carrying a warning: "If you dare to use lethal force, my next punch will break three of your ribs."

Tyson shivered all over, nodding his head like a chicken pecking at rice: "Understood! Absolutely no problem!"

Next, a well-coordinated show was performed on the ring.

He Yuzhu feinted a punch straight at the other's face, and Tyson cooperatively ducked his head; immediately after, He Yuzhu deliberately exposed an opening, Tyson took the opportunity to smash a punch onto his shoulder, and He Yuzhu stumbled back two meters, pretending to be heavily hit.

Subsequently, He Yuzhu returned a punch that landed on Tyson's shoulder, deliberately holding back his strength, but Tyson still felt half his body go numb.

From then on, the two went back and forth, their fists flying, looking dangerous and intense, but in reality, every punch was restrained—all just flashy, deceptive moves.

The audience below, however, was completely boiling over; in their eyes, Tyson's strength was far superior to Holyfield's, and they all stood up, waving their fists and shouting: "Tyson! Knock him out!" "Victory! Victory!"

Deputy Director Li turned to look at Deputy Director Shi and Deputy Director Long beside him, his face full of confusion as he lowered his voice: "What's going on with Factory Director He? Why did he suddenly fall into a disadvantage and even take several punches?"

Deputy Director Long chuckled, looking as if he understood everything: "Does this even need thinking? In terms of real ability, even if Tyson and Holyfield joined forces, they might not be able to beat Factory Director He. In my opinion, they reached a deal privately."

Deputy Director Shi was half-believing: "It can't be, right? What kind of deal could they make?"

Deputy Director Long stroked his chin, his smile meaningful: "In my opinion, Tyson is paying for peace."

Deputy Director Li still had doubts: "After the match ends, we'll know once we ask Factory Director He."

The two on the ring continued to cooperate, going back and forth, their punching speed so fast it was dazzling; the cheers below rose wave after wave, and the atmosphere at the scene was pushed to its peak.

"Ding-a-ling—" The final bell rang, and the match ended.

The referee stepped onto the ring, grabbed a wrist of each person, and raised both their arms high at the same time.

The host was so excited his voice cracked: "This match is a draw! Worthy of being a world-class boxing champion, the strength is indeed well-deserved! Let us cheer for Tyson together..."

If strictly following the rules of a formal match, this result wouldn't hold up at all, but no one would be pedantic—this was an exhibition match meant to build atmosphere, and there were formal confrontations waiting to start later.

The two turned around and bowed to the audience below.

Just as He Yuzhu was about to step off the ring, Tyson rushed up first, hugged him, patted his back lightly, and said with a smile: "Brother, I've truly learned my lesson today; your fists are really not to be trifled with. I'll have someone send the check to you later."