Chapter 957: Life-and-Death Match

The referee's blood sprayed all over Tyson's face; it was warm and viscous, and a heavy, fishy stench drilled straight into his nasal cavity.

Before he could even raise his hand to wipe it away, a hair-raising, creaking sound suddenly erupted above his head—a giant ceiling panel came crashing down, weighing at least two hundred kilograms.

Tyson's reaction speed was astonishingly fast; he subconsciously thrust his arms upward, but the ceiling panel was far too heavy to be supported by his arms alone. He slid his feet sharply, his figure dodging to the side with the swiftness of a leopard.

In the end, he was still half a step too slow; the sharp edges of the wooden board scraped fiercely against his forehead and shoulder, instantly tearing a bloody gash into half his cheek. Beads of blood dripped continuously down his jaw, and his shoulder was also struck and fractured.

Excruciating pain swept through his entire body, making his vision go black. Losing his balance, he fell heavily against the edge of the iron cage.

The situation on He Yuzhu's side was equally dire.

The falling ceiling panel happened to be blocked by the steel frame at the top of the iron cage, so it did not smash directly onto his head. However, decades of accumulated dust in the ceiling's interlayer were shaken loose, filling the air. The entire hall was instantly shrouded in a fog-like cloud of dust, making it impossible to even open his eyes.

He Yuzhu quickly closed his eyes, but he was still a split second too late; dust had gotten into his eyeballs.

The injured people trapped beneath the spectator stands were the most miserable. Having already suffered broken limbs and severe wounds, they were then struck a second time by the ceiling. Their shrill, piercing screams rose one after another, making one's scalp tingle and heart tighten.

He Yuzhu held onto the iron cage railing and slowly opened his eyes, just in time to see Tyson with half his body soaked in a pool of blood; one could feel the bone-chilling pain just by looking at him.

Tyson also managed to open his eyes. The moment his gaze shifted, it tugged at his wounds, causing him to grimace in pain. He opened his mouth and began to curse in a towering rage: "Bastards! Who on earth built this crappy venue? It's clear they wanted my life!"

Through the iron cage, He Yuzhu hurriedly called out: "Mr. Tyson, how are your injuries?"

Tyson turned his head and glared at him fiercely, his temper not diminished in the slightest: "How the hell do you think? My shoulder bone is cracked, all my matches for the second half of the year are ruined—you tell me how I am!"

He Yuzhu had no mind to bicker with him. He looked up at the roof, thinking that if the building collapsed too, today would be even more lively.

He shouted deliberately: "Tyson, evacuate quickly! This building won't hold for long, get out!"

Tyson gritted his teeth and pushed himself up to stand, but he stopped abruptly after taking only one step—his agent, Lister, was pinned firmly underneath a heavy ceiling panel.

Tyson didn't say a word and charged straight over, hooking his hands around the edge of the wooden board and heaving with all his might. But there was a giant chandelier weighing several hundred kilograms pressing down on top of the ceiling panel, locked tight by layers of iron chains. The veins on his neck bulged and his entire face turned bright red, yet the wooden board didn't budge an inch.

Lister was covered in cold sweat from the pain and screamed for help from under the ceiling: "Tyson! Save me!"

He Yuzhu, inside the cage, saw everything clearly and immediately shouted to him: "Tyson, throw me the iron gate key from the referee, and I'll come out to help you save Lister!"

Tyson was already full of agitation and had intended to snap at him, but then he thought that He Yuzhu was incredibly strong; having an extra helper might actually get the man out.

Enduring the excruciating pain in his shoulder, he fumbled for a long time on the referee—who had an iron rod stuck in his head—and finally fished out a large copper key. He raised his hand and threw it straight over: "Open the door and get out yourself! I can't get away from here!"

He Yuzhu caught the key steadily, rushed to the iron cage gate, and inserted the key into the lock. With a "click," the iron gate sprang open.

He stepped out of the iron cage, his mind racing: taking advantage of the dust-filled air and murky visibility where no one was paying attention, he quietly placed the iron rods and screws he had previously stored in his space back into various parts of the ruins.

He knew very well that this collapse was far too suspicious. Everyone present was either wealthy or powerful; the authorities would surely investigate thoroughly afterward, and he could not leave behind a single shred of evidence that might bring trouble upon himself.

After finishing everything, he walked quickly to Tyson's side, bent down to hook the edge of the ceiling board, and said in a low voice: "I'll count to three, and we'll both exert force at the same time to lift this cover!"

Tyson nodded heavily, his teeth grinding with a creaking sound.

"One—two—three! Lift!" He Yuzhu roared.

The two exerted all their strength simultaneously, their muscles taut like cast iron. This giant wooden board, weighing over a thousand kilograms, was actually heaved up, opening a narrow gap.

Seeing the escape gap, Lister ignored the agonizing pain in his leg and gritted his teeth, crawling desperately outward. His mangled leg dragged a glaring trail of blood across the floor.

Tyson immediately let go and leaned down, pulling him out of danger in one motion. He bent over, hoisted the man onto his back, and bolted toward the exit.

He Yuzhu followed closely behind, his footsteps light and swift.

Just then, a group of bodyguards rushed into the hall, intending to begin rescue efforts.

He Yuzhu did not stop his pace. With a thought, he secretly pulled away a key purlin from the roof. The entire wooden structure above the hall snapped in response, crashing down with a clatter and burying the group of bodyguards under the rubble.

By the time Tyson, carrying Lister, and He Yuzhu rushed out of the building's entrance, all three were physically exhausted and collapsed on the ground outside, gasping for air. Looking back, the hall had completely collapsed; the people inside were in for a rough time.

Tyson caught his breath, turned to look at He Yuzhu, and spoke in a solemn tone: "Mr. He, thank you for stepping in to save Lister. If you had been a moment later, it would have been unthinkable."

He Yuzhu waved his hand: "No need for thanks. If you hadn't thrown me the key, I would still be trapped in the iron cage right now. We saved each other."

Lister sat slumped on the ground, pressing hard against his injured leg, and looked at He Yuzhu with a face full of guilt: "I am truly sorry, Mr. He... I had foreseen that such a disaster might happen; I shouldn't have helped you take on this match no matter what. I really am sorry."

He Yuzhu's eyes shifted, and he took the opportunity to change the subject: "In my opinion, we clearly encountered a terrorist attack."

Tyson was already brimming with rage; hearing this, he flew into a fury, his eyes wide and teeth bared as he growled: "If I find out who is behind this, I will definitely twist off their head!"

He Yuzhu didn't respond. He crouched down to examine Lister's leg injury, gently felt the dislocated bone, and looked up: "Mr. Lister, if you trust me, I can set the dislocated bone for you right now."

Tyson immediately shook his head and refused, his attitude very firm: "No, it must be handled by a professional doctor."

He Yuzhu smiled indifferently and did not insist further.

He had intended to help out of kindness, but in a foreign land, a kind heart did not necessarily guarantee peace. Since the other party had reservations, he naturally did not want to offer any more explanations.

In the distance, the sirens of ambulances and police cars approached from afar, their red and blue flashing lights piercing the heavy night.

He Yuzhu stood up and looked at Tyson: "I'll be going first; we'll meet again another day."

Lister was gasping from the pain but still managed to speak: "Mr. He... the prize money for your fight, I'm afraid it will be very difficult to collect..."

He Yuzhu waved his hand, not caring in the least: "Mr. Lister, you know the rules here better than I do; please help me urge them. I was injured today as well, so I can't have risked my life for nothing. If they insist on refusing to pay, I don't mind taking legal action to demand it."

Hearing this, Tyson suddenly grinned, revealing a set of white teeth: "I'll help you collect your payment!"

He Yuzhu said nothing more, turned, and walked into the night.

Upon returning to the hotel, the first thing he did was find Director Li and recount the entire incident from that night exactly as it happened.

Director Li remained silent for a long time after listening, his brows tightly knitted; he was clearly weighing the delegation's subsequent response plan.

He Yuzhu offered words of comfort: "Lao Li, there is actually no need for excessive anxiety. This kind of underground fighting is inherently illicit; none of the parties involved will take the initiative to make the scandal public. After all, in a place that touts freedom and democracy every day, if a scandal about using human lives for entertainment breaks out, no one will be able to walk away with their reputation intact."

Lao Li pondered for a moment and warned in a low voice: "On the surface, they won't dare to move against you openly, but you must be wary of them using underhanded tactics in the shadows."

A confident smile tugged at the corners of He Yuzhu's lips: "You can rest assured about that; I'm not afraid. If they go too far, then we'll go down together. I'll bring out the match contract and see who loses face and suffers the greater loss."