Chapter 699 - 677:
Facing the sneers and jibes of the audience, Ye Chen remained composed. He understood the prejudice foreigners had against him, as well as their disdain. With a faint smile, he then kicked off with his legs, flipping directly into the air and onto the ring. As he did so, a burst of gasps erupted from the spectator seats. Compared to Jones’s entrance, Ye Chen was clearly more relaxed and more stylish. He flipped onto the ring that was over a meter high, and with the addition of the guardrails, it totaled more than two meters, nearly three. He simply flipped up there with ease.
"Oh, God, this little Chinese dude seems to have some strength!" Everyone let out bursts of astonishment.
"Hmph, no matter what, he can’t possibly win. I believe Jones will definitely blow him away!" Those who had placed their bets on Jones began to shout. They didn’t want to see Jones die like that, no way! So many people had bet on Jones. If Jones lost, many people at the scene would go bankrupt; they were all in. If they lost, they’d have nothing left.
"That’s right, Jones is the man; he has never lost before!" People began to boost their own spirits.
Up on the ring, the referee stepped forward, explained the rules of the match, and then announced the start. Jones and Ye Chen locked eyes, staring at each other. Jones’s eyes emitted a cold gleam, as if he wanted to slaughter Ye Chen on the spot. But Ye Chen, still leisurely smoking a cigarette with one hand in his pocket, looked as undisturbed as an ancient well.
"Kid, you still have time to kneel and beg for mercy," Jones said with a trace of uncertainty. Ye Chen’s gaze and his composed aura made Jones feel a chilling fear. He was scared, yes, Jones’s heart had begun to fear. But to maintain his dignity as a strong man, he had to steady his mind; he had to appear even more composed. He knew that once he showed fear, once he panicked, he would have already lost.
"No, the one who should be begging is you!" Ye Chen suddenly raised his forefinger, shook it, and said very pretentiously, "From the entrance to here, there are a total of sixty-four steps. I’ll give you one minute to get lost, otherwise, you’ll have no chance to escape!"
"Is that so?" Jones snorted coldly. He began to doubt Ye Chen; he was convinced that Ye Chen was just pretending to be calm and composed. He couldn’t believe that there was someone in the entire United States who could beat him.
But in his heart, Jones could never forget what his coach once told him—never try to fight a Chinese master, as China was a land of wonders with their kung fu full of unpredictable changes, and masters as numerous as the clouds.
So, inside, Jones was somewhat fearful. Gritting his teeth, he said coldly, "Then bring it on!"
Ye Chen hooked up a smile, still with the cigarette in his mouth. He casually plucked the cigarette butt, flicked his middle finger, and sent it flying viciously at Jones. Jones was caught off guard, and the cigarette butt hit him hard in the eye, causing him to howl in pain.
"Oh, damn, what’s happening to Jones?" A tumult arose among the spectators; the little Chinese guy had actually managed to repel Jones with just a cigarette butt. Everyone found it too bizarre. Was it because Jones was too careless, or because the little Chinese guy was too awesome?