Chapter 35: Turning Waste into Treasure

Song Ren listened quietly as Chen Sheng finished speaking, a sense of clarity dawning on him.

As Chen had noted, death-row inmates usually carried a specific label: the permanent deprivation of political rights. Because of this, while they might command fear among most prisoners within the prison walls, outside—especially in places where the light of the law could not reach—they stood at the very bottom of the social hierarchy. After all, if they died, it was as if they were nothing more than insects.

Song Ren was not a death-row inmate himself, but he had entered by taking the place of one. Only the warden and a handful of others knew this.

Chen Sheng raised his hand to glance at his quartz watch and arched an eyebrow. "Are you coming with me to the villa to meet the big boss who chose to sponsor you, or would you rather wait for the other two?"

"Let's wait a bit," Song Ren replied.

"That might take a while," Chen Sheng noted. "Not everyone can walk out of these wild hills as cleanly and efficiently as you did." He paused, then added, "By the way, I haven't asked—your combat skills are so sharp, did you train at a martial arts school?"

Song Ren lied without hesitation. "You could say that. I spent a few years at a school, and later traveled north and south to visit some old masters. I suppose you could say I’ve achieved something."

Chen Sheng nodded. "No wonder. Three pit bulls—even if it were me, relying only on a karambit, I’d likely be dead or crippled. I still can't imagine how you managed it, but your skills must be extraordinary. If there's an opportunity, we should spar."

Song Ren nodded in agreement.

Chen Sheng pulled a cigarette case from his pocket, lit one for himself, and offered one to Song Ren.

"I quit a while ago," Song Ren said, shaking his head and tapping his temple. "I need to keep my mind in peak condition."

Chen Sheng gave a thumb-up, exhaling a cloud of smoke before speaking again. "Brother, would you mind telling me how you ended up inside?"

Song Ren offered only a polite smile and did not answer. Seeing this, Chen Sheng said nothing further and ceased his attempts at conversation.

After waiting for another half-hour, until the cigarette butts on the ground had piled up, Du Youbang finally stumbled out of the wild hills. His prison uniform was torn in several places, and faint bloodstains were visible on his skin. He had no bite wounds, but his hands were covered in blood; the karambit had been reclaimed by the guards at the gate upon his exit.

As soon as he stepped out, he saw Song Ren and Chen Sheng waiting nearby. A flash of surprise crossed Du Youbang's eyes as he scrutinized Song Ren, leading him to curse silently to himself: *Damn, not a single scratch?!*

Those were three pit bulls, not some adorable pets. These were full-grown, ferocious dogs; even two had left him in a sorry state. Yet, this guy’s uniform didn't even have a tear. Aside from a few blood spatters, he looked completely unscathed. Looking at the pile of cigarette butts at the driver's feet, Du Youbang felt a heavy weight in his chest. *How did this guy do it?*

Chen Sheng stood up at the right moment to greet Du Youbang. Du Youbang was equally surprised by Chen’s identity. "You're a 'Double-Flower Red Pole' of the Wo Shing?"

"I only just got promoted last year," Chen Sheng replied.

Du Youbang realized then why he looked so unfamiliar; he had already been in prison when Chen was promoted. After exchanging a few brief words, Du Youbang looked back at the wild hills. "How much longer are we waiting here?"

Before Chen could answer, Song Ren stood up suddenly. "Here he comes."

On the hill, a limping figure stumbled down. Not until he passed the security gate could they make out Lu Zhengyang’s condition in the moonlight. He looked miserable. His body was covered in claw marks, and his uniform hung in tatters. His calf was soaked in blood, the flesh slightly gaping, crudely bandaged with strips of fabric. He looked far more battered than Du Youbang.

This result seemed mismatched with his seemingly powerful physique. Upon emerging, Lu Zhengyang’s eyes first swept over his companions, and his expression turned awkward. Du Youbang only had a few scratches, and Song Ren was... well, that was absurd.

Lu Zhengyang limped over and let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. "I didn't expect to be the weakest among us. Looking like this, I’ve really disgraced Stanley Prison..."

Chen Sheng smiled. "You’ve done well. Those dogs were selected and specially trained. The fact that you can still joke means your tendons and bones are fine. A few IV drips and some rest, and you'll be fine. Getting this 'admission ticket' proves your worth; don't doubt yourself."

Lu Zhengyang remained silent. Without comparison, he might have felt proud, but looking at the other two—one with only a few scratches, the other... forget it, there was no comparison. He felt a deep sense of frustration. Even though he had witnessed Song Ren’s skills before—specifically the vivid memory of him beating a man to death—it was hard to reconcile. But those were three pit bulls on that hill! And yet, Song Ren stood before him completely unharmed, and had likely been the first one out!

"How about it?" Chen Sheng asked. "Can you still walk? Shall we go meet the big financiers? They will be your patrons. Only with them backing you can you find your footing in the top-tier fighting circuit."

Lu Zhengyang gritted his teeth and nodded. "Let's go."

The group trekked along the path for a long while, until Lu Zhengyang’s face grew increasingly pale, before they finally reached the main entrance of the villa. At that moment, the gates opened from within. A black sedan with a small golden figurine on its hood sped out, leaving them in a cloud of dust. As it brushed past them, through a crack in the rear window, a pair of sinister eyes swept over Song Ren.

Song Ren noticed and turned to Chen Sheng. "Was that... Mr. Guo, the one I offended?"

Chen Sheng nodded. "Yes, that is indeed his car."

Song Ren said nothing more, merely memorizing the license plate. The Rolls-Royce drove away, followed closely by a black BMW. As it passed their group, the car slowed down and lowered its window, revealing the brothers Zheng Qizhi and Zheng Qixiong in the front seats.

Zheng Qizhi looked Song Ren up and down, frowning. "Looks like you have good luck."

Zheng Qixiong, gripping the steering wheel, said calmly, "Don't die in the ring. You have to pay a price for offending Mr. Guo. You look a bit too intact right now."

Song Ren raised an eyebrow at the arrogant pair and suddenly smiled. "If you really don't like the look of me, why not meet me in the ring? Since Mr. Guo is short one contestant, I can give his spot to you—think of it as putting waste to good use."

The expressions of the Zheng brothers shifted instantly. They glared at Song Ren, and finally, through gritted teeth, spat out a final threat:

"Just wait for us. We'll see you in the ring and beat you to death!"