novelslam Chapter 25 Going to the Meeting Alone?
Chapter 25 Going to the Meeting Alone?
Fatty Wang, with dark circles under his eyes that looked like they were about to fall to his chin, stared intently at the two words on his phone screen: "Safety".
Those two words were like a life-saving pill, finally putting his heart, which had been hanging in suspense all night, back down. He slumped onto the sofa, feeling like all his bones were going to give way, and all he wanted to do was sleep and die.
But he dared not sleep.
After Ma Cong hung up the phone last night, he was almost driven mad. He knew Ma Cong's temper all too well; once he made up his mind, no one could stop him. He also knew all too well what kind of person Zhao Sihai was—ruthless and vicious, with countless lives on his hands.
He was really afraid that Ma Cong might act impulsively and go to Zhao Sihai to risk his life.
Is he going to risk his life? He's going to his death!
He contacted everyone he knew in the underworld, but as soon as they heard it was Zhao Sihai, they shook their heads vigorously and hung up the phone quickly. Call the police? The police said he had no evidence; the man hadn't even disappeared, so how could they open a case?
That night, Fatty Wang experienced true despair. For the first time, he realized that his connections and money were utterly worthless in the face of true darkness.
Now everything is alright, Master Ma is safe.
Wang Pangzi breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to call Ma Cong to ask what was going on, his phone started vibrating incessantly, as if it had gone crazy.
On the screen, one unfamiliar number after another popped up, some from Beijing, some from Shanghai, and even a few from overseas, each with a long area code.
"Hey? Who is it?" Fatty Wang answered weakly.
"Hello! Are you Mr. Wang, Mr. Ma Cong's agent? I am the Marketing Director for UFC Asia, my name is..."
Fatty Wang jumped up from the sofa in a flash!
UFC! The most awesome fighting organization in the world!
"Huh? Ah! Yes! It's me! It's me!" Fatty Wang's voice trembled with excitement.
"Mr. Wang, we watched Mr. Ma's match at WLF last night, as well as all the videos circulating online! We unanimously agree that Mr. Ma is a once-in-a-century fighting genius! We would like to invite him to join the UFC, and we are willing to offer him an unprecedented eight-figure super contract!"
"Eight...eight digits?" Fatty Wang felt his heart was about to jump out of his throat. "Is it...is it RMB?"
The person on the other end of the phone laughed: "Of course it's in US dollars! And this is just the base signing fee, not including PPV revenue sharing and bonuses! If Mr. Ma is willing, we can arrange for him to challenge for the cruiserweight championship immediately!"
US dollars! Eight figures!
Fatty Wang felt like he was suffocating. He pinched his thigh, and the sharp pain told him that he wasn't dreaming.
We've struck it rich! We've struck it rich! This time we're really going to get rich!
He hung up the phone, his hands trembling. Before he could even catch his breath, another call came in.
"Hello Mr. Wang, this is the Chairman's Office of ONE Championship..."
"Mr. Wang, I'm from K-1..."
"Mr. Wang..."
Wang Pangzi spent the entire morning answering phone calls. His worldview was being challenged time and time again. He felt like he wasn't a broker, but a king sitting on a mountain of gold, with businessmen from all over the world waving checks and begging to send him money.
Only then did he belatedly open foreign social media and take a look.
crazy.
The entire world of combat sports has gone crazy.
Ma Cong's "divine finger" video, accompanied by various exaggerated titles, went viral on YouTube and Twitter.
"Chinese Kung Fu! A single finger pierces through the ring! This isn't special effects!"
"UFC champions, do you dare accept the challenge from this 'god'?"
The comments section below exploded with discussion.
"Oh my God! Is this real? Are his fingers made of diamonds?"
"I've practiced karate for thirty years, and I can't even break a wooden board, yet he poked a hole through the floor with his finger? That's magic!"
"Dana White! What are you doing? Sign him now! I want to see him beat everyone to a pulp!"
"I suggest the FBI investigate him immediately; he might be an alien disguised as a human!"
Wang Pangzi trembled with excitement as he read the comments. He could almost see Ma Cong standing at the top of the world, a gold belt around his waist, with countless US dollars falling towards him like snowflakes.
He had to tell Master Ma this good news immediately!
He quickly dialed Ma Cong's number.
"Beep...beep..."
The phone rang for a long time before it was answered.
"Fatty." Ma Cong's voice was calm, without a trace of excitement.
"Master Ma! My dear master! Where are you? Do you know that you're famous now! Famous all over the world! UFC! ONE Championship! They're going crazy for you! The prices they're offering are beyond your wildest imagination..." Fatty Wang was so excited that he couldn't even speak coherently.
"Fatty, book me a plane ticket to Beijing," Ma Cong interrupted him.
"Huh?" Wang Pangzi's excitement was instantly dampened, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him. "Go...go to the capital for what?"
"No, no need," Ma Cong changed his mind again, "Someone will come to pick me up."
"Pick you up? Who is it?" Fatty Wang was completely confused. "Master Ma, this is a crucial time! We need to strike while the iron is hot and sign the contract! It's millions, no, tens of millions of US dollars!"
"I'm going to meet a few people," Ma Cong said calmly.
"Meet people? What kind of people are more important than making money?" Wang Pangzi blurted out.
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.
"People who are more important than making money."
After saying that, Ma Cong added, "Don't reply to those contracts yet. Wait for my message."
"No, Master Ma..."
Fatty Wang wanted to persuade him further, but the phone was already busy.
He stood in the middle of the living room, holding his phone, his face filled with confusion and bewilderment.
Who exactly is this person? What is this matter? Could something be more important than a contract worth tens of millions of US dollars?
……
Ma Cong hung up the phone and looked up at the sky.
A sleek Gulfstream private jet was quietly parked on the airport's private tarmac. A middle-aged man in a Zhongshan suit, with a serious expression, stood at the foot of the steps, waiting patiently for him.
There was no red carpet, no welcoming procession, and not even a few extra pleasantries.
But Ma Cong could sense the other person's calm, reserved, yet undeniable aura. He had only ever seen this kind of aura emanating from people who were truly in high positions.
"Mr. Ma Cong, you must be tired from your journey. Please." The middle-aged man gestured for him to proceed.
Ma Cong nodded and stepped onto the gangway.
The interior of the plane was decorated in a low-key yet luxurious style. After he sat down, a well-dressed and elegant flight attendant brought him a cup of hot tea and then quietly stepped aside without disturbing him.
The plane took off smoothly and soon soared into the sky.
Looking out the porthole at the city below, which was getting smaller and smaller, Ma Gong felt a sense of peace.
He knew that when he decided to answer that call, his life had embarked on a completely different path from the past.
This path may not be as dazzling as the U-FC gold belt, nor as lucrative as a multi-million dollar contract.
But this road leads to the place he truly wants to go.
To restore the reputation of Chinese martial arts.
These five words carry more weight than any wealth in the world.
He closed his eyes and began to regulate his breathing.
Last night's carnage had left him on edge. Although his mind was clear and his strength was becoming increasingly pure, it was still tainted with a trace of blood.
He needed to calm down and completely subside this murderous aura, transforming it into a part of his own power.
Killing techniques are not for indiscriminately killing innocent people.
Its existence is for stopping war. It is for protection.
When the plane landed at a military airport in the western suburbs of Beijing that was not open to the public, Ma Cong slowly opened his eyes.
The bloodshot in his eyes had completely faded, leaving only a calm as deep as an ancient well.
An hour later.
A Hongqi sedan with a special license plate, carrying Ma Cong, drove into a quiet alley.
The car stopped in front of an inconspicuous vermilion gate deep in the alley.
There were no plaques hanging at the entrance, only two stone lions, squatting there quietly, as if they had witnessed hundreds of years of wind and rain.
The man in the Zhongshan suit opened the car door for him.
"Mr. Ma, Mr. Qin is already waiting for you inside."
Ma Cong got out of the car and looked up at the quaint courtyard house.
He could sense several auras in the courtyard that were similar to his, yet completely different.
That was the aura of someone of the same kind.
It has the aura of someone who has mastered traditional Chinese martial arts.
He straightened his clothes and stepped inside.