Section 43: Nine-Ring Knuckle Duster

The cradle of comfort does not erode a hero's edge; ordinary, mundane life does. Sima always maintained a keen sense of crisis. Lu Youyou was merely a distraction to pass the time amidst his grueling training. He knew what he wanted, and he knew how cruel the future would be. Everything before his eyes was nothing more than a fleeting illusion in a mirror or the moon reflected in the water; darkness would eventually engulf the earth, order would collapse, and living creatures would be plunged into misery. Therefore, he eagerly sought out Coach Tu to fill in the crucial missing piece from his past life.

Tu Yifeng spent every Friday night gathering with friends, drinking until the early hours of the morning, slept through the entirety of Saturday, and only had time to give Sima private lessons on Sunday. From their second session onward, he consciously guided Sima into "actual combat"—not the refereed, round-based fights on a boxing ring, but "real combat" in open spaces, semi-open areas, sheltered zones, streets, alleys, shopping malls, vegetable markets, one-on-one, one-on-two, one-on-three, and one-against-many. He taught him how to avoid getting surrounded, how to utilize terrain and obstacles, how to defeat enemies one by one, and in a word, how to push one's advantages to the absolute limit.

To do a good job, one must first sharpen one's tools. Sima considered getting a pair of brass knuckles to keep on hand. In those days, Taobao had not yet been launched, and tools and materials were difficult to acquire. Following Tu Yifeng's instructions, he drew a rough sketch and shamelessly approached Xue Dong, asking if he knew any veteran craftsmen skilled in metalworking who could forge a small defensive gadget for him. Xue Dong was curious and asked what he wanted to make. Sima showed him the sketch, and Bian Yaoshun leaned in for a glance, immediately guessing the truth, "Oh, so you want to make brass knuckles!"

Since he had nothing better to do, Bian Yaoshun volunteered for the job, patting his chest and promising to satisfy him completely. He had a hardware workshop at home, well-equipped despite its small size: lathes, milling machines, stamping presses, forges, casting equipment, welding torches, planers, and grinders—everything was available. While they couldn't build big machinery, forging a knife was a piece of cake. As for something with a simple structure and low precision like brass knuckles, it would be child's play! Sima did not refuse his kindness; he sat down and explained the original design intent: sturdy, durable, detachable, and looking as little like brass knuckles in appearance as possible. The moment Bian Yaoshun heard this, he understood. This was meant to deceive the public and keep things under wraps—only challenges were interesting. He took the sketch, turned it over and over, pondered it for a long time, and gradually formed an idea in his mind. Unable to suppress his urge to start working, he sprang up and bolted out the door.

Xue Dong offered a few words of explanation to Sima, "He's just that impulsive, charging ahead without looking back. Let's see what he can tinker with; if it's unusable, we'll think of another way... What is it? Did 'White Dove' assign you fieldwork? Is it very tricky?"

Sima smiled and said, "I've just been practicing boxing lately, and hitting the punching bag hurts my fingers. I'm getting a pair of brass knuckles for protection. Who knows, they might come in handy in the future."

Xue Dong looked thoughtful and said, "You should indeed prepare a bit. In this day and age, the world isn't very peaceful. I heard the fieldwork team ran into some tough nuts and had to put in a lot of effort to take them down..."

Sima probed cautiously, "Were there any 'Grass-Ghost People' committing atrocities?"

Xue Dong replied, "Indeed. Some operate so covertly that their deeds aren't apparent for a while, while others are simply too arrogant, harming both others and themselves, leaving us no choice but to eliminate them."

Sima's mood turned somewhat heavy. With the Second Division guarding Beizhi City like a mighty deity, times were peaceful and people lived and worked in peace, but other places were hard to predict. In his memories, the period of gu-worm outbreaks had not yet arrived, but certain omens were already showing. Fortunately, in this lifetime, he had started early and prepared thoroughly. Relying on the towering tree of the Second Division, once he weathered the initial period of chaos, he would have the strength to protect himself.

Bian Yaoshun was remarkably swift and nimble. A day later, he had forged the brass knuckles. The material used was scrap steel reinforcement bars. At first glance, they looked like the "Nine-Linked Rings"—rustic, clumsy, and awkward. When taken apart, they consisted of nine interlocking loops and two iron hoops that could be assembled into a pair of brass knuckles, secured with self-locking plastic cable ties and wrapped with anti-slip cloth strips. The size was just right, and the handfeel was quite good. Sima showered him with endless compliments, and Bian Yaoshun was immensely proud of himself. Making them look like the "Nine-Linked Rings" was his stroke of genius; for now, it was only a "resemblance in form," but after pondering it for a few more days, he would see if he could make them truly disassemblable just like the actual "Nine-Linked Rings."

Sima brought the "Nine-Ring Brass Knuckles" for Tu Yifeng to inspect. Tu Yifeng clicked his tongue in wonder at his ingenuity and asked Sima to put them on and try them out. Indeed, the destructive power was astonishing—a standard red brick was smashed to powder with a single punch. A professionally trained "boxer" with abundant physical stamina, agile footwork, high resistance to impact, and equipped with brass knuckles was an utterly terrifying existence. "Fists fear the young and vigorous," and Tu Yifeng believed that given Sima's physical fitness, barring any accidents, he could take on twenty ordinary people in one go.

However, Sima's opponents would not be limited to ordinary people. In their final two private sessions, Tu Yifeng introduced Sima to Muay Thai and Sanda. He suggested that Sima practice the roundhouse kicks of Muay Thai and the takedowns of Sanda, both of which were extremely practical skills where a single mastery could conquer all. He also taught Sima joint-lock techniques as well as dirty tricks like eye-gouging, throat-cutting, throat-thrusting, and groin-striking—even if he didn't use them, he needed to be on guard against them.

The private lessons totaled six sessions. Tu Yifeng had shaken out every last bit of hidden knowledge he possessed, leaving nothing more to teach. Sima did not cut off contact, though; every Sunday after leaving Lu Youyou's home, he would still head to the Pingxi Boxing Gym for a workout, finding a private room to ponder things on his own. On one occasion, Tu Yifeng dropped by and happened to see him pummeling the heavy bag, dripping with sweat, his strikes powerful and heavy—executing a sweeping roundhouse kick, followed by an elbow strike, and then a driving knee strike. The heavy sandbag swung wildly back and forth, bearing the brunt of his overwhelming force. Tu Yifeng felt a chill run down his spine and a creepiness in his heart. In his youth, he had been known as "Madman Tu," kicking his way through one boxing gym after another, yet even at his peak, he had never possessed such stamina and strength. Now that he was older, he fell far short of that level.

After Sima left, Tu Yifeng called Jiliang in, pointed out the marks on the sandbag, and told him which spot came from boxing, which from a roundhouse kick, which from an elbow strike, and which from a knee strike. Jiliang drew a sharp breath; this wasn't practicing boxing, this was bloody murder! Tu Yifeng spoke to his disciple with deep meaning, "Impressive, right? You couldn't beat him, and there are probably very few people in the entire Beizhi City who could withstand that!" Jiliang nodded repeatedly, finally convinced. He understood his teacher's intent: a fiend like Sima must never be offended; he had to be treated with utmost care and respect, for one never knew when he might turn out to be a tremendous help.

"Little Spoon" knew nothing about these intricate twists and turns. Having spent over a month lying in a hospital bed, he could barely walk a few steps before panting, as frail as a blade of grass; talking about registering as a professional boxer was entirely out of the question. He harbored a burning hatred for Sima and secretly scraped together every penny he had, hiring someone to teach him a lesson and vent this suffocating rage no matter what. Snakes have their paths, and turtles have their tracks—through at most six intermediaries, you can connect with any stranger in the world. "Little Spoon" had decent luck; after various twists and turns, he managed to contact a formidable underground fighter who happened to be short on cash and accepted his commission, rushing in from another city.

However, "Little Spoon" still possessed a sense of proportion and refrained from causing trouble at Jiliang's boxing gym. Having found out that Sima worked at the Anti-Doping Center and kept a strict nine-to-five routine, he decided to wait and ambush him after work, intending to at least break one of his legs and keep him bedridden for a full three months.