tallest building

Chapter 135 Retribution

Cuju (ancient Chinese football) has always been divided into civil and military categories.

In Wuju (ancient Chinese football), underhanded tactics are often used.

Having been in the business for so many years, Song Xiang naturally knew the ins and outs of it all.

Without exaggeration, he can break a person's spine with a single kick, or he can shoot a ball and have it hit a person, causing them to vomit blood or faint.

A child like Gong Chang'an could have his spleen ruptured with just one kick of a ball.

At the time, I couldn't see anything wrong, but I did feel some pain.

But after three to five days, the person becomes useless.

It's like a plant whose roots have been damaged; it won't die immediately, but it will slowly wither away.

Song Xiang had made up his mind to take Gong Chang'an's life on this football field.

Both sides took to the field and got into position. A whistle blew, and the match began.

Gong Chang'an and several other children rode on the shoulders of the Kunlun slaves, directing them to advance and retreat, and dodge left and right.

The two sides fought fiercely, making for a truly exciting contest.

Fifteen minutes later, Song Xiang scored the first goal, but less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Gong Chang'an and his teammates scored a goal as well.

Song Xiang then gave a wink to his men, and in the ensuing possession of the ball, they deliberately targeted the Kunlun slave's calves and ribs.

He wanted to cripple these people so that he could win.

The Kunlun slaves had never seen such underhanded tricks before, and were initially somewhat flustered.

"Stay calm, don't panic!" Gong Chang'an said. "Whoever has the ball, the others should help block them and let them score!"

Song Xiang was also eager to get the ball back; he didn't want to score, he just wanted to use the ball to attack Gong Chang'an.

Gong Chang'an naturally saw through his thoughts, so he lowered himself to lie on the Kunlun slave's body, making it impossible for him to find an opportunity for the time being.

"Chang'an, these people are too ruthless!" Xu Mang shouted at Gong Chang'an, "My Kunlun slave's leg is crippled."

Gong Chang'an moved closer to him and said, "Since that's the case, let's not rush to play football. Let's play against a few people first."

"See that one wearing the red headscarf?" Xu Mang asked, panting heavily. "He's the most ruthless."

"Then let's cripple him first," Gong Chang'an smiled. "That should serve as a warning to others."

That person was Song Xiang.

During this time, Gong Chang'an's Kunlun slave scored another goal.

Song Xiang and his group became even more anxious, all regarding Gong Chang'an as a thorn in their side.

“Listen to me, the three of us will rush over together in a bit.” Song Xiang said to the other two, “I’ll pretend to fall and scoop over to trip that Kunlun slave, and you two go up and break his calves.”

Falling and bumping into things are inevitable on the Cuju field, and injuries are common.

As long as it's not too blatant, others won't be able to say anything.

The ball was then snatched by Gong Chang'an's Kunlun slave, who ran forward with the ball, and everyone naturally chased after them.

Song Xiang rushed over suddenly, slipped and fell to the side, intending to trip Kunlun slave, take the ball, and then pretend to accidentally kick Gong Chang'an.

Anyway, once Kunlun Slave falls, Gong Chang'an will also fall off his back.

With the help of others, the scene will definitely be chaotic. Who will be able to take care of anyone else then?

Gong Chang'an saw through Song Xiang's intention. Just as he was about to kick Kunlun Nu's leg, he whispered in Kunlun Nu's ear, "Kneel down!" Kunlun Nu didn't know what he meant, but he was used to obeying his orders, so he immediately knelt down.

To everyone else, it appeared that Song Xiang had knocked down the Kunlun slave, and no one could tell that the Kunlun slave had knelt down on his own.

The body, weighing over 300 pounds, suddenly pressed down on Song Xiang's legs, the sound of bones cracking clear enough to send chills down one's spine.

Song Xiang didn't feel any pain at first; he just looked at Gong Chang'an, who was still steadily riding on the shoulders of the Kunlun slave, with surprise.

Gong Chang'an smiled at him, like a smug little fox.

"Ouch..." The pain surged like a tidal wave, and Song Xiang screamed in agony.

His legs are broken.

Amidst his screams, Gong Chang'an murmured softly, "You want to take my life? But you don't know who the cicada is and who the oriole is. You caused my mother to fall seriously ill, and I will definitely avenge this!"

"Guards! Take Song Xiang away and fetch a doctor." King Zhao waved his hand. "Bring one more up, and let the competition continue. Don't spoil everyone's fun!"

Song Xiang was carried off the field like a dead dog, but the competition continued.

Gong Chang'an was seeking revenge, so he deliberately let the Zhao Prince's team win.

This is actually quite reasonable. If they really defeated the King of Zhao, wouldn't that make the king lose face?

Although they lost, they still showed King Zhao their strength, so it wasn't a loss of face for them.

"Excellent, excellent. It has been a long time since I have seen such a wonderful competition," King Zhao said happily. "Thank you, Duke Qiao."

“Since Your Highness likes them, then keep these Kunlun slaves. They can keep you entertained in the future, and consider them a birthday gift from me,” Lord Qiao said.

"Hehe, since you've gone to so much trouble, I naturally can't refuse. Thank you very much." Prince Zhao truly loves Cuju (ancient Chinese football), and Lord Qiao's birthday gift was exactly what he wanted.

“Young masters, come forward. I have another gift for you,” King Zhao said with a smile. “Although I cannot give you the Southern Jewel Tower, you can choose whatever you like from this.”

King Zhao pointed to the pavilion where the prizes were displayed and said, "Go and choose!"

When it was time to take their seats, Gong Chang'an and his children sat at one table.

Everyone was hungry, but also very excited, eating and talking at the same time.

The people at the banquet were all clinking glasses and laughing and chatting.

No one remembers the unfortunate Song Xiang anymore, and no one even asks how badly he was injured.

At this moment, Song Xiang was lying in an empty room in the backyard of the Prince Zhao's mansion, writhing in excruciating pain.

His right hip and thigh were broken into several pieces, causing him to faint several times from the pain, only to wake up again later.

The doctor used a wooden board to immobilize his broken leg and instructed, "You must not move it. You must rest for a full hundred days before you can get out of bed."

"Doctor... will my leg... ever get better?" Song Xiang asked, gasping for breath.

"Sigh, your leg injury is too serious." The doctor shook his head. "Even if you can walk in the end, you'll be lame."

"No, doctor, my leg can't be crippled! I need it to support my family!" Song Xiang cried out anxiously. "Please, please find another way to treat me!"

"It's no use," the doctor sighed. "You're such a grown man, I can't lie to you. Just give up on that idea! You've served the prince all these years, he won't mistreat you. He'll definitely take good care of you. Just focus on recovering and don't think about these things anymore."

"No, my legs can't be crippled, it's different." Song Xiang was completely at a loss.

Since he was injured, King Zhao would certainly not ignore him, but he would only give him a sum of money to settle him down.

From now on, he would be abandoned like a useless person and would never receive the favor of the King of Zhao again.

How could he accept this?