Tokyo Wrestler

The room was not large and the furnishings were quite simple, with only an old computer desk and some withered green plants.

Behind the computer desk sat an old man with short hair and graying temples. His face was lined with deep wrinkles and a vicious knife scar running from his forehead to his lips. Coupled with his sharp eyes, everything about him spoke of his extraordinary youth.

"Butler" Taro Ishimura.

This was the second time Sett had seen him.

The first time was when Sett came to the Nerima underground boxing ring to register and sign a contract and a death pact.

At that moment, Ishimura Taro had a stern face, and his sharp eyes made Sett's scalp tingle. His tone was also quite unfriendly, which made Sett immediately want to back down.

And now.

As Sett re-entered, Ishimura Taro, who had expected it, was not surprised. However, his wrinkled face suddenly broke into a smile, which, combined with the scar, made him look like an old chrysanthemum that had been slashed horizontally.

On the computer screen in front of him, the four punches that Sett had just used to instantly kill Okazawa were playing in slow motion on a loop, the image quality was slightly blurry.

"What excellent boxing skills! Fast, ruthless, and accurate!"

As Seti walked in, Ishimura Taro showered him with praise, his brows furrowing as if he were reminiscing about his younger self.

"Really? I think so too."

Seeing this, Sett didn't immediately bring up the matter of appearance fees.

Instead, he shamelessly replied and stepped forward to take a closer look at himself on the computer screen. Even in slow motion, his fists continued to pound away as if they were not stiff.

Even he couldn't help but comment in his heart:

Even without the Conqueror's Blade, I am still Ip Man!

"Haha, youth is wonderful." Ishimura Taro did not resist Sett's approach. Instead, he laughed in response and reached out to move the computer screen closer to Sett.

He continued:

"To be honest, when I first met you today, all I saw in you was cowardice and evasion. I judged that if someone like you were to enter the octagon, he would either die or be seriously injured, especially since you are just a student. Perhaps you are getting old and soft-hearted. I do not want to see a student spend his whole life in a wheelchair or even a hospital bed."

"That's why I deliberately made things difficult for you, hoping you'd give up. I hope you won't take it to heart."

Sett shook his head: "It's nothing, you meant well."

"Haha, but your performance today has undoubtedly slapped me in the face. I'm really getting old. I actually misjudged such a talented boxing prospect."

After Ishimura Taro finished laughing, his old eyes gleamed as he stared at Sett expectantly and asked:

"Do you have any plans to play in the professional league? With your fists, if you also practice your footwork, I think you could go toe-to-toe with Tyson at his peak."

Sett refused outright: "I don't have that plan for the time being."

Based on his recent battle with Okazawa, he has a clear understanding of his current strength. His reaction time and power are not much different from before. The only difference is the data-driven combat mode, plus the damage increase from Sett's passive and active skills.

Fighting in underground boxing matches is fine, but if you actually go and fight in a professional boxing match with a bunch of analysts, you'll probably be figured out very quickly.

"That's a real shame, Tokyo will be missing a world champion," Taro Ishimura said regretfully.

After a brief chat, he remembered his business.

So he took out the contract Sett had signed a few hours earlier, along with a stack of 10,000 yen bills with Shibusawa Eiichi's portrait on them, from the drawer of his computer desk, and said:

"According to the contract, you won this boxing match, so your appearance fee can be increased by 120 times, totaling 600,000. Please check it."

Upon hearing this, Sett immediately took the ten thousand yuan bill without hesitation. Touching the unique feel of Shibusawa Eiichi's hand, the corners of his mouth unconsciously turned up, and he began to count the bills one by one.

The appearance fee at this underground boxing ring in Nerima Ward is clearly stated in black and white in the contract:

For first-time participants in underground boxing matches, the payout is 5000 yen for a loss and 600,000 yen for a win. It is precisely this extreme disparity between winning and losing that attracts a large number of hot-headed young people eager to make quick money. They all believe they can win and therefore focus on the 600,000 yen prize. (Note 1)

But in the end, not many people actually receive the 600,000 yuan; most receive only a critical illness notice or a surgical agreement.

Sett is already a very small minority.

“No mistake.” After counting, there were exactly sixty bills. Sett quickly stuffed them into his pocket and answered.

Then Ishimura Taro said:

"Are you still interested in playing here? The appearance fee is negotiable."

"How much?" Sett asked quite directly.

He roughly understood the rules of underground boxing, which were similar to professional boxing matches. Appearance fees were also related to the boxer's fame; basically, the more fights a boxer had, the higher his appearance fee would be.

"Win or lose, one million!"

Taro Ishimura quoted a price that a "second-time graduate" could never possibly possess.

Normally, the appearance fees for underground boxers are only revealed after the betting pool is opened, in order to ensure that the underground boxing ring does not lose money. However, in order to keep Sett, he obviously did not follow the tradition.

"Three million," Sett bargained.

"What? Three million?? I've worked in the boxing ring for so many years, and this is the first time I've ever seen you raise the price like this."

“Do you know that Okazawa, whom you just defeated, fought five matches here and won them all? Now, based on the size of the betting pool and the profit sharing, we only gave him a little over ten million in appearance fees for the sixth match.” Ishimura Taro shook his head, looking troubled.

He then explained apologetically:

"I didn't set the price. I'm basically just a gatekeeper; I don't have that much power. I just relay the boss's orders."

Sett hesitated for a moment, then, remembering the seven hundred million debt his family was currently burdened with, he spoke:

"Minimum two million, or I'll go to another boxing ring."

The voice just fell.

“Deal!” Ishimura Taro immediately agreed.

His troubled expression vanished instantly, and he quickly pulled out a new contract from the drawer, saying, "If you agree, sign it here."

Looking at the other person's skillful movements and the way they seemed afraid of changing their mind.

Sett: ? ? ?

"I feel like I'm going to go too low..." he complained.

Seemingly noticing Sett's subtle glance, Ishimura Taro chuckled, a sly glint appearing on his scarred, chrysanthemum-like face, and said:

"Hehe, just a little negotiation tactic... But two million is indeed a high price. I'm sure you can run all over Tokyo and you won't find a boxing ring that offers you, a second-timer, such a price."

"By the way, when do you plan to play your next match? We can help you arrange a good time when you don't have to go to school. Do you have any requirements for your opponent? Do you want to practice or prepare for a tough battle?" Ishimura Taro changed the subject.

"Tomorrow is fine, the opponent doesn't matter."

Sett also understood that for someone who had only fought one boxing match and wasn't very famous, two million was a reasonable price. The amount would gradually increase as the number of underground boxing matches increased.

So Sett didn't say much and gave a normal reply.

"tomorrow!?"

Such a bland answer made Ishimura Taro's old eyes widen in disbelief as he looked at Sett and asked in a daze.

Even professional boxers, without any injuries and with a support team, can only fight once every month or two. Sett's "tomorrow" really surprised him.

After a moment's hesitation, Ishimura Taro, having been through similar experiences, kindly offered his advice:

"Young man, you should rest for a few more days. Boxing is not a game. Don't let short-term gains blind you. If you're not in top condition, it's easy to have an accident, and you know the consequences of an accident in the octagon."

"It's fine, you can arrange it for me. As long as I can play tomorrow, that's fine," Sett said, not caring.

With his data-driven combat mode, he is always at his best as long as his health bar is full!

That's what makes him so much better than the average boxer.

"Alright, I'll go and tell my men to make the arrangements for you later." Having said all that needed to be said, since Sett insisted, Ishimura Taro would naturally comply.

Sett glanced at the contract, signed his name, and then turned to leave.

"If there's nothing else, I'll be leaving now."

If nothing unexpected happens, Mom will find out I snuck out and be waiting for me at the door... he couldn't help but think to himself.

"Wait a moment."

"Hmm?" Sett turned his head in confusion.

Taro Ishimura replied, "That's right. For promotional purposes, it's best for each boxer to have a memorable and catchy nickname, such as 'Black Hand Okazawa,' or 'Butler Taro Ishimura,' etc. Do you have any ideas for what nickname to give yourselves?"

"Wait, woman terminator, powerhouse..." Sett replied seriously.

"Sett, Sett."

......

After taking his backpack from the secretary with the flying hat, Sett walked out of the underground boxing ring through a hidden back door and arrived at the deserted, nameless, and desolate street of Kitamachi 7-chome.

Take out your phone.

I glanced at the time:

[2:11 AM]

Oh right... I still have the phone number of the guy who hit me... I'll call him... I can at least extort a few hundred thousand from him... Sett suddenly remembered, used his phone to find the number the other party left, and dialed it.

Two beeps were followed by a gentle female voice. Her soft voice, like a red veil, gently caressed Sett's ear canal, saying:

"Sorry, the number you dialed is not in service."

Dry!!

Sett cursed under his breath, saying that the city was full of tricks and wishing this person's ancestors a thousand curses. He turned off his phone, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and set off down the deserted night road, running wildly towards home.