Cthulhu Panel: One organ mutates every day

Black Gold Bar, underground, Central Business District, Michigan.

Eight o'clock in the evening. Dim lighting and shadows, luxurious yet austere atmosphere.

The booths surrounding the arena were packed, and the entire hall was bustling with noise and a wild, sultry atmosphere.

The usually dignified and aloof wealthy and powerful figures had all shed their pretenses, leaning forward with excited expressions, some shouting and cheering, others cursing and swearing, their voices rising and falling, filling the entire hall.

Upon seeing Ethan challenge the underground boxing champion, Wayne decided to place a bet.

He quickly called over the betting clerk, too lazy to exchange any more chips, and directly pulled out most of the cash he had on him, 3000 federal dollars, and glanced at Ethan's number 34.

Bet on Ethan to win.

The betting clerk, head down, quickly wrote down the bettor, queue number, amount, odds, and bet target in the dim light. He made two copies, keeping one half for his own records and tearing off the other half to give to Wayne as a prize redemption voucher.

Just as the betting clerk was nodding repeatedly and preparing to leave, a clear male voice called out to him.

Wayne and the betting clerk turned to look.

A striking young man walked over. He had a fair and refined face, delicate features, wore a light gray suit, a loose tie, and had two buttons undone at the collar of his shirt. He was holding a half-empty glass of whiskey.

"Wait a minute, I want to place a bet too," the young man said.

The betting clerk quickly stepped forward and approached the young man to make contact.

Because the bar was too noisy, Wayne couldn't hear the specifics of their conversation, but he did hear that the young man was also betting on Ethan, number 34, to win, and judging from the chips he pulled out, they were all the maximum amount.

Soon, the betting clerk nodded repeatedly and left, heading to the next guest's seat to place a bet.

"Hello." The young man, swaying half a glass of whiskey, walked towards Wayne and greeted him.

Wayne knew that the other party had bet on Ethan to win, and since the other party was dressed like an office worker, he was willing to chat with him for a while.

"Hello," Wayne said.

The young man smiled and handed over a business card, asking:

"Sir, judging from your distinguished bearing, elegant demeanor, and generous spending, you must be of high status. Let me introduce myself. I'm Felix, a top client manager at Morgan Bank, and I've achieved record-breaking performance for five consecutive years, haha, you know what I mean. I just saw you bet on number 34 to win; do you know number 34 too?"

With that rapid-fire speech, is he a financial salesperson?

When Wayne saw that the other party had brought up Ethan, he took the business card that was handed to him.

The moment I held the business card, I had a very strange feeling.

After a few seconds of careful reflection, I realized that when I first touched the business card, I didn't seem to feel its weight at all; it felt like it was about to slip out of my hand.

But it only lasted for a moment before returning to normal.

Felix Winters, Top Client Manager, Morgan Bank Michigan Branch

"Are they here to attract customers for the bank?" Wei En thought to himself.

"Number 34, I'd say we know each other, you know him too?"

Felix only took a sip of his drink after seeing Wayne check the business card:

"Me? I don't really know Number 34. But I heard that Phoenix is ​​boxing tonight. I'm good at judging people, just like I am at judging stocks. If Phoenix is ​​here tonight, it must be Number 34."

Uh... is he that good at bragging?

"Is that why you bet on number 34?" Wayne asked.

"Anyone who knows the name Phoenix Ethan would bet on number 34, right?" Felix said with a playful look in his eyes.

Since you said you didn't know Number 34, but then suddenly mentioned Ethan's real name, do you know him or not?

Wein focused his attention, observing the other person's micro-expressions, pulse, and even pores and sweat glands, but found nothing particularly unusual.

"Well, let's see how number 34 performs then." Wayne smiled, not responding to the topic of Phoenix Ethan, and keeping the conversation focused on number 34.

"Sure," Felix said with a smile in his eyes, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Wayne raised his hand and gestured with his chin toward the waiters weaving through the aisle. Once the waiter squeezed in, he quietly ordered a glass of straight whiskey.

He whispered, "After this boxing match is over, tell number 34 that Mr. Webber is coming to see him."

The waiter responded and turned to disappear into the smoky crowd. A short while later, he brought over a short-mouthed glass, the amber-colored liquor swirling gently.

After the waiter left, Wayne and Felix stood in a corner of the hall, looking at the ring together.

The atmosphere was lively, with waves of sound rising and falling.

The underground boxing champion had a short, thick neck, prominent cheekbones, fierce eyes, bulging muscles, and an imposing aura.

Even though Ethan was smaller than his opponent, he remained calm and completed his pre-match activities on his own.

Tensions are high, the challenge is about to begin.

Many gamblers in the audience were belittling Ethan and booing him.

Compared to the underground boxing champion's fierce aura, Ethan appeared somewhat weak and overconfident.

In the eyes of most gamblers, Ethan was about to be crushed or even killed in the ring by the boxing champion. Therefore, they all bet on the champion to win.

"Do you often come here to gamble on boxing?" Wayne asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Not often," Felix said.

"How many people do you think will bet on number 34?" Wayne asked.

"No more than a quarter," Felix said calmly, yet with an air of confidence.

"Why?" Wayne asked.

"Many of our regular customers aren't here tonight, and number 34 doesn't often step into the ring. The champion in the ring is new and hasn't seen number 34 before, so he's just bluffing. Given these factors, only a small number of bettors who remember number 34 will bet on him to win," Felix explained.

It turned out to be the case.

But... does this count as not coming often?

They must come here every day, otherwise how could they be so familiar with each other?

"Okay, I don't think there's much of a suspense either." Wayne shrugged.

On the ring, the bell rang, and the boxing match began.

The boxing champion suddenly sprinted forward, delivering a powerful punch straight to Ethan's face.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and countless chips were slapped together.

Ethan simply shifted his foot slightly to the side, deftly dodging the powerful blow.

The boxing champion lost his balance and staggered forward half a step.

Before his opponent could turn around and adjust, Ethan raised his elbow and slammed it into his ribs. The boxer grunted and hunched over.

Ethan held the upper hand.

...

In their subsequent encounters, the differences in their styles became increasingly apparent.

The boxing champion, relying on the brute force honed through ring battles, relentlessly unleashed swings, hooks, and knee strikes. These were all deadly moves from underground boxing matches, each aimed at inflicting serious damage. His movements were expansive, wild, and brutal.

Ethan, however, remained composed throughout, his movements swift and precise, targeting only weaknesses and vital points.

The boxing champion's punches and kicks all missed their mark, each full-force swing leaving a huge opening.

Ethan either blocked or deflected the force, or locked the opponent's wrists in close combat, breaking the boxing champion's offensive with just a few moves.

At a certain moment, Ethan suddenly seized the opportunity, grabbed the boxer's wrist, pressed down, and tripped him with a leg lock.

The boxing champion completely lost his balance and fell heavily forward.

Before he could even get up, Ethan delivered a knee strike to his jaw, and the boxer's eyes rolled back as he slammed onto the ring, motionless.

The cheers and shouts in the arena suddenly fell silent. The gamblers who had bet on the boxing champion slammed their fists on the table and cursed angrily. Only a few gamblers who had seen number 34 fight before were not surprised.

A moment later, the referee glanced at Ethan with some trepidation and loudly announced, "Number 34! Victory!"

Ethan then refused to defend his title and chose to leave the ring for a rest, causing another uproar in the audience.

A corner of the bar lobby.

"See? I told you number 34 would win, but you wouldn't believe me," Felix said with a smug smile, taking a sip of his drink.

Wayne looked incredulous.

Dude, when did you say that number 34 would win?

When have I ever doubted that number 34 would win?

Don't you know I also bet on number 34 to win?

"Uh... haha, I believe you, of course I believe you." Wayne laughed awkwardly and took a sip of his drink, his only thought being to reunite with Ethan as soon as possible and get away from this strange bank account manager.

"This boxing match is so predictable, it's really boring, far less interesting than the things that have happened recently," Felix said disappointedly.