“Let go!” Qi Beisong roared in a muffled voice.

Cheng Ji, showing some courtesy, actually let go and even stepped back two meters.

In truth, he was quite embarrassed at that moment. Fighting relied on muscle memory, and without developing that muscle, there was no memory to rely on.

Cheng Ji felt dejected, thinking this body was too weak. If Qi Beisong had even a little understanding of escape techniques, he would have pinned Cheng Ji to the ground just now.

“Can I leave now?” Cheng Ji asked Qi Beisong, knowing he couldn’t afford to tangle with him in his current physical disadvantage.

There was no way Qi Beisong would let him go. Shaking his arm, which still ached, he glared angrily and lunged again.

Cheng Ji sidestepped and suddenly grabbed his arm, pulling him forward.

This was a move that used minimal force to counter greater strength. Qi Beisong had already worn himself out with his moves, and being pulled off balance, his upper body lunged forward due to inertia while his lower body failed to keep up. He fell heavily to the ground.

The carpet was soft, but Qi Beisong’s forehead hit the bench at the foot of the bed, causing stars to dance in his vision from the pain.^[1]Dizzy

Yet he was stubborn. Shaking his head, he silently pushed himself up, unintentionally exposing his unguarded back to Cheng Ji.

Cheng Ji thought, ‘Sigh, at this point, I’d usually go for a rear-naked choke.‘

A rear-naked choke was a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu technique targeting the opponent’s throat to choke them from behind.

In his past life, Cheng Ji wasn’t particularly muscular but was flexible, so he practiced ground techniques to make up for his lack of strength.

However, first, Qi Beisong’s actions—attempted violent assault and illegal detainment—didn’t justify such severe retaliation. Second, Cheng Ji’s current body was too weak. If not for his quick reflexes, he wouldn’t have fared better than a physically active high school boy. He couldn’t guarantee he’d successfully choke Qi Beisong unconscious in one move.

Standing behind Qi Beisong, Cheng Ji asked, “Boss, can I go now?”

Qi Beisong stood up, holding his head. As he turned, he suddenly went berserk and charged like a cannonball.

This move was truly fierce. Who would’ve thought someone as dignified-looking as Qi Beisong would resort to a wildly flailing ancient boxing style popularly known as “turtle punches”?

Cheng Ji stepped back two paces, noticing his opponent’s aimless swinging. Deciding not to dodge, he protected his head and timed a kick to Qi Beisong’s abdomen.

The kick, lacking the power of a hard-soled boot, felt soft and ineffective. Cheng Ji knew this, so he dodged after landing the kick and aimed another strike at Qi Beisong’s knee from the side.

In the past, this move would have knocked someone down, leaving them unable to stand for a while. But today, things went awry. Qi Beisong grabbed Cheng Ji’s ankle mid-move.

Even Qi Beisong himself was surprised at his luck.

It turned out that a metal decorative button on his pants had snagged on Cheng Ji’s fishnet sock.

He immediately thought to use his height advantage to lift Cheng Ji off the ground. However, Cheng Ji’s body was incredibly flexible—almost boneless—and he twisted in his grip, countering with a strike to Qi Beisong’s groin area.

It wasn’t the crotch but the groin. Cheng Ji believed hitting below the belt was too low, although this wasn’t much better.

Real hand-to-hand combat is like that—no fancy moves, nothing elegant. The essence is to attack the opponent’s weakest points in the shortest time possible to deal maximum damage.

You use whatever tools you have on hand. Without tools and in a disadvantageous position, underhanded moves like eye gouging or groin kicks become the most effective techniques.

Qi Beisong collapsed to the ground, clutching his lower abdomen in pain. To avoid crying out, he bit his lip so hard he nearly bled.

Cheng Ji, too, was shaken. Victory or defeat had been decided in a split second. If not for his reflexive counter, he might have suffered greatly.

Given Qi Beisong’s size, if he’d known how to apply a proper hold, Cheng Ji might have ended up with fractures starting from his knees.

Panting slightly, Cheng Ji looked down at the twitching, pain-stricken Qi Beisong, thinking, That spot is only a few inches away from humanity’s main reproductive organ. I didn’t hit him that hard. I hope I didn’t really injure him, or his entire family will come after me.

“Where did I hit you? Let me see.” Out of concern, Cheng Ji leaned closer.

But Qi Beisong was half genuine and half pretending. When he saw Cheng Ji approaching, he suddenly grabbed his legs and pulled them back with both arms.

Cheng Ji, weaker than him, was pulled down, landing on his back with his head hitting the carpet.

He was startled, thinking Qi Beisong might have another attack coming, but the guy, after one successful move, grew complacent, resting his chin on Cheng Ji’s stomach, smirking as he began to laugh.

Cheng Ji quickly broke free, flipping over and locking him in a cross-lock, demonstrating through action that he was better at lying down than standing up.

Most submission techniques in Jiu-Jitsu use the principle of leverage—just a little force applied by the attacker causes immense pain to the other, and in severe cases, can cause sprains or dislocations.

The cross-lock, targets the opponent’s elbows. Cheng Ji twisted Qi Beisong’s arm twice, and the latter trembled, his face contorting in pain, but he didn’t beg for mercy.

Cheng Ji tested whether he would beg for mercy, but Qi Beisong, as usual, was stubborn. He was as unyielding as a crab, able to control anyone he wanted, strike anyone he wished, and never admit defeat—not in this life.

Cheng Ji glanced at him, unsure what to do next, and after a while, released his hold.

Qi Beisong, breathing heavily, his right arm still aching from the struggle, saw Cheng Ji pressing down on his chest, elbow to his neck, their faces close together. Cheng Ji said, “Then I’ll leave.”

This was an extremely humiliating position, and Qi Beisong’s eyes turned bloodshot with anger.

Cheng Ji said, “You’ve got such great muscles, but it’s a shame you don’t know how to fight.”

Qi Beisong glared at him.

“I’ll teach you when I have time, but I’m leaving now,” Cheng Ji said. “If I let go, you’re not allowed to chase me. And even if you do, you won’t be able to beat me.”

Qi Beisong continued to glare.

It was then that he took a good look at Cheng Ji for the first time. He looked like he was heavily made up, ridiculously unattractive.

But Qi Beisong could also tell that beneath all the thick makeup, Cheng Ji had an excellent natural physique. He had just deliberately made himself look unrecognizable, neither human nor ghost.

“Your eye shadow is smeared,” Qi Beisong said hoarsely.

Cheng Ji awkwardly wiped the corner of his eye.

“Your lipstick is smeared too,” Qi Beisong said, intentionally making a disgusted face. “You’re ugly. I’ve never seen anyone as ugly as you. I want to puke.”

Cheng Ji responded with a simple, “Oh.”

He stepped back, wiping his lips with his finger, thinking to himself, ‘It’s not smeared,‘ and walked toward the master bedroom bathroom, saying, “Well, you can puke slowly, I’m leaving.”

Qi Beisong suddenly lunged from behind to attack. He’d never suffered such a loss in his life. As long as he was still standing and able to fight, there was no way he’d let Cheng Ji go.

Cheng Ji turned around and kicked him in the stomach.

Qi Beisong was kicked back several steps and fell to the ground, his eyes still fierce as a wolf. “Heh, you’re gasping more than I am.”

Cheng Ji sighed, thinking, ‘Yeah, that’s because my actions have already exceeded the limits of this body’s capacity. My muscles haven’t been listening to me since I started climbing the stairs, and now my joints are aching more than Qi Beisong’s.‘

By tomorrow, he would be in so much pain that he wouldn’t even be able to pick up a chopstick.

“If I stop breathing, I’ll die, you fool,” he said nonchalantly.

“I’ll kill you!” Qi Beisong shouted.

Cheng Ji responded with a grunt, suddenly grabbing a travel magazine from the small table and throwing it at Qi Beisong.

Qi Beisong quickly blocked with his arm, instinctively closing his eyes. When he opened them again, Cheng Ji was already right in front of him, their noses just inches apart.

Cheng Ji decided not to continue testing Qi Beisong’s endurance, as his body was close to giving out.

He clenched his right fist, sticking out the second joint of his middle finger, pressing it tightly with his index and ring fingers, and securing it with his thumb. This technique was called a “fist tip” and was one of the most common hand positions in close combat, aiming to strike the opponent’s vulnerable areas, like the Adam’s apple or the temple.

Cheng Ji aimed for the temple.

Qi Beisong grunted as he fell to the ground, unconscious.

“That’s what you get for being arrogant.”

Cheng Ji wobbled as he got up, leaning on his knees, breathing heavily. He glanced at the back of his hand and shook it.

The joints on the back of his hand were scraped raw, his arms and legs covered in bruises, and there was some blood, most of it his own.

Blood was flowing from his nose, likely due to the physical strain. Forcing his body, which had never even thrown a proper punch, to perform like this had led to this result.

Cheng Ji lifted his torn T-shirt, muttered a curse under his breath—“Barely decent,”—and wiped the blood under his nose.

He crouched down to observe Qi Beisong, thinking to himself that this guy was interesting. He’d rather keep fighting and losing than call for help.

With the two of them fighting like this, the bodyguards outside probably heard the noise, but without Qi Beisong calling them, even if they had ten more guts, they wouldn’t dare to come in.

Qi Beisong wouldn’t stay unconscious for long, and Cheng Ji couldn’t rest. He still had a lot to do.

First, he needed to tie up Qi Beisong’s hands and feet.

Second, he needed to strip him and take photos.

Finally, he had to wake Qi Beisong up and threaten him with a malicious smile, telling him that if he sought revenge on Cheng Ji or Shen Zimo, he would post the photos online.

When Cheng Ji started to remove Qi Beisong’s pants, he hesitated for a moment.

He was a relatively innocent person, and had never done such lewd things before, but there was no other way to ensure his safety right now.

He spoke to the unconscious Qi Beisong, “Young Master Qi, I’m sorry. But if I hadn’t stopped it in time, that guy would’ve been in real trouble. I really don’t understand how you could sleep with him. What kind of ‘love potion’ did he feed you?”

Cheng Ji quickly stripped off Qi Beisong’s outer pants and underwear. As he did so, he was suddenly more puzzled.

Qi Beisong’s dick was rather impressive.

Men are sensitive about such things and often compare, and Cheng Ji was no exception.

“Tsk,” he crouched down, perplexed. “Young Master Qi, you’ve got impressive dick, why not just have a good conversation with someone you like, regardless of gender? Why force things like this?”

What a shame, such a good person becoming a bastard. Cheng Ji shook his head regretfully, ready to take photos as evidence. However, after feeling around, he realized he hadn’t brought his phone. Was it really that difficult to carry a phone while on duty?

Without his phone, he had to pretend as if he had one.

Cheng Ji woke up Qi Beisong, who now had eyes full of rage, almost burning with fury. Cheng Ji began flattering him first, “Qi, you’re great. You really surprised me. You can take a lot more than I expected.”

He added, “It’s not shameful that you lost to me because I’ve trained. Of course, you might have trained too, but you trained with practiced routines. I don’t. People who train routines are rigid in their movements, while those like me, who don’t, fight more… shamelessly.”

“To be honest, I have no strength left. You could easily call your bodyguards to deal with me. But right now, you’re tied up like this, with your lower body exposed, and if someone sees you, your reputation is ruined. So, even though I didn’t gag you, I’m sure you won’t yell, right?”

Cheng Ji smiled at Qi Beisong, his grin overly sweet.

Qi Beisong didn’t yell. He was practically grinding his teeth to the point of breaking them.