HLM – Chapter 843 The Fighting Game

Every summer, beer rampages through Wellington, and the city transforms into a swirling vortex of craft beer bars. Statistics show that Wellington has the highest number of breweries in all of New Zealand.

However, most of the beer sold in Wellington’s bars is brewed by the bars themselves. Without a distinctive house brew, such bars don’t attract much popularity in New Zealand.

Wang Bo and his group were staying in the inner city. Together with the waterfront, this area was filled with bars. As they walked along the streets, they saw countless sexy short skirts, high heels, and partying men and women.

The skirts barely reached mid-thigh, the heels were all ten centimeters tall, and pale legs flashed wildly up and down the street. If Wang Bo weren’t with Eva, he would have taken a good, long look.

Hani wasn’t interested in these women at all. Sweeping the surroundings with excitement, he said, “I haven’t been here in years. I remember P1 had some great beer bars back then—we must check them out tonight.”

Na Qingyang grimaced. “Seriously? Still drinking?”

“Drop that questioning tone. When men hang out together, what else would we do if not drink?” Hani said righteously.

Eva smiled sweetly at Wang Bo and said, “I’ll drink tonight too. If everyone gets drunk, I’m not sure how I’ll make it back… but I think I’ll definitely find a comfortable place to sleep.”

Hani laughed loudly. “If you get drunk, you’ll think there’s no bed in the world more comfortable than the street!”

Just then, a group of young guys passed by. Someone overheard Eva’s words and whistled. “Hey, sweetheart, I’ve got a soft big bed in my room. The sheets are clean and smell nice. That’s definitely a comfortable place.”

Eva simply smiled and ignored him. Wang Bo frowned. “If that big bed is so comfortable, why are you guys out on the street? Go back and sleep on your big bed together.”

One youth raised a middle finger at him. “Of course we’ll go back to sleep on the big bed—and we’re taking this sweetheart with us…”

If it were just harmless teasing, Wang Bo could accept it. New Zealanders love to joke, and sometimes the jokes go overboard.

But this wasn’t joking anymore. This was blatant harassment. The things these youths said were disgusting.

Na Qingyang gave them a glance and pointed down the street. “Get lost, quickly. Otherwise I bet you’re going to end up miserable.”

These youths weren’t the type to back down. They surged forward and surrounded the four of them.

A tall, burly youth poked a finger into Na Qingyang’s chest and said disdainfully, “Hey, yellow-skin. Are you tourists or what? Looks like no one told you who calls the shots in New Zealand.”

As the youths drew closer, Wang Bo caught the stench of alcohol. Clearly, they were wasted.

He shrugged at Hani. “I’m definitely not drinking tonight. Wellington’s fine wine now smells rotten—I’m not drinking rotten wine.”

With that, he darted a hand out and slapped the pointing youth across the face—so hard the guy spun in place twice.

“F**k!”

“Sh*t!”

“Motherf***ers!”

Curses exploded all around, and the youths charged toward Wang Bo.

Na Qingyang bent down, grabbed the waist of the guy in front of him, and bulldozed forward. The drunk youth couldn’t keep his balance and was quickly shoved to the ground.

Then Qingyang straddled his abdomen and punched down like a rainstorm, yelling, “Who’s the motherf***er? Tell me! Tell me! TELL ME!”

Wang Bo was the main fighter in the brawl. Ever since Oakley returned, he’d been watching his training and had learned basic Muay Thai skills from Kunchat. So he knew both boxing footwork and Muay Thai strikes.

Faced with attackers coming from multiple angles, he hopped around quickly, avoiding vital areas, shoulders raised to shield his head. He grabbed one youth by the collar, yanked him forward, and slammed a fist into his face. The youth’s nose bridge shattered instantly, blood spraying like a burst hydrant.

Another youth approached. Wang Bo spun and sent a straight punch crashing into him. The guy screamed, clutching his abdomen and dropping to his knees.

Eva seized the chaos, ran up, and tapped a youth’s chin with the pointed tip of her high heel.

She didn’t look like she put much force into it, but the youth shrieked like a slaughtered pig, clutching his neck as he wailed—just like a castrated boar.

Seeing a youth glance toward him, Hani immediately took out a cigarette, put it between his lips, and flicked his lighter around with flourish. “What are you looking at? Go through the hands of my ‘subordinates’ first.”

An old fox is still a fox; an old rabbit is hard for a hawk to catch. As a veteran tax inspector, he’d dealt with countless gangsters. And he was collecting taxes from them—something no gangster likes.

But he had never been hurt, because his mind was well-tempered. He also learned a few tricks from those gangs. Standing there smoking, he did exude the aura of a mob boss. The youth didn’t dare touch him and instead turned to fight Wang Bo.

Naturally, he ran straight into his doom. Just as he turned, Wang Bo swung another punch—another red fountain burst open.

The street was crowded. As soon as the fight broke out, someone called the police. A patrol car arrived quickly.

Seeing the police, Wang Bo sped up, knocking out the last few still-standing youths. One remaining youth saw five or six of his friends lying on the ground and freaked out, trying to run.

But drunk and dizzy, how could he outrun Wang Bo, who ran up mountains every morning?

Wang Bo caught him, jumped, and executed a clean flying kick to his back, sending him sprawling. Wang Bo landed, pushed off the ground with both hands, and sprang upright with ease.

Some bystanders applauded. “Cool! That’s definitely Chinese kung fu! You’re a martial arts master for sure!”

Two police officers stepped out of the car but didn’t dare get close. From a distance, they shouted, “Hands on your head—squat down! Now! Or we will call in armed support!”

Wang Bo cooperated and squatted down. He knew they weren’t bluffing. If he resisted, the AOS special response team would show up.

Na Qingyang was still hyped up, straddling the youth and pounding him like a sandbag.

Hani had to drag him away, while Qingyang yelled, “F**k your mother! You think you’re tough? Keep acting tough! Let go of me—I’ll beat him till even his mom won’t recognize him!”

The two officers still called for backup. There were more than ten people—one patrol car wasn’t enough to handle them.

Squatting on the ground, Wang Bo called Alexander. “Hello, Mr. Vice Chairman? Sorry to bother you so late—are you still awake?”

Alexander’s signature hearty laugh boomed through the phone. “Of course! Of course! Wellington’s nightlife is just beginning, isn’t it? What are you up to?”

Wang Bo laughed along. “Yes, yes—the night is just beginning. I’m on P1 Street, playing an unlimited free-fight game with a few guys.”