Chapter 12: Golden Lane
Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Golden Lane
After seeing Xia Chu off, Fang Chen went alone to Golden Lane, located in the old district of Jinchuan City.
It was a money-squandering den where dragons and snakes mingled—a shady underworld filled with underground fight clubs, casinos, and brothels. It operated under the guise of "getting rich overnight and changing one’s Destiny." For this reason, some called it Golden Lane, while others referred to it as a haven of tender allure. Fang Chen had only heard of it but had never been here in person.
Upon his first visit, the sights before him differed somewhat from his expectations. He had assumed it would be a chaotic, lawless place with collapsed addicts and street-brawling thugs everywhere. While the crowd was indeed a mixed bag—with small groups of malicious-looking people squatting by the walls—the surface-level public order was surprisingly decent. More importantly, he noticed a large number of security personnel, both in plain sight and hidden in the shadows, scanning the passersby.
"Looks relatively legitimate," Fang Chen judged inwardly.
He strolled around inconspicuously, observing in silence. Over half the storefronts in this area were various casinos, while about thirty percent were entertainment venues like bars, nightclubs, and brothels. The rest consisted of a mishmash of pawnshops, weapon stores, and grocery shops. Situated in the very center of Golden Lane was a fight club named the Geta Club.
Just by casually glancing from the outside, Fang Chen spotted several people safely walking out of Golden Lane, clutching tens or even hundreds of thousands in winnings.
"Makes sense," Fang Chen mused. "The house wants to attract more players. If they can’t even guarantee basic personal and financial safety, this business wouldn’t last long." He raised his estimation of the area’s order.
Just as Fang Chen was about to go in and take a look, two receptionists walked up.
"Hello, sir. Please expose your wrist. Thank you for your cooperation."
"My wrist?" Fang Chen extended his hand.
One of the receptionists turned his wrist over and said, "Apologies, sir. Superpower Users are not allowed inside the casino."
"Oh?"
After a moment of surprise, Fang Chen instantly understood. It made sense. Superpowers were bizarre and varied; no one knew what kind of abilities someone might have. If all Superpower Users came to gamble, it would turn into a gathering of the Kings of Gamblers and a true Battle of Gods. However, this also gave Fang Chen a new understanding of the Spirit Seal.
He thought, "It seems this doesn’t just grant the identity of a Superpower User, but intentionally separates us from the ordinary human world."
"Are Tier 2 Superpower Users barred as well?" Fang Chen asked tentatively.
"No, sir. Even at Tier 1, someone could be a Mage of the Elemental Affinity Element. If they have cultivated a Pupil Art, it would be highly unfair to our other customers."
"Oh, all right."
Fang Chen had originally just planned to go in and test the waters. He wanted to see if he could use his Time Stop ability to see through hole cards or predict dice rolls to win some easy money. On second thought, however, gambling was too unstable. Even if he could go in, he had no intention of doing so. The water was simply too deep here.
In his previous life, he rarely touched gambling, but he had heard of countless methods for cheating. Even if he saw a triple during a Time Stop, he couldn’t be sure the dice wouldn’t be swapped out with sleight of hand the moment the cup was lifted. Furthermore, wasting a Time Stop usage just for a single round of gambling was hardly worth the effort. Compared to relying on luck and potential variables, he trusted his own tangible martial prowess far more.
***
Fang Chen arrived at the Geta Club, where a waiter in a standardized uniform immediately greeted him with an enthusiastic smile.
"Combat and competition, we meet at Ta Peak. Welcome to the Geta Club!" the waiter recited the welcoming slogan fluently. "Sir, did you book a private room, or will you be watching from the main hall?"
Fang Chen’s gaze swept over him as he stated his purpose directly. "I’d like to apply to be a fighter. Who should I speak to?"
The waiter showed no sign of disdain and maintained his smile. "Understood, sir. Please follow me." He stepped aside to lead the way, and the two walked down a corridor into the club.
"Are you a Martial Artist, sir?" the waiter asked as they walked.
"Yes."
"Great. Our regular matches are divided into flyweight, lightweight, middleweight, heavyweight, and super heavyweight. May I ask your weight, sir?"
"Seventy-six kilograms."
"According to the rules, you can participate in the lightweight division," the waiter replied, then added, "Excluding customer tips, the base prize for winning a match is three thousand yuan. Even if you lose, you get a consolation prize of five hundred yuan. We usually schedule one match every three days."
Fang Chen quickly calculated in his mind. Three thousand yuan was roughly his family’s monthly living expenses—not a small sum. However, it was still far from enough for the martial arts exam registration fee, and he had less than a month left.
"Are there any matches that pay a bit more?" he asked.
The waiter glanced at him, seemingly accustomed to such eager attitudes. He gave a soft chuckle and offered a word of advice. "Sir, I advise you to stay grounded. Everyone needs money urgently from time to time, but you have to consider your own capabilities. Sometimes, if you bite off more than you can chew, you won’t just fail to earn money—you might even lose your life."
Fang Chen hadn’t expected a waiter to offer such profound words. He nodded and explained, "Thanks for the reminder. What I mean is, are there matches specifically for True Martial Artists?"
A flash of surprise crossed the waiter’s face. "Sir, you’re a Martial Artist in the True Martial Realm?"
"Yes."
The waiter’s attitude instantly grew much more respectful. "We do, we do! In that case, we’re going the wrong way. Matches for the True Martial Realm and above are all on the first basement floor. Please, follow me!" He changed direction to lead the way and said, "I never expected you to be a True Martial Artist at such a young age, sir. Truly a promising youth."
On the way down to the first basement floor, the waiter briefly explained the rules. It was nothing more than the standard disclaimer that life and death were up to fate. The club only provided basic emergency medical care; if the injuries were too severe, the fighters were on their own. Dirty tricks and weapons were strictly prohibited in the arena, and victories were determined solely by Fists and Feet. Finally, private retaliation within the confines of Golden Lane after a match was strictly forbidden.
Stepping onto the first basement floor, the atmosphere grew noticeably wilder and bloodier. The central arena was forged from Profound Stone, its perimeter firmly enclosed by solid steel frames and wire mesh like a massive iron cage. At that moment, two people were engaged in a fierce battle inside the cage, the sound of their colliding muscles muffled yet powerful. Fang Chen could sense True Qi circulating within both of them, though their proficiency wasn’t very high—likely just a bit better than Li Shanqiang. Below the stage, the audience roared, tossing bills onto the arena from time to time to cheer on the fighters.
They didn’t stop to watch. The waiter led Fang Chen straight to a private room.
"Inside is Mr. Wang Xian, the manager in charge of the True Martial arena on the first basement floor. You just need to explain your intentions to him."
After saying that, the waiter stood in place with a polite smile.
Fang Chen immediately understood—he wanted a tip.
He hadn’t even earned any money yet and already had to spend some. He sighed inwardly but knew he had to follow the local customs.
He thought, "At least this waiter has had a good attitude the whole time."
He reached into his pocket. He did have some cash on him. He considered how he had entered the Time Stop Domain earlier today and enjoyed years of free meals in there. That technically saved him the cost of a meal, which was exactly ten yuan. Fang Chen pulled a ten-yuan bill from his pocket and handed it over.
"Thanks for leading the way."
The waiter accepted it smoothly, his smile turning a bit more genuine. "I wish you a swift rise to the very top of the Geta Club."