Chapter 42: Star Making
Chapter 42: Chapter 42: Star Making
(Author’s Note: I personally felt that spending two thousand words introducing a bunch of lackeys in the original Chapter 41, "Tianlang," was a waste of everyone’s data, so I deleted it outright. The subsequent Chapter 42, "The Meeting," has been bumped up to take its place. Any Celestial Reading Emperors who feel the plot doesn’t quite connect might want to go back and skim Chapter 41.)
Fang Chen nodded and sat down as instructed. The lounge area was furnished with an expensive-looking set of leather sofas in a one-plus-one-plus-four configuration. He chose one of the single-seaters.
The sofa was spacious enough that the female receptionist took the opportunity to sit beside him. She picked up a piece of watermelon from the fruit platter and fed it to him.
"A hostess? How interesting," Fang Chen thought. Seeming quite accustomed to this, he opened his mouth, took the watermelon, and swallowed it.
His gaze then casually swept across the room. On the opposite single-seater sat a man playing a drinking game with the female receptionist beside him. The man wore a tight black tank top and had short, curly brown hair. He looked to be about the same age as Fang Chen. A large, brightly colored, and intricately lined tattoo covered his arm. The pattern snaked along the contours of his muscles, seamlessly connecting with the tattoo on his torso to form the shape of a dragon.
The man seemed to notice Fang Chen’s gaze. He patted his female companion’s hand, signaling her to pause the game, and looked up to meet Fang Chen’s eyes. His lips curled into a grin. "I know you."
Fang Chen had also seen this man in the Geta Club’s files. He was a fighter with a thirty-thousand-yuan price tag. His alias was quite unique: Little Cai Long.
"Oh? I am Feng Yuxiu. I’ve only been here for two days, so I hope you’ll look after me, Long," Fang Chen stated his alias, his tone mild.
Little Cai Long shook his head, leaning forward slightly and lowering his voice. "No, I mean I *really* know you! You’re..." He craned his neck, his eyes seeking confirmation. "Daoxiang’s number one Martial Artist, Chen, right? Right?"
Fang Chen’s heart skipped a beat, though outwardly he only raised an eyebrow.
This was code! Jinchuan Third University was located on Daoxiang Road, and the man had explicitly used the name "Chen." He clearly knew Fang Chen’s true identity and background! Yet, as Fang Chen scoured his memories, he drew a blank on this person.
Seeing Fang Chen’s reaction, Little Cai Long chuckled and introduced himself. "Heh, don’t be nervous. My real name is Cai Long. I’ve loved dragons since I was a kid and dreamed of becoming a human as powerful as the Dragon Race. Unfortunately, my family said my personality wasn’t domineering enough and gave me the nickname ’Little Cai Long.’ I thought it was pretty cute, so I just used it as my fighter alias.
"I’m in a similar boat as you," he added. "They call me Qi Ping’s number one Martial Artist."
Fang Chen instantly understood. Qiping Road was exactly where Jinchuan First University was located! So this guy was a student from Jinchuan First University—another university-student Martial Artist!
At this moment, Fang Chen held out his right hand. The female receptionist beside him caught on quickly and timely handed him a glass of iced beer.
Fang Chen took it and gestured toward Cai Long. "A pleasure to meet you. You’re quite impressive, Cai, already boasting a thirty-thousand-yuan value."
Cai Long also picked up his glass to return the toast, his tone casual. "I just arrived at this club a month earlier than you and fought a few more matches. It’s nothing special."
The two clinked glasses and each took a sip.
After a brief chat about the Geta Club and their matches, Fang Chen couldn’t help but steer the conversation to the main point. "Do you know why President Zhao specifically called us here today, Cai?"
Cai Long shrugged, looking nonchalant. "No idea. But looking at this reception, it shouldn’t be anything bad. Otherwise, he could have just had his subordinates pass on a message or used some forceful methods. There’d be no need to be so polite."
"True," Fang Chen agreed with a nod.
KNOCK KNOCK. The private room door was tapped again, and another pair of receptionists, a man and a woman, stepped up to open it. Two more fighters—also a man and a woman—walked in.
The woman wore an eye-catching red leather jacket paired with white trousers, casually playing with a slender leather whip in her hands. The man was tall and thin, his demeanor calm, with a single braid hanging down his back. Under the guidance of the receptionists, the two sat on the long sofa.
Fang Chen recognized them from the club’s files. The woman’s alias was Hong, and the man’s was Monk. Both were thirty-thousand-yuan fighters who currently maintained undefeated records.
Hong seemed to have an extroverted personality. The moment she sat down, it was as if she had returned to her own home. Once she opened her mouth, she became an absolute chatterbox, talking about everything under the sun—from her thoughts on the recent matches to the club’s new bartender. Her voice was crisp and her words flew out at a rapid pace.
In just a short while, whether she was parched from all the talking or simply loved to drink, she had already downed two bottles of beer on her own and was reaching out to open a third.
Right as she popped off the cap of the third beer bottle with a sharp POP, the inner wooden door swung open. A slightly plump middle-aged man wearing a business shirt walked out first. He turned back and smiled at the room inside. "President Zhao, I’ll leave you to your business then. We can discuss the details of our collaboration another day. I’ll take my leave now."
A steady male voice drifted from inside. "Alright, I won’t see you out. Take care, President Li."
Subsequently, a figure appeared in the doorway. The man looked to be in his early forties and kept himself in excellent shape. While his face couldn’t exactly be called handsome, his features were sharp and hard-edged, with a strong, square jaw. Needless to say, this was the owner of the Geta Club—Zhao Tianxiong, President Zhao.
Without needing any instructions, the four receptionists quietly exited the room and gently closed the door behind them. Only Zhao Tianxiong and the four young fighters remained in the spacious private room.
Wearing an unfathomable smile, Zhao Tianxiong was the first to raise the wine glass in front of him. "Everyone, I apologize for keeping you waiting."
Seeing this, the others also raised their glasses in response.
Hong immediately chimed in, her voice carrying a coquettish tone. "Oh, President Zhao, you’re too polite. We only just arrived ourselves! Having the opportunity to be summoned by you makes waiting a little longer our absolute honor! Every time I come here, it feels so grand and comfortable!"
Zhao Tianxiong chuckled and pointed at her. "Haha, Hong, your mouth is as sweet as ever."
Hong shot him a flirtatious wink. "Hmph, President Zhao, my mouth isn’t the only sweet thing about me..."
Zhao Tianxiong was clearly accustomed to her style. He smiled, shook his head, and addressed the other three. "Don’t mind her, everyone. Hong just likes to make harmless jokes."
Changing the subject, he held his glass and slowly walked over to Fang Chen first. "Feng Yuxiu, right?" His gaze landed on Fang Chen, carrying an indescribable meaning.
"Yes," Fang Chen replied calmly, meeting his gaze.
The curve of Zhao Tianxiong’s lips widened slightly. "Heh, young man, you’ve cost me quite a bit of money... forty million."
A flash of confusion crossed Fang Chen’s eyes.
"Haha!" Zhao Tianxiong laughed, as if recounting an amusing anecdote. "Don’t be nervous, it’s a minor matter.
"During your match with Iron Hand last time, I made a bet with a friend. I bet on Iron Hand to win, and she bet on you. In the end, you made me lose forty million.
"But that’s all in the past," he continued, swirling the wine in his glass, his tone relaxed. "On the gambling table, one must accept defeat gracefully."
Fang Chen suddenly understood. So that was what happened.
Zhao Tianxiong didn’t say anything more to him and turned to face the others. "I called the four of you here today because there is a major event. A good thing. A great thing! It will be beneficial to you, beneficial to the Geta Club, and a visual feast for the spectators!"
Cai Long raised an eyebrow, asking curiously, "President Zhao, what exactly is this good thing?"
Zhao Tianxiong spoke slowly. "Simply put, we’ve carefully evaluated all of your recent matches. Among the club’s new generation of fighters, you four have the most highly entertaining fighting styles and relatively comprehensive techniques without any obvious shortcomings.
"I’ll keep it brief. The club intends to pool its resources and groom the four of you to become the new faces of Geta to attract more spectators and bets.
"This is what we call the Star-Building Project."