RPAGF Chapter 151 UFC Press Conference
Chapter 151 UFC Press Conference
Chapter 151 UFC Press Conference
A rare light drizzle began to fall over Los Angeles.
This city of angels, which seemed to be forever bathed in sunlight, has had all its colors drained away.
At Forestrong Memorial Park, black umbrellas stretched out in a continuous line, overlapping with the distant city skyline.
Raindrops pattered down, tapping against the two brand-new marble tombstones.
On the tombstone, the black and white photos of Chen Bing and Fatty look exceptionally young, still carrying a hint of the arrogance of their early days in the underworld.
That vibrant life was forever frozen in that motel on Oscar night.
Bruce Lee stood in front of the tombstone without an umbrella.
The icy rain relentlessly lashed against his black clothes, trickling down his cheeks.
This seemingly invincible tough guy from the East walked step by step to the grave, looking at the two pairs of orphans and widows who were crying their hearts out.
Bruce Lee knelt on one knee and bowed deeply to the tombstone.
"Mr. Li! You mustn't!" Chen Bing's widow exclaimed, trying to help him up, but she slipped and fell to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.
Qin Han immediately stepped forward to help her up, took out a white paper envelope from his pocket, and handed it to the family member.
"Mrs. Chen, my master and I will never forget this blood debt." He stared intently at the two black and white photos, his eyes burning with rage: "The blood they shed, my master and I will make those beasts who have not yet been punished pay back a hundredfold."
Bruce Lee took another envelope and handed it to Fatty's mother: "Madam, please accept my condolences."
Without lengthy mourning, the two knelt in the mud and water, swearing a blood oath of eternal damnation.
As Qin Han looked at his master's forlorn figure and the compensation money soaked by the rain, memories of his past life flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern.
He once thought that he was familiar with the pulse of the times and that with his precognitive mind, he could navigate the world of fame and fortune in Hollywood with ease.
However, when the opponent is not one or two people, but a huge conglomerate and system, he finds that what he can do is far from enough.
To counter them, we must establish our own empire in America!
Here, civilization is merely a facade. When faced with a real threat, they won't talk about the law at the negotiating table; instead, they'll pull out their knives!
The somber farewell ceremony has finally come to an end.
Escorted by security personnel, the family members got into a black sedan and drove away.
Qin Han let Li Xiaolong get into the car first, then walked alone to a huge old oak tree by the cemetery and waved to Zhou Ruofei, who was still standing in front of the tombstone in the rain.
This former gangster, who used to be a ruthless troublemaker on the streets of Chinatown, has completely shed the flamboyant air he had when we first met after being trained by the veterans.
Having experienced the loss of his companion, his eyes were completely different.
"Master, is there anything I can help you with?"
Qin Han didn't speak. After a long silence, he reached out and patted Zhou Ruofei's soaked shoulder heavily.
"The matter involving Chen Bing and Fatty is my responsibility. I was too hasty; I shouldn't have sent you out on a mission after such a short training period."
"It's none of your business." Zhou Ruofei suddenly raised her head, gritting her teeth. "When you're in this business, you're already risking your life. I just regret not being there to personally chop those bastards to pieces!"
"You're out here in the game?" Qin Han's eyes suddenly turned cold. "If you hadn't trained for so long, would you still be thinking about those old ways of fighting for territory?"
Zhou Ruofei's breath hitched, and she clenched her fists, but dared not refute.
"Remember my words, otherwise, from this moment on, the Joey Gang of Chinatown is completely history."
He stared into Zhou Ruofei's bloodshot eyes: "You are now the armed force of 'Han's Security,' a real military force."
Zhou Ruofei straightened her back and roared in response, "Understood! We'll attack wherever Master points!"
"Very good. Wipe away your tears, now we have important business to attend to."
"Tomorrow at 10:00 AM, the UFC No Rules Fighting League press conference will be held at the Long Beach Port warehouse."
Qin Han took out a cigarette and lit it for his apprentice: "My friends at the Pentagon told me that Nixon has launched a major purge within the government, using our takedown of these Japanese as an excuse."
"However, as you've seen in the news lately, Nixon, for the sake of his base, will never completely eradicate the Japanese contingent. As long as any escapees remain, danger is ever-present."
"Don't forget, here, even a president sitting in a convertible can be assassinated in the street! Who can guarantee that those stubborn old men, pushed to the limit, won't resort to desperate measures?"
Zhou Ruofei broke out in a cold sweat: "Master, do you mean that tomorrow, the safety of our grandmaster will still not be guaranteed?"
""
Qin Han nodded and looked at Bruce Lee's car: "You know, your grandmaster had a tough temper. Before the Japanese were wiped out, I wanted to find someone to be his stunt double, but he refused, let alone now."
"So, you need to quickly make arrangements with Bruno. Tomorrow morning, you must take over all security within a 500-meter radius of the warehouse!"
The following morning, at Long Beach Port.
The torrential rain of last night stopped at dawn, and the California sun regained its hold on the Los Angeles sky.
The sky was cloudless, and the sunlight poured down on the shimmering sea. The huge seaside warehouse on the dock had been completely transformed from the inside out.
Yellow and black striped police tape was set up around the perimeter, and fully armed Han's security team members stood guard at each checkpoint with expressionless faces, exuding an aura that kept strangers at bay.
Inside the warehouse, industrial searchlights shone down from the steel-framed dome, illuminating the central area as bright as day.
Heavy metal rock music echoed through the empty warehouse, making people's eardrums buzz.
Almost all of America's top sports media outlets were mobilized.
Senior columnists from Sports Illustrated, the ABC broadcast team, and even tabloid reporters who only write about underground boxing, packed the media area with their cameras and microphones.
Everyone was whispering among themselves, their eyes filled with curiosity and inquiry.
"What on earth is Parker up to? Why did he choose this slaughterhouse-like venue for what was supposed to be a fighting league press conference?"
A reporter with a recording pen complained about the strong smell of engine oil in the warehouse.
"Who knows? Rumor has it that Bruce Lee will be there too. He's been a national hero ever since 'Fist of Fury' came out. Pike probably wants to use his fame to create a big buzz."
Just as the media were discussing the matter, a huge black curtain in the center of the warehouse slowly rose with the sound of winches.
In an instant, all the reporters gasped in unison.
What was presented to the American media was a colossal structure welded together with thick black steel pipes—the first octagonal cage in history.
This thing doesn't look like a ring prepared for sports competitions at all; it looks more like the Colosseum in ancient Rome!
"My God—what is this?" a photographer muttered to himself, frantically pressing the shutter button.
This visually striking and original design instantly ignited the latent violent and morbid curiosity in Americans.
"Snap! Snap! Snap!"
The flashbulbs were almost blinding, the shutters clicked incessantly, and all the lenses were aimed at this revolutionary iron cage.
Accompanied by a solo from an electric guitar, the door to the passageway on one side of the warehouse suddenly opened.
Bruce Lee, wearing a yellow jumpsuit designed by Chin Han, strode into the venue, escorted by two rows of Han's security guards.
There was no smile, no wave.
His angular face was filled with a suffocatingly cold and menacing aura.
The media section erupted in cheers! Reporters pushed forward like madmen, their microphones crossing the cordon and almost poking Bruce Lee in the face.
Bruce Lee didn't even glance at the media before heading straight for the octagon.
The security guard pulled open the heavy barbed wire gate, stepped inside, and slammed the gate shut with a click.
I walked to the center of the octagon and took the microphone from the security guard.
The sharp beam of sunlight swept across the entire area, and the once noisy warehouse miraculously fell silent.
"My name is Bruce Lee. I'm not standing here today to promote a movie, nor to play those games of make-believe with you wearing gloves."
"For a long time, what you've seen in combat has seemed to me like learning to swim on land!"
The entire audience erupted in uproar!
Bruce Lee paced back and forth in the octagon like a tiger about to be released from its cage.
"Formulas! Performances! Showy moves! Real combat has no referee's whistle, no round breaks, and shouldn't be bound by rules!"
"Just like that day on the beach in Santa Monica, my apprentice's battle with that Japanese man!"
"Therefore, the UFC (Unrestricted Martial Arts Federation) was born! Here, there are no sectarian divisions; boxing, wrestling, judo,..."
Jeet Kune Do — Any technique can be used. The only rule is that there are no rules!
"Put away your hypocrisy and prove who is truly the strongest in this iron cage with your own flesh and blood!"
The American media present were ignited by this unorthodox idea.
They could foresee the terrifying viewership frenzy that would ignite once the event was broadcast on television!
Bruce Lee took a deep breath, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
What he said next was his real purpose for today: to formally declare war on certain people!
"Some self-proclaimed righteous Japanese martial arts constantly talk about being invincible, but they only dare to hide in the shadows and do shady things like rats."
"Pathetic! You only dare to fight in the dark because you know very well that once you stand under the lights of this octagon and face real Jeet Kune Do, you won't even last a single round!"
"If anyone disagrees, I, Bruce Lee, will be waiting for you in this iron cage! Anytime, anywhere, I'll take you all on!"
Extremely domineering!
This direct insult, naming names, brought the atmosphere at the scene to a fever pitch!
Reporters screamed wildly, and flashbulbs filled the octagon with blinding white light.
Everyone's attention was firmly drawn to the yellow figure in the center of the octagon, who resembled a god of war.
No one noticed that the shutters of the control room on a rusty gantry crane outside the warehouse had been pried open.
A dark, gaping gun barrel, wrapped in a silencer, protruded from the gap.
The crosshairs of the scope pierced through the beam of light falling from the top of the warehouse and locked onto Bruce Lee's forehead.
The sniper lay prone on the oil-stained metal plate, his index finger already on the cold trigger. With just a slight pull, the arrogant Easterner would become a headless corpse.
Inside the warehouse, to the side and behind the media area.
Bruno wore a wrinkled vest and a name tag around his neck, disguising himself as an ordinary photography assistant.
He leaned slumped against a pile of cable boxes, but his sharp eyes, like radar, constantly scanned his surroundings.
Suddenly, Bruno's pupils contracted sharply.
High up in the warehouse, through an open gout window, a sharp glint of light flashed by under the blazing sun!
That's the reflection from the sniper scope!
Bruno's battle-hardened intuition made him instinctively shout, "Get down!!!"
Almost at the same second Bruno shouted, Bruce Lee felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end!
His body reacted faster than his brain could process it. Without searching for the source of the sound, Bruce Lee pushed off with both legs and fell flat on his face!
"Pfft—!" A sniper rifle bullet tore through the air.
It grazed Bruce Lee's hair as he fell, and struck the standing microphone in front of him!
"Bang!"
The destroyed microphone short-circuited instantly, and the entire sound system emitted an extremely piercing electrical scream!
"squeak!!!"
The reporter, who was frantically pressing the shutter button just a second ago, finally realized what had happened after seeing the flying sparks and the broken microphone.
"A gunman! He opened fire!!"
"God! Help!"
Extreme panic spread instantly. Reporters ran around like headless flies, chairs were overturned in droves, and a stampede seemed imminent.
"Everyone, quiet!" The employees of Han's Security were no longer the rookies they were a month ago. They fired two shots into the air, making everyone squat quietly in place.
The four men inside the octagon didn't hesitate to use their bodies to block Bruce Lee, while simultaneously raising their black briefcases.
"Swish, swish, swish!"
Several high-strength bulletproof shields instantly unfolded, forming an impenetrable defensive line, protecting Bruce Lee, who was getting up from the ground, in the middle, as they quickly retreated backstage.
Meanwhile, Zhou Ruofei, who was in charge of perimeter security, had already headed straight for the gantry crane.
He ripped off the suit jacket that was hindering his movement, drew his Glock from his waist with astonishing speed!
On the gantry crane, the sniper missed his first shot, but instead of trying to finish the job, he threw a pre-prepared rappelling rope from the control room, which was dozens of meters high.
In less than five seconds, his feet were firmly on the ground. He immediately threw the gun into the car parked next to him and slammed on the gas!
"Scum! Die!!!" Seeing that the other party was about to escape, Zhou Ruofei raised his gun with both hands and aimed it at the car that had just started moving.
Beyond the effective range of the pistol? Never mind!
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" Gunshots rang out incessantly as he emptied the magazine in a flash, heading towards the driver's seat!
A muffled "crack" of shattering glass came from afar, followed by a suppressed groan.
hit!
However, the assassin was extremely ruthless and still stepped on the gas, speeding towards the highway.
"Boom boom!!!"
Just then, a furious engine roar came from behind him!
A jet-black Dodge Challenger suddenly sped out from its hiding place behind the warehouse.
Through the car window, Zhou Ruofei saw the cold profile of the person in the driver's seat.
It's the Qin and Han dynasties!
He gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands, while in the passenger seat, veteran Sam skillfully cocked a Remington shotgun.
They had already made preparations, just in case!
The Dodge Challenger roared and, like a black panther on its hunt, chased after the fleeing sniper!