48 Hours a Day

The alley behind the Owl Tavern is lively every night.

Workers in the vicinity, leisurely people like to come here after work, there is no jittery microblogging, no keyboardman in this era, limited entertainment activities, especially for the lower classes of these societies, they can't play golf like those gentlemen and ladies, or go to prom, theater of those noble things they don't understand.

In contrast, boxing, a sport of pure men, is more popular with them.

Muscle and muscle collisions, blood and sweat fly, which belong to men's romance, and it's even more exciting if you press a little more money.

It wasn't just these workers, even the wealthy loved the sport, but there were some guys in the crowd with canes and hats, waving the pound in their hands.

The crowd is surrounded by a circle that automatically empties the middle position and leaves it to the two protagonists tonight.

One of them was a strong man working at the shipyard, with muscles raised on his arms and a hairy body on his chest like a sweater, Iron Anchor Queen, a name derived from a tattoo on his right arm. He was a regular visitor in the underground boxing ring, with 13 wins and 6 losses in the last three months, and several of them were lost sparingly.

And his opponent tonight is a very raw guy, the Orientals are not often seen in London, especially an Orientalist who speaks fluent English, who calls himself a traveler, comes from Youwo, probably the equivalent of a British country gentleman, and his hands don't look like any heavy-duty guy, plus his pair is quite healthy, but far from a strong body, not many people look after him.

“What the hell is this? The boss can't find a decent fighter anymore? ”

“I bet he won't last ten rounds on Iron Anchor's hands, and this poor guy will be taken to the hospital. ”

“Ten rounds? I don't think five rounds is going to work. This guy should have begged for forgiveness on his knees from the start. ”

“In that case, I don't think the boxer will get the money...”

“It's more realistic to find a way to save one's own life than to make money. ”

The crowd is arguing, and the odds comparison between the two sides is realistic.

Zhang Heng's odds have risen to one to seven, while the iron anchor on the other side is only one to one point nine, in other words, a pound on the iron anchor can only earn less than two shillings, even so, the vast majority of people have pressed the iron anchor, after all, don't give away money for nothing.

Unfortunately, a small street boxer like this also has limited strength, with a £5 per capita cap, and avoids the fact that someone buys a fighter to manipulate the game covertly, otherwise winning is a good way to make money.

For the vast majority of workers, however, five pounds is already a sizeable sum, and it is rare to encounter this risk-free opportunity to earn money, which was borrowed everywhere before the fight began.

And what happened then seemed to prove what people saw.

The iron anchor is still the iron anchor. Despite the faults of clumsy footsteps and not fast enough punching, each punch is powerful enough, quite a bit of a force to reduce the feeling of ten. In his fierce offensive, the poor Oriental man across the street only had to keep hiding, even though he still suffered a few punches, like a broken sack.

Until now, he has not even had a chance to do it, and it has been completely suppressed.

“Kill him!!! Iron Anchor, tear him apart! Men don't need this kind of sissy in sports! ”

“Show him what an Englishman is! ”

The crowd's cheer also seemed to inject new strength into Iron Anchor's body. Even the otherwise clumsy movement became lighter. Zhang Heng was punched twice more, and it didn't look good.

The crowd suddenly burst out another cheer. Holmes next to him always wanted to laugh. Zhang Heng had been beaten the whole time so far. He didn't look like he could win anyway, but only those who knew how to walk could see it. Zhang Hengzheng's punches didn't really hurt much.

The speed of the iron anchor was indeed slow, Zhang Heng had set his arm before his fist fell and protected himself from the point of view, so he did fall downwind on the scene, but only backwards on the scene.

Zhang Heng's breath hasn't changed much from beginning to end, and his footsteps haven't changed at all. The iron anchor, who is objectively dominating the upper wind, has begun to breathe heavily - insufficient strength, which is also the common disease of all powerful fighters.

Especially before he hit another wave in the audience's boom, at the expense of slowing down after the adrenaline peak had passed.

It's almost time to fight back.

Holmes thought, then saw Zhang Hengyu also moved. This time in the face of the fist of the iron anchor, Zhang Hengyu did not choose to recruit anymore. Instead, he took half a step forward, his head slightly avoided this punch. At this time, the eyes of the iron anchor flashed with panic. As a boxer, of course, he knew how bad his situation was. He saved this punch, but it was impossible to retrieve it halfway.

At the same time, his chest was wide open, and being close at that time did not bode well.

But soon his mind was fixed again, what if he was close to him? From the previous confrontation between the two, the strength of each other was limited. Iron Anchor held the idea of "taking a punch first, but maybe he could use this opportunity to grab each other, and then take the opportunity to end this long overdue game”, and regained his confidence.

“Underestimating opponents is not a good habit.” Holmes touched his chin and twitched.

Then Zhang Heng's punch hit the cheek of the iron anchor.

This punch is much more painful than expected. One of the teeth of the iron anchor was hit directly, with blood beads, and flew halfway into the air, but the latter finally withstood the punch with a strong body and did not fall, so the plot should not be too different from the previous one.

Then it's his turn to fight back.

Iron Anchor thought that the other hand had also shaken his fist, so long as this boxing hit Zhang Heng's head, he was confident to dry this Oriental directly on the ground.

But before he could swing his hand out, he got another punch in the right cheek.

So soon? The iron anchor was directly masked by this punch, and the strength that it took me a thousand miles to accumulate.

However, this was not the end, immediately followed by Zhang Heng hitting his ears with his palm. The earstone holding the balance of the body in the semi-regular tube was stimulated, and the iron anchor immediately poured away as if he were drunk.

Now he doesn't say he's fighting back, even walking is shaking, and his head is a slurry.

Zhang Heng Nature will not let go of this opportunity. Finally, he ended this long but dangerous battle with a hook.

The large body of the iron anchor should fall on the ground.

At this moment, all the cheers and screams disappeared, the surrounding audience seemed to have been suddenly strangled and caught in a strange silence, those big mouths, waving handkerchiefs, all rated in the middle of the air, people with their eyes open, there seemed to be some unacceptable sudden reversal in front of them.

I don't understand why the iron anchor that has always occupied the upper wind is finally knocked down by someone so neatly.