Chapter 169 - The top fighter

Translator: Lionwwang  Editor: Lionwwang

When I say this, I see a shred of fierce murder on Sand Tiger’s face at once! His eyes are staring at me, teeth are creaking. He is almost squeezing the words out of the gap between his teeth.

“You… It was you!”

His eyes look like swords, almost trying to pierce me. At the same time, his fists are tighting hard.

The scene suddenly becomes cold, and even the people sitting beside Sand Tiger can not help but quietly move their positions away from him.

My eyes are staring at him unavoidably. We two are just staring at each other fiercely.

Then suddenly, Papa 8 says carmly: “Sand Tiger, aren’t you gambling your life? Let’s gamble with you! If Little 5 loses, he will give you his life.” Papa 8 turns to look at me and says in a deep voice, “Little 5, dare you?”

“Sure!” I answer with no doubt.

“Good!” Papa 8’s eyes are flashing, and then glancing at Sand Tiger, “Sand Tiger, if Little 5 loses, his life is yours. At the same time, the share we give out this time, apart from all of your shares, we will take out one addition share more to give your family!” While saying this, he deliberatly pauses.

Sure enough, the leaders of all the local gangs here, no matter young or old, are all showing some covetous expression. Obviously, the cake this time is really big. Even the share of Papa 8 declarate of willing to give up is small, but the estimated value is quite impressive.

Papa 8 looks around at the changes of all the people’s expressions one by one, then looking at Sand Tiger and says: “Sand Tiger, if Little 5 loses, we will keep our promise, but what I want to ask is: If you lose, what will your family compensate us for except your life?”

Sand Tiger’s eyebrows are picking up, his eyes are flashing the determination. He’s shouting: “OK! Eight fingers, what do you want?”

I see a deep chill in Papa’s eyes, and my heart is beating hard!

Papa 8 has only eight fingers on his right hand, so his nickname is “Eight Fingers”, but in fact he has been unset with this nickname. Unless he laughs at himself occasionally. Otherwise, who dares to call him “Eight Fingers” in front of him, which is obviously mocking, is simply looking for own’s death.

In his present position, no matter who, has to call him “Papa 8” respectfully.

This Sand Tiger, every time calls Papa 8 is “Eight fingers”, I feel inside Papa 8’s heart is really wanting to kill him now.

“Sand Tiger!” Papa 8’s tone is still very gentle, but its cold feeling has been obvious. He’s slowly saying in a low voice: “I don’t want much… If you lose, your life will be gone. What’s more, your family must be removed from Vancouver ever since. From the day you die, all your men must quit Vancouver! Your men can’t appear in Vancouver. We don’t want any of your spheres of influence. We will give it to all the families here!” The deeper the voice of Papa 8 is, the more his eyes are twinkling like playing a fate song. He’s staring at Sand Tiger coldly, saying slowly word by word: “Sand Tiger, do you dare or not?”

Sand Tiger’s forehead is sweating, but he seems still very fierce. He hesitates a while, and eyes are showing the decisive color. He says: “OK! Eight fingers, just listen to you! If I lose, my life is yours, our family will also be dissolved! If you lose, you’ll have to give our family an extra share of the profits!”

All the gang leaders around us have complicated looks in their eyes. It seems that not everyone is worrying about Sand Tiger. Although from the standpoint they should be on the same side with Sand Tiger, but this kind of gambling, it seems that winning or losing is no harm to them at all.

If Sand Tiger wins, it would be a good thing for the rest of the local gangs. But if he dies, they will divide up the sphere of influence of Sand Tiger’s family. Papa 8’s promises on such occasions will certainly not be gone back. In this way, whether win or lose, the gambling will be of a great benefit to them. Who would object to such a thing?

Inside my heart is sneering: no wonder these local gangs are so numerous that they have been beaten down by Vietnamese, Iranian and Indian gangs for so many years. These guys are just scattered sands! Otherwise, if they can work together. For so many years, how can they only have such little strengths?

Now, Sand Tiger is clearly in the same camp with them, but when they see him is gambling the life against us, no one stands up. Looking at their eyes, instead, they seem to be calculating how much benefits they can get in this gambling, whether win or lose.

No wonder while Papa 8 was ranging the cpmpetitors last time, from Vietnamese, to Indians, to Iranians, and then to these local gangs, He would say that these local gangs not to worry about.

On the spot, Papa 8 calls Tiger into the meeting room and prepares a life and death contract in front of everyone. In fact, this contract can not be recognized by law at all. But there are very different rules in the underworld. With this contract, no matter who wins or loses in the gambling, neither side can pursue revenge afterwards.

In front of everyone, Sand Tiger and I are hated staring at each other, sign the contract quickly and press the fingerprints.

Our side, of course, is Papa 8 as the witness. It’s interesting that none of them is willing to stand up as Sand Tiger’s witness. It seems that these guys are wise enough to defend themselves and are unwilling to stand on Sand Tiger side to against us in public.

In the end, these guys make a round of recommendation to nominate two elders of “high moral standing”. But look at the expressions of these two elder men, they seem also to be reluctance.

Papa 8’s eyes are glimming silently with a hint of mockery. I do not speak, just press my fingerprints and step back to his behind.

It should be said that this negotiation has been a success. At least most of the local gangs have been frightened by the large-scale conflicts before. They are basically soft. No one dares to jump out except Sand Tiger.

Papa 8 sends them out in person. I see that inside the car which is parking on the street corner from a distance, the police are taking pictures. Papa 8 sees them too, but he doesn’t care at all, just smiling.

“Papa 8, these cops…” I say.

“Just leave them alone. They are umimportant small fishes.” He says in calm.

Back to the office, Papa is sitting down on his chair. He does not speak, not let me sit down either, but looking at me deeply. After a while, he says slowly: “Little 5, you’re a little too impulsive today.”

I look at him, but I can not tell whether he is angry or happy in his tone, so I just ask calmly: “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You’re a little impulsive. However, in my opinion, your response is also good. At least in some cases, impulse is a testament to courage.” He’s smiling, then taking out a pipe slowly, adds some tobacco, lights it, takes a deep puff. He is using his right hand, with only three fingers pinching the handle of the cigarette end, squinting at me, says lightly, “You dare to stand up to protect our family, which is good. But do you really know Sand Tiger? Are you sure to kill him?”

I think about it and answer: “I don’t know.”

“Oh? You don’t know?”

“I really don’t know.” I nod, “He should be pretty good at fight. I haven’t fought with him and I don’t know whether I can win him. But I only know one thing that I have to stand up for such a scene today. Otherwise, it would make them look down on us.”

“Very good!” He’s sighing, eyes are somewhat complicate. After sighing, he slowly says, “When we were landing in North America, we fought out a bloodline without afraid of death and daring to fight. Those days, the local gangs had so many people and resources, but dared not to fight with the Vietnamese gangs. Each of them was a shrinking tortoise. But we are not afraid, no one thought could or not. We just fought first and then talking later! Even if we were hurt to be bleeding, we should let opponent know how tough we are!”

After that, Papa 8 is looking at me and sighing: “Little 5, you’re good, you’re really good…”

But don’t know why, I feel his tone is deep, even with the feeling of helpless and regretful.

“What’s this?”

The next day, I’m called out of the room by Tiger early in the morning. He takes me to a room behind the garage. It’s a very simple conference room with a broken table. There’s an old big TV and a DVD player on the table.

Tiger lets me sit down, holding his arms and looking at me: “Little 5, do you know Sand Tiger’s strength?”

“I’m not sure. It should be pretty good!” I’m honest.

Tiger is sighing: “Sand Tiger is the leader of their family. Sand Snake, the one you killed is his cousin. The relationships between them are very good! So, he wants to revenge. But do you know Sand Tiger’s past?”

His expression is grave and his tone is slow: “Their family is not the most powerful in the local gangs. But it is generally accepted that Sand Tiger is a top fighter!”

A top fighter?

My heart is beating hard and my eyes are narrowing.

“Canada’s local gangs have an old tradition of holding an internal fight competing at the beginning of each year, that is, the gangs will choose their best fighters to fight against each other.” Tiger says slowly, “The top fighter is a honor.”

“Sand Tiger has dominated the stage four times and won the title of the top fighter.” Tiger says this sentence in a dignified tone. He’s staring at me, “Little 5, I know you are very good at fight. But I still think that if you two fight fairly, you are more than 90 percent likely to be defeated.”