Hok leaned toward Seh. “Do you want me to tell you what I see?”
“Don't bother,” Seh replied. “Just tell me who is going to win.”
“The Siamese Assassin,” Hok said.
“What?” Charles said. “Are you crazy? The other man is huge!”
Hok shook her head. “That doesn't matter.”
“Huh?” Charles said. “What does matter?”
“See the shiny line running down each of the Assassin's shins?” Hok said. “All the hair has been worn off his legs in those spots.”
“So?” Charles said.
“You have to kick things like trees for years for that to happen,” Hok said, “and you have to kick them hard. Also, look how battered and bruised his elbows are. He uses them a lot. He's even gone through the trouble of wrapping his hands with rope. I've never seen that done before, but I'll bet it protects and strengthens his hands while delivering maximum damage to his opponent.”
“Rope on the hands?” Seh said. “Ouch.”
“I see what you mean now,” Charles said. “The Mauler is going to lose bad. He doesn't look like he practices at all.”
“That's not entirely true,” Hok said. “Look at the Mauler's ears. See how they look both puffy and rock-hard at the same time? Sort of like the vegetable hua ye cat—cauliflower? That comes from years of having your head banged against the ground. The Mauler is a wrestler.”
“Wow,” Charles said. “That's amazing. So, you still think the Assassin will win?”
Hok nodded. “It looks to me like he practices more.”
A large gong sounded from somewhere near the betting table, and Hok watched the Siamese Assassin spring immediately into action. He raced toward the Mauler at full speed, leaping high into the air with a flying-knee attack.
The Mauler stood his ground and swatted the Assassin out of the air like he would a fruit fly.
The Siamese Assassin crashed to the ground.
The crowd roared with laughter, and Charles turned to Hok. “Are you sure about your choice?”
“Just watch,” Hok replied.
Seemingly unfazed, the Assassin jumped to his feet and raised his roped hands in front of his face. He began to taunt the Mauler in a foreign language.
The Mauler scowled and took two lumbering steps toward the Assassin, crouching low as though he were going to attempt a wrestling takedown.
In the blink of an eye, the Assassin shot forward and delivered a vicious low kick with his shin to a band of particularly sensitive sinews on the outside of the Mauler's lead leg, just above the knee.
CRACK!
Hok felt the brutal impact just as much as she heard it. The crowd gasped, and the Mauler howled in pain.
“Somebody is going to feel that in the morning,” Seh said.
Hok shook her head and watched as the Mauler lifted his damaged leg. As soon as he did, the Assassin shot forward a second time, repeating the technique on the Mauler's other leg.
CRRRRACK!
The second brutal kick echoed deep inside the pit and the crowd cringed as one, including Hok.
“Owwww,” Charles said, rubbing his legs.
The Mauler teetered, and Hok watched the Siamese Assassin step in close, thrusting both rope-bound hands up toward the Mauler's towering head. Hok waited for the Assassin's fists to collide with the Mauler's face, but that didn't happen. Instead, the Assassin wrapped his hands around the back of the Mauler's head and pulled his opponent's face straight down while jumping up and thrusting his knee skyward. The Assassin's knee collided squarely with the Mauler's nose.
CRUNCH!
The sound filled the fight club, and the Mauler wilted in an awkward heap, unconscious.
The crowd went wild.
Several crowd members began to jump up and down, waving their wager sticks high over their heads, while others threw their wager sticks to the floor in disgust.
Ignoring the crowd, the Siamese Assassin dropped to his knees in front of his fallen opponent and bowed three times. Hok realized it was a sign of respect.
The pit door opened and the Assassin stood. Hok watched him walk out through the doorway. She noticed that he appeared to be walking into a dimly lit tunnel. He passed two men with qiangs who were obviously guards, and continued on until Hok couldn't see him anymore.
Hok continued to stare through the open doorway and saw a lone man approach from the depths of the tunnel. He wore a stained robe, long gloves, and a leper's shroud. The man strolled confidently into the pit without even acknowledging the guards and walked over to the Mongolian Mauler. He wasn't a big man, but he easily hoisted the large unconscious fighter over one shoulder and carried the Mauler back into the tunnel.
Hok realized that he was a one-man clean-up crew. He was probably dressed in that outfit to protect himself against blood, germs, and anything else that might rub off on him while he did his dirty work. Hok shivered. What a horrible job.