CHAPTER 931: CHAPTER 931: WE’RE BOTH THE SAME

Beld Governor’s Mansion Resort Hotel is located along the river valley, built by the mountains and water.

The hotel’s scenery is picturesque; it used to be the residence of a certain governor of Myanmar, attracting countless guests each year.

Besides, the biggest highlight is the presence of Myanmar’s largest fight club within the hotel.

Li Qiao got out of the car in front of the hotel, and the greeter, dressed in traditional attire, welcomed her with a smile.

Wei Ang wasn’t proficient in Burmese; he could only manage simple exchanges, clumsily instructing the greeter with a sentence full of language errors.

Li Qiao walked up unhurriedly, casually throwing out two words: "Fight club."

The greeter immediately turned sideways, made an inviting gesture with his arm, and led the way ahead.

Wei Ang scratched his head, "Madam, I’ve embarrassed myself, haha."

Li Qiao glanced at him, nonchalantly asking, "You haven’t learned Burmese?"

"No," Wei Ang replied without suspicion, explaining while walking, "I know a few common languages, but I haven’t encountered Burmese."

Li Qiao raised an eyebrow slightly, "Then who translates for Dad?"

Upon hearing this, Wei Ang chuckled awkwardly, "The Patriarch is fluent in Burmese, doesn’t need a translator, I can’t even hear an accent."

Li Qiao understood, a subtle, intriguing smile playing at her lips as she strolled along the corridor of the valley villa.

...

The indoor fight club is located at the end of the hotel’s leisure area.

The vast flat-roofed venue covers a large area, with well-equipped surrounding facilities for resting.

There weren’t many people in the fight club; a few men in training gear stood at the entrance, occasionally glancing inside, cautiously discussing something.

As Li Qiao drew near, she clearly heard what they were discussing.

"Do those two have some deep grudge?"

"Doesn’t seem like it to me, maybe they’re just sparring."

The man standing on the outermost side took a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head with feigned profundity, "I bet they’re love rivals."

Li Qiao silently passed by them, her expression slightly cool.

Wei Ang had just opened the door of the fight club when someone behind them muttered, "If they’re truly love rivals, that’s terrifying; they even destroyed the independent boxing room, such a vendetta!"

Li Qiao’s pace seemed neither rushed nor slow, but it quickened a bit.

He Chen’s boxing power value was nearing two thousand; if he really went all out, Shang Yu...

The record for the highest boxing power value in the Third Halls’ evaluation was set by He Chen.

As for Shang Yu’s boxing power value, she wasn’t deeply impressed, maybe she hadn’t asked.

In the boxing room, a few trainees were absentmindedly hitting sandbags, while coaches and other staff gathered at the door of a private boxing room in the back, with some paying and others collecting money.

They seemed to be betting.

Li Qiao walked over calmly, and while passing the first boxing room, she glanced casually, her gaze freezing.

The human target dummy was broken, the hanging sandbag shattered, the floor-standing speed ball split in two, protective gear foam and other fighting equipment were scattered all over the floor.

It could be described as disastrous.

And from the adjoining boxing room, there was still a faint sound of heavy objects falling.

They had destroyed the first boxing room and were now wrecking the second.

At this moment, two men dressed as bodyguards came out from around the corner of the boxing room; they hurried to Li Qiao and Wei Ang, nodding, "Madam, Guard Team, the Eldest Young Master and Brother Chen are still fighting."

Wei Ang looked at Li Qiao’s face and then turned to ask, "Are they injured?"

The bodyguard, understanding the concern, replied, "No blood has been seen so far."

Li Qiao pressed her lips, looking quietly at the tightly closed door of the boxing room, "Open the door."

The bodyguards stood still, and Wei Ang swallowed, tentatively suggesting, "Madam, perhaps... we should wait a bit."

When the Eldest Young Master starts fighting, anyone steps in dies.

They had already destroyed the boxing room, let alone their fragile bodies, which could not withstand a beating, and recklessly going in was akin to offering oneself up for slaughter.

Li Qiao said nothing, slowly walking to the boxing room door, lifting her sharp chin slightly, "Kick it open."

The bodyguards and Wei Ang: "..."

Seeing Li Qiao’s indifferent demeanor, Wei Ang dared not delay, adopting a look of resignation as he approached the door, gathered strength, and kicked it, but the door didn’t budge.

Wei Ang kicked three more times before the lock finally gave way; the wooden door, rebounding from the impact on the wall behind it, was halted by Li Qiao’s toe as it swung back.

The sounds of combat persisted, and the sounds of bare-knuckle fighting never ceased.

Among them, He Chen’s mocking voice interjected, "Shang Shaoyan, you’ve regressed."

As Li Qiao looked up, a gray blur rushed toward her; it was a sandbag being knocked away.

"Madam!"

Wei Ang was thoroughly frightened; disregarding everything else, he dashed forward to block Li Qiao.

Simultaneously, the sandbag struck his face, sending fine sand flying everywhere.

By inertia, Wei Ang clung to the sandbag, stumbling backward, hitting the wall, and sliding dizzily down to the floor.

Whether it hurt was secondary; he mainly felt dizzy, like the world was spinning.

Still engaged in combat, Shang Yu and He Chen were so engrossed they overlooked the sudden interruption at the door.

It wasn’t until they heard Wei Ang’s exclamation that Shang Yu, breathing heavily, paused, a trace of tension flashing in his eyes, "Qiaoqiao!"

This boxing room, too, hadn’t escaped being wrecked.

At this moment, Li Qiao was standing a few steps away from Wei Ang, her eyes calmly regarding him, as if to say: unnecessary.

When the sandbag came flying, she had already sidestepped it.

If it weren’t for Wei Ang, she wouldn’t have been covered in fine sand.

Meanwhile, Shang Yu hurried to Li Qiao, his pupils contracting, his breath uneven, "Are you alright?"

Li Qiao shifted her gaze back, looking up at the man’s face covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

His short hair was slightly damp, dangling chaotically above his brow bone, his eyes slightly red as if from prolonged exertion.

Looking down, his shirt was full of creases, three buttons undone at the chest, revealing clear bruises on his exposed skin.

Yet, his handsome face remained unmarred, without unsightly scars.

Li Qiao snapped back to her senses, touching the bruises on his chest, "Does it hurt?"

Shang Yu, his palms trembling slightly, brushed the sand off her shoulder, his voice a bit hoarse and indistinct, "Why did you come over suddenly?"

Li Qiao glanced back at He Chen, not answering but asking instead, "Who won?"

As soon as the words fell, He Chen, bending over and propped against his knees, collapsed onto a foam mat with a thud.

Shang Yu’s muscles were still in a state of excitement, and he glanced sideways at He Chen, tilting his lips, "You’ve regressed."

He Chen, his leg bent in front of him, his forearm resting on his knee, rasped back with a laugh, "We’re both the same, neither of us can say anything about the other."

Although Shang Yu stood as steady as a rock, Li Qiao could still perceive his trembling body, likely from overpowering leading to muscle spasms.

Li Qiao glanced around, meeting Shang Yu’s eyes once more, her lips curling into a gentle smile, "Tired?"

The man softly exhaled, his dark eyes fixed unwaveringly on her features.