C6 Who Is the Sick Man of Asia?

Thanks to the introduction of New York City Council members, Ethan signed a $80 million deal without a hitch.

At the celebration banquet, Yamada grew cocky, his words slurred with alcohol. "Japan is a land of milk and honey, a cradle of genius..."

Ethan was surprised at how fluent Yamada was in English—he even knew the idiom a land of milk and honey.

"We Japanese have wealth, and we play excellent football. Your American team is worthless, utterly worthless!"

Ethan’s jaw tightened at the Japanese man’s arrogance. Still, he couldn’t argue—American football’s performance in international tournaments was abysmal. How could a nation of 330 million fail to field eleven decent players? Pathetic losers, he thought. But he would not stand for this insult. His eyes drifted to Dana, and a plan formed in his mind.

"Mr. Yamada, I hear Japan is world-famous for more than football—karate and judo, too. They originated in your country, after all. I wonder how American kickboxing stacks up against them."

"Need you ask?" Yamada scoffed. "How could the Sick Man of Asia stand against Japanese warriors? My assistant is a 5th Dan Karate master. If you dare, let them fight—for the fun of the feast." He burst into raucous laughter.

The guests stared at Ethan like he was a madman. Was he asking for humiliation? The Chinese attendees were all middle-aged entrepreneurs and government civil servants in their forties and fifties. Only Ethan and his beautiful young secretary were in their prime. What a freak.

Ethan stood up, calm and confident. "Since everyone is in such high spirits, why not make a bet?"

Yamada stared at him in surprise, then glanced around the room. The crowd was old, only two young people—one man, one woman. He noticed Mayor Mayo’s terrified expression, and excitement surged through him.

"Very well. We’ve had a pleasant cooperation today—let’s add a little entertainment... Hahaha. The bet is a $50 million order. If you lose, you supply us with $50 million worth of goods for free. If we lose, we’ll increase the order by $50 million and pay double the factory price. Do you dare, Mr. Ethan?" Yamada had no doubts. His assistant Akagi was a 5th Dan Karate master, and he himself was a former 75kg Karate champion. This was the perfect chance to swindle the foolish Chinese man.

"Now that’s interesting." Ethan shrugged. "Dana, you and Akagi have a little match."

Yamada’s face turned purple with rage. "Mr. Ethan, no tricks! Don’t think we’ll concede just because you send a woman. Japan will not back down in the face of honor—you will regret this."

"We Chinese have an old saying: A gentleman’s word is as good as his bond. Very well—let the fight begin."

Dana faced off against Akagi, torn between amusement and exasperation. She was a decorated NYPD detective, and now she was being used by Ethan to fight an underground match. But she had no choice but to step up—she’d likely face disciplinary action back at the precinct for this.

Mayor Mayo wanted to strangle Ethan. He’d ruined a perfect deal with his recklessness. Young people were always so hot-headed. The mayor had spent years walking on eggshells, never making a mistake (and if he did, someone else always took the fall).

Akagi stared at the petite woman in front of him, almost pitying her. A proud Karate master, reduced to fighting a little girl like it was a game. He hated Ethan for this, wishing he could beat the Chinese man’s face to a pulp.

Akagi stepped forward and threw a lazy, symbolic punch. "Little girl, surrender. This is no game for you."

Dana had been waiting for an opening. When she saw his weak, sluggish strike, joy bloomed in her chest. She dodged with effortless grace, spun, and delivered a lightning-fast side kick to Akagi’s head. He crumpled to the ground, motionless.

The room fell silent. Mayor Mayo gaped. Yamada froze...

"Bravo! Hahaha, brilliant!" Ethan laughed, turning to Yamada. "Mr. Yamada, you lose. Thank you for the order."

Yamada was dumbfounded with anger. The Chinese man was too cunning—he must have been afraid of death and hired a female bodyguard. And he’d exploited Yamada and Akagi’s arrogance to win $50 million with ease.

Staring at Akagi, who lay on the floor like a dead dog, Yamada’s eyes lit up with a new idea.

"Truly a heroine—a woman’s worth equals a man’s!" he said, quoting a Chinese proverb. "You win, Mr. Ethan. We have another old saying: Pawn meets pawn, chariot meets chariot. Good things come in pairs. Let’s have another match for the feast. The bet: a $100 million annual order for three years. Surely you won’t back down now, Mr. Ethan? Is it true what they say—American men are weak, and women rule?" He roared with laughter.

Ethan’s confidence vanished. Yamada would not challenge him so openly without absolute certainty of victory. Ethan had never fought a real fight in his life—his only "battle" at Rikers had been a one-sided beating.

He stared around the room, helpless. He was Chinese...

Life is sometimes meaningless, and people create despair in their boredom. Human life is a tragedy: some live for their parents, some for their children; some for food, some for wealth...

Ethan had lived 26 years and never known why. He only knew he wanted a life of excitement, and sometimes you had to do the impossible. Ethan didn’t consider himself patriotic—sometimes he even looked down on his own people—but he knew that if his country lost its honor, being Chinese would mean nothing.

Ethan stood calmly opposite Yamada. He had no choice (or so he thought; if he backed down now, he’d never be able to live with himself).

Mayor Mayo barely recognized the young man in front of him. He could be pitifully weak, yet possess courage no ordinary man could match. Watching Ethan step forward like a man walking to his death, the mayor felt a strange stirring—maybe he, too, should live with a little more spine.

Dana looked at him with a complex expression. Only the devil knew what outrageous thing he’d do next.

Yamada did not dare underestimate him any longer. A Japanese man valued honor more than life. His grandfather had refused to leave China after the war and committed suicide—and in doing so, had won the respect of all Japanese and brought honor to his family. Now, he felt a strange respect for this suicidal young man. In his experience, Chinese people only fought among themselves, and they were cowards, greedy for wealth. For a worthy opponent, the only true respect was to defeat him utterly.

Yamada moved—faster than lightning. His fist gathered all his strength, and he knew Ethan could not dodge it. (He’d seen Ethan’s clumsy gait; the man was a complete amateur.)

Yamada aimed for a killing blow—only then would Japan’s dignity be preserved. His fist slammed into Ethan’s left ribcage, and he swore he felt bones crack. Yamada could shatter five bricks with one punch. He’d won.

Ethan did not move—he didn’t have time. He heard the sickening crunch of his own bones, a cold clarity washing over him. A man who does not know himself is doomed to fail. He grunted, taking the full force of the blow with his body, and drove his right fist into Yamada’s head.

Yamada’s vision blurred. The man was fighting with his life. Yamada smiled—he’d trained in karate since he was seven, and for thirteen years, he’d honed his pain tolerance. To strike hard, you must first learn to take a hit. But this man’s punch was surprisingly powerful. Yamada’s right fist crashed into Ethan’s right ribcage; Ethan’s left fist slammed into Yamada’s head again.

They traded blows like two men hitting a punching bag—one punch, then the other, no mercy...

Blood trickled from Ethan’s mouth, but he refused to fall. Dana’s tears finally fell. "Stop! Please stop! Ethan, we surrender!"

Her desperate cry cut through the chaos. Ethan’s legs had been ready to give way, but he straightened. His foggy mind cleared. She cares about me, he thought. I can’t fall—not in front of her (the freak, moments from death, still worried about his image).

Ethan roared with renewed fury, throwing a punch at Yamada’s chest—light, weak, filled with the last of his hope and dreams. (He’d wanted to hit Yamada’s head, to turn him into a pig even if he lost, but his arms were too weak to lift.)

Yamada was astonished by the man’s endurance. Even international fighters could not take so many of his heavy blows. When he saw Ethan’s feeble punch, he laughed.

The man is finished. The fight ends now.

Yamada did not dodge. He let out a battle cry and swung his fist at Ethan’s head.

A miracle happened.

Yamada flew backward like a broken kite... His eyes wide with shock, he stared at Ethan mid-air... Impossible...

Ethan stared at the unconscious Yamada, confused. He had no idea what had just happened.

But he knew he’d won. He saw Dana running toward him, tears streaming down her face...

"Damn you, Japanese pig..." Ethan’s triumphant words died on his lips as he crumpled to the ground.