Even in the 19th century when dueling was no longer advocated, this kind of project that could rely on its own strength to maintain honor still occupied a very high position in the minds of noble gentlemen. Who doesn't like to stand in front of a provoking corpse with his favorite weapon, smiling and receiving everyone's admiration.
Of course, actually taking action is another matter.
Hans had spent two years in France and knew very well how enthusiastic the French were about dueling. Alphonse had never wanted to let Ben Li go in the first place, and now that it was still published in the newspaper, it was no longer possible to remove it.
"Isn't Mr. Li Ben recuperating in the ward?" Berget was surprised.
"He was not there when I went to see him at noon today, and the nurse said he didn't know." Hans was helpless. "The dessert I bought was wasted."
Kavi was also surprised.
He was surprised that Hans would personally bring food and go to the dirty Municipal General Hospital for this "friend" he just met: "Mr. Hans is really thoughtful."
"After all, he is an assistant." Hans seemed to be very involved in this role, with a bright smile on his face. "I feel like I am helping Mr. Li Ben."
Berget found an empty seat and sat down, picked up the black tea brought by the servant, and took a few sips: "Maybe he was wandering in the garden."
"No, no, you don't bring all your luggage with you when you go wandering in the garden." Hans waved his hand and said with a smile, "I saw that his bed was empty, and even a towel delivered by the hospital was taken away. It's really Quite frugal enough.”
"Huh? Isn't he a noble?"
"I don't know that."
At noon, Kawei and Ignatz were eating outside, and Berget and the others were also resting. No one would care about the whereabouts of a patient.
Even old doctors like Kawei who have modern medical concepts will not do it, because in modern hospitals, it is difficult for patients to leave the hospital alone. Who would have thought that the wards of the largest municipal general hospital in Austria in the 19th century would not care about the whereabouts of patients.
Looking at the whole hospital, the most disciplined ones are probably the pregnant women in the obstetrics and gynecology department, because once they leave the hospital, they lose the right to apply for child care allowance.
"I think the only thing I can do is try to persuade Mr. Alphonse." Berget looked at Kavi and suggested, "He seems to listen to you more."
"I have a headache..." Kawei shook his head, "If I could persuade him, I wouldn't have to send the letter to the newspaper editor's office."
"Hey, is he really going to be an enemy of Mr. Hans?" Berget's face was particularly exciting, worried and excited. "You know that Hans has the hearts of all the girls in Vienna behind him. If we really fight, Each one of them could spray him to death with just a spitting breath."
"I'll try my best..."
"Okay, okay, let's go watch the game quickly." Hans put his little finger on the table and gently put down the tea cup. "It's getting late, and we have to pick up Sarson and Melen."
"what match?"
Hans smiled and raised his fist symbolically: "A contest where fists speak for themselves."
Kawei was taken aback: "I thought Sir was someone who doesn't like fighting."
"Of course I don't like to fight." Hans looked at his slender arms and explained with a smile, "But I like to watch."
...
What they call a boxing match is actually just a black boxing match held in the basement of a tavern. This kind of boxing match is not uncommon. The usually polite Austrians need a place to vent and relax after a long day of work.
If you are in urgent need of money, ordinary spectators can also go to the stage in person and experience the feeling of a fist to the flesh.
Although it is a small place, if you really want to get in, you still have to rely on some connections and connections. After all, this is a gray industry in Vienna and is shady.
Finding the correct entrance location is what they call the "ticket". It was not easy for Hans to get the tickets and it cost him a lot of money.
There is no formal boxing ring inside, just a small arena made of several long wooden boards. There were several dim candle lights on the top, and the surroundings were filled with cheering civilians.
There are no rules, no number of rounds, and no protective equipment. The game starts with the referee's order and continues until either side is unable to fight back. As for what it means to be unable to fight back, probably only the referee and myself know.
Although we are talking about boxing, in fact, arms, elbows, foreheads, and knees can be used. Wrestling and kicking are also common moves. The most exaggerated thing is that even teeth are often used in close combat.
There is only one principle. No matter what the outcome is, both parties must see blood in the process, and the plot must also have ups and downs, otherwise it will not arouse the audience's emotions and it will not be exciting.
This kind of underground boxing match is also a money-making tool for the bosses, and security guards are often needed to maintain it: "How many are there?"
"Five."
"Admission is free." The security guard blocked their way, "But you must place a bet before entering. The price shall not be less than 1 crown per person. No bargaining, and installment payment is not supported."
"Here." Hans handed over a 50-kronor note and pointed to a name on the tournament table on the wall. "All-in, Robert the Rat!"
The security guard was startled. He took the banknote and looked the visitor up and down. If he found no problems, he accepted the money and prepared to let him go: "The next game is Robert. If you win, you can get 55 kronor."
"Um......"
"By the way, what time is the War of Mice and Men?"
"Robert will have to take a rest for about 20 minutes after the performance, which is expected to be 10 p.m."
"How much can we win if Robert breaks the record today?"
"You continue to bet on him to win?"
"right."
"If he really wins, you can get three times the reward."
"Bet 100 crowns, Robert wins."
"I'll bet 100 too."
"100, Robert~"
"Then I'll give you a little more, 200. Robert will definitely set a record today!"
The four young men, who had no worries about food and clothing, spent lavishly, and the security guard was stunned for a moment. The 500 crowns alone were more than all the bets on the previous game, and they were all betting on Robert.
"If you bet like this, the odds will drop..."
"Just surrender, whatever you want."
Kawei was cash-strapped, and just as he was about to put his hand into his pocket, Berget took out the money for him: "I'll do it, 100 crowns, bet...which one do you want to bet?"
"Bet on losing. You should be able to get some odds back."
"Betting to lose? Robert is very strong." Sarson reminded, "The last game was only 3 seconds away, and he won within 3 seconds!"
"Yes, I will definitely win this time."
Berget happily stuffed the money into the security guard's arms: "It's okay, Kawei can deposit whatever he wants, it's just a mere 100 crowns."
"Okay, I'll note it down."
Money is just a number for these five people, and getting in as early as possible to watch the game is the highlight. Before the security guards could calculate the odds, they dragged poor Kawi toward the playing field.
The basement is not much bigger than the tavern upstairs, and because there are so many people, it is impossible to hear what the people around here are saying.
As soon as he opened the door, Kawei's ears were filled with all kinds of messy sounds, and the entire Tianling Cap was constantly bearing the impact of the sound waves.
Compared to him, the four normally well-dressed people seemed to be at ease like birds released into the forest.
Hans did not lie.
This great painter who was loved by everyone, wearing a prosthetic beard and a cheap woolen coat commonly worn by civilians, was able to squeeze into the crazy crowd naturally, and was amazed by the blood splattering on the field and the crisp sound of fractures. Shout out.
Although Sarson and Mellen are the second generation of rich people, they understand the daily pastimes of the working class very well, and it is not difficult to integrate into them.
The only one who seemed a little restrained was Berget. Even here, it was difficult for him to shed his aristocratic air. In his eyes, there is no honor in this kind of fight for money, but it may not be that easy for him to leave now.
"Hit, hit him!"
"Kick in the stomach, yes, another kick!"
"He's fallen to the ground, step on his waist quickly, keep going, don't give him a chance to breathe~~~"
Kawei frowned as he watched the boxing match. According to this style of fighting, the outcome of the match was either win or death. Even if he survives by luck and the fracture is only a minor injury, he may not be able to get out of bed in two or three weeks. If your luck is a little worse, there will be no second chance in this life.
After all, in an arena where there are no competitive rules, people basically rely on their physical fitness. Guys with broken arms and lame legs cannot play because the boss can't make any money at all.
After a while, the referee finally stepped over the wooden fence and entered the field, helping to pull away the violent party: "... Gekayi fell to the ground, Polac wins!"
As soon as the ruling came out, the staff on both sides quickly opened the small door and dragged Gekayi, who had turned into a puddle of mud, out of the playing field.
"The next match is Ironman Maldo, who has 3 wins and 1 loss, against..." the referee smiled and looked at a stool behind him, "...our champion has 13 wins and 2 losses. Robert the Rat King!”
Facing the champion, the dark-skinned Meldo looked extremely calm, or it could be said that he had no expression at all. Just when Robert was moving his hands and feet, Leng Buding stepped forward, stuck out his tongue, and made a motion of wiping his neck.
The Rat King also took two steps forward and smiled at his dark face: "Hold on a little longer, don't fall down as ugly as the last game."
The two are almost the same in stature, but from a distance, Meldo is slightly taller and has tighter muscles. But when they actually fight on the court, the slight difference in physique is not so obvious. Everyone can clearly feel Robert's flexibility.
Whenever he was forced into a corner, he could find an opening to sneak out and deliver a few punches to the opponent on the way. It's just that Iron Man does live up to his name, and his soft fists have no impact on him.
Meldo's only one skill and tactic after coming on the court was to drive him to the corner and then block his way.
This really works in a small arena. The opponent in the last game was pushed to the corner by him and punched to death.
But the Rat King is the "champion" after all, and his movement skills are much smarter. Once the opponent's speed and angle are accurately figured out, it is not difficult to get rid of him.
Amidst the fierce cheers of the audience, Robert was like a wild cat teasing a mouse. Not only did he easily dodge the attack, his fists could always land on several of Meldo's tender joints and soft tissues, but they did not lose weight: " You must not fall down, I haven’t had enough fun yet.”
Iron Man looked shaky but still maintained his fighting stance.
"Yes, that's right..."
There was another round of attacks like a sudden storm. Just when everyone thought it would be a one-sided match, Iron Man suddenly tilted his body and threw out an incredible right hook.
Although Robert had always memorized the path of the punch, he didn't expect that the other party's body had lost its center of gravity, and his fist sank a few centimeters, and it swiped right at the place where he wanted to avoid.
Facing the door in the middle.
The Rat King is agile, but his ability to withstand blows is not strong. With just one punch, he fell straight to the ground like a machine with the plug unplugged.
Most of the audience bet their daily pocket money on the Rat King.
The former champion has won 10 consecutive games here, and even challenged the battle of mice and men twice, and was only three seconds away from crossing the final hurdle. And Meldo was just a black thug who had just been sold to his boss. He had no fighting experience and relied solely on his physical strength to hold on.
Comparing the two, no matter how you look at it, the Rat King should win.
But the reality was so cruel, and they refused to reason with them at all. Complaints suddenly broke out, and newspapers, cigarette butts and even wine bottles in their hands were flying around the venue.
"Fake punch!"
"They must have colluded to cheat money!!"
"Are you kidding? I bet all the money I just got on him!"
"***, were you squeezed dry on the bed??? It was so beaten!"
"Ah, I can't live without money..."
Even if the teams around them were losing so miserably, the boss of the arena still had no control over their life and death. The purpose of boxing matches is to make money. If the Rat King loses, he loses, and the process must continue.
The referee quickly entered the room, and several porters came in at the same time: "As you can see, the two people fell to the ground one after another. According to the rules of the competition, the first to fall to the ground loses, so Iron Man Meldo wins this game."
Both the Rat King and Iron Man fell to the ground.
In this arena of less than 10 square meters, only those who are standing are considered human beings, and those who fall down are no different from dead pigs being sent to the dissecting table.
"I didn't expect the Rat King to lose..." Hans felt a little lonely, "I thought he could break the record directly."
Sarson asked: "When was the last time?"
"5 minutes and 48 seconds, 3 seconds too late."
"It's a pity, it's a pity. My face turned crooked when I saw this punch."
The referee stabilized the mentality of the people around him as quickly as possible, and a new round of betting was about to begin: "Okay, everyone, gather your emotions. The next step is the highlight of the night. Since the Rat King has been defeated, the Iron Man cannot continue fighting. In the ongoing war between rats and humans, our steel teeth will fight instead!"
"Gangya?" Kawei asked with a smile, "That nickname is quite interesting."
Hans suddenly became excited again: "The steel tooth is so fierce. It holds the record of 5 minutes and 45 seconds."
"oh?"
At this time, the small door on the side of the court was opened again, and a staff member walked into the court. At the same time, there was a large sack, a dog rope and a hound: "Everyone, the next thing you need to place your bet is, Gang Ya faces 100 rats for the second time, can he refresh his record again?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the referee turned back over the wooden wall and returned to the audience.
While the people around were rushing to place bets, the staff member took away the dog leash and slowly opened the slipknot on the sack. With a crashing sound, the mouth of the bag touched the ground, and a black mass of rats was poured out.
