Judge of Black Fist

Poisonous Fangs and Weaknesses

The white light in the infirmary was blinding. Marcus sat on the metal examination table, unbuttoning his prison uniform to reveal a bruised chest from last night's fight with the black bear. The purplish-black marks spread like stained ink beneath his ribs. Dr. Doc pressed an ice pack against his chest, the coolness of his fingertips seeping through the fabric to ease the burning pain.

"The Black Bear's punch packs at least two hundred pounds. It's already a tough fight to knock him out with one blow," Doc said softly, adjusting the ice pack in his hand. "But when you face Cobra tomorrow, you'll need to be even more cautious. That guy's way tougher than the Black Bear – he's always got tricks up his sleeve."

Marcus frowned and activated the "Eye of Truth" subconsciously, noticing a pale blue mist rising from Doc's head —— a clear indication of his honesty. He pressed on, "What's up? Stashing something in the glove?"

"Not just that." Doc lowered his voice as he pulled out a small glass jar from the drawer, its contents revealing pale yellow powder. "When a prisoner's wound from a Cobra strike became infected and festered, I secretly took samples for testing. This was capsaicin—— the stuff that causes skin burns and blurred vision. The Cobra always coated their gloves with this stuff. Since the referees are all Tony's men, they never bother checking."

Marcus tapped his knuckles on the armrest of the examination chair. Tony had deliberately arranged for the cobra to fight him, not only to test him but also to use the cobra's underhanded tactics to "teach" him a lesson —— If he lost, he would either suffer severe injuries and become useless or surrender obediently to Tony; if he won, he would still face consequences from the cobra's tricks, making him realize Tony's methods.

"Can you do something?" Marcus looked at Doc, knowing that he was being coerced by Tony, but that he could help him.

Doc remained silent for a few seconds before rummaging through the cabinet and pulling out a tube of white ointment labeled "Burn Repair Ointment": "I had this brought in by someone from outside to neutralize the irritation caused by capsaicin. You should secretly apply it to your wrists and chest —— areas that are most vulnerable before tomorrow's competition. But be careful not to get discovered by Tony's team."

Marcus took the ointment and touched Doc's hand, feeling it still trembling slightly. He remembered Doc's daughter Lily and whispered, "How much more does Lily's treatment cost?"

Doc's eyes darkened, and the fog flashed with images of "hospital payment notes" and "Lily's pale face": "There's still $30,000 left. Tony only gave me $5,000 this month and said he'd wait until I" do better "to give me the rest."

Marcus had a plan. He pulled out the five hundred "Prison Coins" he'd won last night from his pocket—— those plastic tokens with the prison emblem —— and handed them to Doc: "Take these first. They're not much, but they can buy you something to send Lily. Once I win tomorrow's boxing match and get the prize money, I'll give you the rest."

Doc was stunned, his eyes reddening slightly as he looked at the prison coins Marcus handed him. "You... you don't have to do this. I'm helping you because I know you're being wronged. Keep this money for yourself —— many places in prison require bribes."

"Take this." Marcus slipped the token into Doc's hand. "Lily needs it, and since I won tomorrow's match, there'll be more prize money." His "Eye of Truth" saw gratitude and guilt filling Doc's fogged vision, confirming this ally had been fully secured.

As he left the infirmary, a commotion erupted in the corridor. Marcus looked up to see Justin blocking the way with two prisoners, his hand gripping a sharpened plastic spoon —— the most common "weapon" in the prison.

"Marcus, I hear you're close to Doc?" Justin's lips curled in a sneer and his eyes stared at Marcus like a viper. "You don't think you can beat a cobra with a doctor, do you?"

Marcus halted in his tracks. The "Eye of Truth" activated instantly, revealing the crimson mist above Justin's head flashing with visions: "Tonight's raid on Marcus's cell," "Slashing his face with a plastic spoon to cripple him for tomorrow's match." He sneered inwardly while maintaining a poker face: "Whether I win or not, you'll see tomorrow. But you, always trailing Tony around doing errands—aren't you afraid he'll one day use you as a pawn?"

Justin's face turned pale. He detested being called a "soldier" —— Back when he owed Tony money, he was forced to stay in prison as an informant. Once he became useless, Tony would certainly abandon him without hesitation. Clenching the plastic spoon in his hand, he took a step forward: "Stop dragging this out! I warn you, you'd better lose tomorrow's match! Otherwise......"

"What else?" Marcus stepped forward, his height and presence instantly overpowering Justin. "You want to sneak up on me tonight? With that broken spoon in your hand?"

Justin's pupils shot up, his plastic spoon nearly slipping from his hand. He never imagined Marcus had caught on to his scheme. Was there someone leaking the information? Or... did this former soldier possess some kind of special ability?

"You... You don't talk nonsense!" Justin tried to keep his cool, but he involuntarily took a step back. "I'm just reminding you to be sensible!"

"Get lost." Marcus's voice was as cold as ice. "If you block the road again, I don't mind letting you taste a plastic spoon in the face right now —— but it will be your own face."

Justin's eyes narrowed as he saw Marcus's fierce gaze, recalling how the black bear had been knocked out with a single punch last night. He gave Marcus a fierce glare before leading the two prisoners away in frustration. Before leaving, he added, "Wait till you see what tomorrow's Cobra has in store for you!"

Marcus watched their retreating figures and fumbled with the ointment in his pocket. Though Justin's ambush had been exposed, it reminded him —— that Tony wouldn't rely solely on the Cobra's underhanded tactics—they must have prepared other backup plans. He needed to be more cautious.Returning to Cell 402, Marcus saw the quilt on the upper bunk turned into a mess and the pillow scattered across the floor. He immediately recognized Justin's handiwork from his earlier visit to the infirmary. Picking up the pillow, he found a note tucked inside the pillowcase written in pencil: "The cobra has a healed rib injury from three years ago. The trauma left him in pain that leaves him weak."

Marcus froze. Who wrote this? Was it Doc? Or another prisoner oppressed by Tony? He glanced at the handwriting on the note—it was crooked and messy, hardly Doc's style. He stuffed the note under his shoe —— this was the only clue so far, and whoever left it would be useful tomorrow.

At dinnertime, Marcus took a seat in the corner of the cafeteria. The prisoners around him looked at him with newfound respect, no longer daring to mock him as they had before. Just as he picked up his spoon, Tom appeared with a tray and sat down opposite him.

"Marcus, you played well last night." Tom's face wore a fake smile as he jabbed the fork into the mashed potato on his plate. "Tony really likes you. He said if you beat the Cobra tomorrow, he'll give you a 'easier job' —— no lifting stones or manual labor."

Marcus's "Eye of Truth" immediately activated, revealing through Tom's fogged vision the message: "Tony wants me to test Marcus-see if he'll take on the job." The text continued: "If he agrees, transfer him to a cell near the warehouse for easier control." Marcus knew full well this so-called "easy job" would mean cleaning up Tony's dirty work-whether dealing with unruly inmates or relaying g**g intel.

"An easy job?" Marcus asked in feigned surprise. "What?"

Tom set down his fork and leaned closer, lowering his voice: "Like keeping an eye on those 'troublemakers' for Tony, or... handling some 'issues'. Tony said that if you stay obedient, not only will your sentence be reduced, but you'll even get money sent to your family back home —— Oh, I forgot, you don't seem to have any family left?"

Marcus's eyes instantly turned cold. Tom's deliberate mention of his family was both a provocation and a test of his limits. Clenching his spoon-hand with white knuckles, he declared: "I have no interest in this nonsense. I just want to serve my sentence properly and get out as soon as possible."

Tom's smile froze as images flashed through the mist: "Ungrateful" and "Wait until he loses the match before dealing with him." He stood up, slapping Marcus' shoulder hard: "Don't be shameless. Here, Tony's words are law. If you don't listen, I'll make you regret it." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the mashed potatoes scattered across the plate.

Marcus watched Tom's retreating figure, realizing —— Tony and Tom's collusion ran deeper than he'd ever imagined. To survive in prison and even gather evidence, he needed to break their control first. And tomorrow's boxing match was the perfect opportunity.

Late at night, Marcus tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep. He took out the ointment Doc had given him and applied a thin layer to his wrist and chest. The cool sensation made him more alert. He then touched the note on the sole of his shoe, remembering the old wound —— on Cobra's right rib—this was his only chance.

Suddenly, faint footsteps echoed from outside the cell. Marcus immediately closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. The footsteps stopped at the door of Cell 402, with someone peering through the bars. Marcus glanced sideways with his peripheral vision and saw a tall figure —— a cobra!

The glasses snake held a boxing glove in his hand, secretly applying something inside. The pale yellow powder glowed faintly under the moonlight —— it was capsaicin! After finishing, he glanced back at the cell to confirm that Marcus was "asleep," then turned and left.

Marcus opened his eyes and sneered. The Cobra had indeed followed Tony's instructions, even coming to "check in" on his condition. But neither of them had expected that he would not only know about the capsaicin incident, but also be aware of the Cobra's old injuries.

The next morning, before the scheduled break time, Justin came to call Marcus. He tossed him an old boxing glove: "Tony said use this. Don't even think about getting a replacement – nobody's gonna swap it for you."

Marcus took the gloves and checked the inside, finding nothing amiss —— It seemed Tony hadn't tampered with his gear – he'd bet everything on Cobra's capsaicin. Putting the gloves on, he followed Justin into the warehouse.

The warehouse was already packed with more people than last night. Tony sat on the high platform, holding a thermos filled with whiskey —— – his "privilege" brought in from outside. The cobra stood at the center of the ring, bare-chested, with a long scar on his right ribcage that resembled an ugly worm clinging to the skin.

"Marcus here?" Tony called out, raising his thermos cup. "The rules remain the same as yesterday—until either side admits defeat or can't move. But here's the thing: the Cobra's got a short fuse. If you're going to throw in the towel mid-game, you'd better call it early."

Marcus jumped into the ring without a word. Cobra looked at him with a cruel smile on his lips, raised his gloves and shook them, his fingers still stained with unclean chili powder: "Did you sleep well last night? I hope you'll have the strength to stand up today."

Marcus didn't respond, just stared at the right rib of the cobra. The referee blew the whistle and the game began.

The cobra lunged forward, raining punches on Marcus's chest and face. Following the plan, Marcus deliberately dodged his left punch, focusing only on defending against the right one —— until the cobra's right rib was exposed.

"What? Just hiding?" The cobra sneered, smashing a punch toward Marcus's chest. Without dodging, Marcus took the blow head-on. The capsaicin inside his gloves brushed against his chest, sending a searing sensation through him like being scalded by fire.

Marcus groaned in pain and cold sweat poured down his face. But instead of retreating, he took the opportunity to get close to the cobra and punch him in the right rib.

"Ah!" The cobra let out a scream, his face turning deathly pale. He hadn't expected Marcus to know about his old injury, nor had he anticipated the punch's devastating force. His right ribcage throbbed like it'd been hammered by an iron hammer, forcing him to bend over in agony as his fist went limp.

Marcus seized the opportunity and unleashed a series of powerful punches at Cobra's right ribs. Each strike was delivered with full force, the snake's agonized screams growing louder as cold sweat soaked his hair. The surrounding prisoners were stunned—no one had expected this former soldier to spot Cobra's weakness and deliver such vicious blows.

Tony sat on the high platform, his face ashen. The thermos in his hand clattered to the ground, spilling whiskey everywhere. He never expected that Marcus not only saw through the chili pepper alkaloid scheme but also discovered who had leaked information about Cobra's old injuries —— —was it Doc? Or another prisoner?

The spectacled man finally collapsed, falling with a thud onto the boxing ring. Gasping for air, he couldn't muster the strength to stand. His eyes locked with Marcus's, filled with terror: "I concede... I concede......""

The referee blew the whistle to call Marcus the winner, but Tony suddenly stood up and shouted into the walkie-talkie: "No! He fouled! He deliberately hit the old snake injury!"

The surrounding prisoners immediately erupted in commotion, with some shouting "Unfair!" and others yelling "Tony's cheating!" Marcus watched Tony from the high platform, a sneer curling at the corners of his mouth. He walked to the edge of the ring and shouted at Tony, "Foul? Why didn't you mention the chili powder hidden in the Cobra's gloves? Shall we show everyone?"

Tony's face changed in an instant. He didn't expect Marcus to dare expose the matter in public! If he did check the Cobra's gloves, not only would the Cobra be punished, but he would also be held accountable by the warden for "tolerating cheating".

"You... you're lying!" Tony tried to keep his cool. "Who saw anything in the Cobra's gloves? Do you have any proof?"

Marcus glanced at Doc——Doc standing among the crowd, clutching a small test tube containing pale yellow powder. The moment Doc saw him, he immediately raised the tube and shouted to the surrounding prisoners: "I have evidence! This is the capsaicin I scraped off a Cobra boxing glove. I tested it yesterday!"

The surrounding inmates erupted in chaos, pointing fingers at Tony and Cobra. As Tony examined the test tube in Doc's hand and surveyed the furious crowd, he knew clinging on would only make things worse. Clenching his teeth, he declared over the intercom: "Let's... let him win."

Marcus stood on the boxing ring, receiving cheers from the surrounding prisoners. He looked at Tony, who was pale-faced on the high platform, then glanced at Doc——Doc in the crowd and nodded at him, his eyes filled with approval.

He knew this victory would not only secure his position in the prison, but also create a rift in Tony and Tom's control. His next move was to exploit this weakness, gathering more evidence to inch closer to the core of the Hydra organization. This way, he could clear his name and avenge Billy's death.

Marcus received a thousand prison coins as a prize after the game. He handed eight hundred of them to Doc and said, "Send it to Lily first. I'll keep the rest for myself."

Doc took the token and his eyes reddened again. "Thank you, Marcus. If there's anything I can do for you, just ask."

Marcus nodded. He looked at the warehouse in the distance, where Tony was yelling at Tom and Cobra, and he could vaguely hear the words "waste" and "Chanel ghost."

He knew Tony wouldn't let it go. More dangerous challenges lay ahead, but he wasn't afraid —— of his "Eye of Truth" to see through all lies and his fists to shatter all darkness. In this prison controlled by the Hydra, he would be like a ray of light, tearing through all evil until the day justice arrives.