I'm Wang Qing, king of the UFC ring. The championship belt is my medal, and my undefeated record is my calling card. I dreamed of becoming the Michael Jordan of combat sports, but one title defense shattered that dream completely. Because I refused to bow to the dark forces rigging the betting, they tampered with the equipment I trusted most: the inside of my mouthguard was coated with a colorless, odorless hallucinogen. In the ring, my head grew heavy, my legs unsteady, my vision blurred, and my opponent's punches came hurtling toward me... When I woke, the smell of disinfectant had given way to mold, and the bright hospital room had become a bare, dilapidated shack. Somehow, I had landed in Kowloon Walled City, Hong Kong, in 1950. This was a lawless place beyond anyone's control, ruled by the forces of prostitution, gambling, and drugs, where ordinary people struggled to survive. To stay alive and find even the faintest hope of returning to the modern era, I had no choice but to shoulder sacks and toil at the very bottom. But the blood of a fighting champion had never gone cold. This chaotic walled city was like one enormous octagon, and with my fists, I would carve out a new order and a new legend.
