The Chinese King of Nanyang: Starting in the Underground Boxing Ring

“If you want to become a leader, you have to know how to fight.” Among the Chinese in Nanyang, there are three kinds: those who live on their knees, those who lie down and die, and those who use their fists to break oppression and straighten the backs of their fellow Chinese. Zou Ming threw a punch, and then The colonizers saw him as a nuisance, the Japanese regarded him as a sworn enemy, and the Malay gangs called him “that damn boxer.” But hundreds of thousands of Chinese called him “Mr. Zou.” A reporter asked: “Mr. Zou, you won the championship, founded a business, and supported tens of thousands of Chinese people... Some say you're mixed-race, while others say you're not even human, because your body is so unusual. Where are you really from?” Zou Ming smiled. “First of all, I'm obviously from Earth. And secondly, I'm Chinese.” “How did you achieve everything you have today?” Zou Ming glanced at his right hand. “That takes us back to 1926, to a laborers' hut in Chinatown...”