Chapter 17: Five Consecutive Victories
“Bang! Boom!”
Zhang Ji threw a punch, dismantling the weapon of the fourth iron-clad fighter, severing his head from his body, and then forcefully throwing it against the arena wall.
The man had somehow managed to get hold of a small-caliber homemade cannon; its projectile was powerful enough that Zhang Ji narrowly avoided being hit.
If he had been struck, he might not have died instantly, but his health would have been critically low.
Facing Zhang Ji, who had won four consecutive matches, the moods of both Li Long’s people and Pang Yanyang’s team shifted slightly.
Although the remaining leaders on Li Long’s side felt they might avoid the brutal fights ahead, they were somewhat dissatisfied that Zhang Ji alone had reaped the benefits of winning a match.
On the other side, Pang Yanyang’s people were hesitant to step into the arena.
The man ranked sixth was trembling visibly.
“Elder, let me go,” said a tall, short-haired woman clad in alloy leg guards.
“My little darling, I originally planned to have you as the final fighter, but since it’s come to this, you go. Make it a good show,” Pang Yanyang said, looking at the woman.
She nodded, exchanged her numbered token with the trembling man, and then suddenly delivered a powerful kick.
“Bang!”
The man flew backward, crashing into the metal seats welded to the spectators’ stands. His chest deformed grotesquely, and a mixture of dirt and blood seeped from his mouth and nose as his head tilted back.
Without even glancing back, the woman strode straight toward the arena entrance.
“Click, click, click, click!”
As the gate opened and the woman stepped out, Zhang Ji’s expression shifted slightly.
If he remembered correctly, the sixth token should have belonged to a man.
But Zhang Ji didn’t care whether it was a man or a woman—they were all targets to be eliminated.
What made him wary was that, like him, this opponent wore no iron armor and didn’t carry a gun.
In the stands, Wang Quan asked Li Long, “They’ve broken the rules. Should we stop this fight?”
Li Long replied calmly, “Only fighting the weak won’t lead to growth.”
His disciples couldn’t be mere weaklings who only fought weaker opponents.
More importantly, rules held little meaning for true warriors.
Even if he himself stepped into the ring, what would it matter if all the opponents attacked at once?
...
In the arena, Zhang Ji assumed a cautious stance for the first time.
The woman moved lightly on the ground, clad in metal armor covering both legs, yet her footsteps were almost soundless.
Soon, the distance between them closed to less than thirty meters.
The woman stopped, and Zhang Ji clenched his fists, guarding his chest.
“Whoosh!”
In a flash from stillness to motion, she closed the gap and delivered a kick.
Zhang Ji tried to dodge but found himself unable to evade.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest, bracing to absorb the blow.
“Clang! Bang!”
A tremendous force struck him; his arms strained, and he staggered back several steps.
Before he could plan his next move, another kick came chasing after him.
Zhang Ji raised his arm to block, intending to deflect the incoming strike, but the power transmitted through his arm was far greater than expected.
Legs naturally exert more force than arms—at least three times as much.
His arm was pushed away with a single touch, and without moving his body, the woman followed up with a front kick.
“Bang!”
Zhang Ji fell to the ground, rolling several times before coming to a stop.
He patted the ground with both hands and quickly got back to his feet.
Pain radiated from his arms and chest; the woman’s leg strength was formidable, even surpassing the impact of an iron canister strike.
Zhang Ji estimated that his punches carried at least a thousand jin of force, yet her blows exceeded even that.
She stepped forward on her toes, closing in on him.
“Is this all Golden Vajra Sect has left?” Yu Wanqiu said with some displeasure.
Once upon a time, it had been among the top five prestigious sects in the Eastern Extreme Kingdom.
Now, its heirs possessed only this level of skill.
Zhang Ji said nothing, quietly pondering his next move.
He regulated his breathing, fully adopting the breathing method of the Iron Shirt technique. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, blood and energy circulating rapidly through his body.
“Whoosh!”
---
“Bang! Buzz!”
A sudden kick struck Zhang Ji’s left shoulder. This time, the clash between his skin and the opponent’s armored leg emitted a metallic buzzing sound.
Zhang Ji felt his energy suppressed; a power accumulated deep within his flesh, ready to spring back like a coiled spring once he could no longer endure.
“Boom!”
He exerted force from his shoulder muscles and bones, barely blocking the kick and parrying it.
Yu Wanqiu struggled to switch tactics and retreated a few steps, borrowing momentum.
In the spectators’ section, Master Kui’s eyes widened.
“The Shock Technique!”
The Golden Vajra Invincible Body Technique was never a simple martial art of enduring blows.
If it were, the Golden Vajra Sect wouldn’t rank among the top five of the Eastern Extreme Kingdom.
This technique allowed the practitioner to accumulate power while being struck and then rebound it back at their opponent.
When activated, even bullets could be reflected back with greater speed and force.
The Iron Shirt was the foundational practice of the Golden Vajra Sect, essentially a simplified version of the Invincible Body Technique.
Thanks to the Boundary Space, Zhang Ji had forcibly cultivated thirty percent mastery of the Iron Shirt, gaining some properties of the divine skill.
“Whoosh!”
“Bang, bang, bang! Buzz, buzz, buzz!”
Zhang Ji endured continuous kicks, his body resonating with humming vibrations. Occasionally, he would tense muscles to unleash a counterstrike, forcing Yu Wanqiu to evade.
The two exchanged blows fiercely.
However, Zhang Ji was less agile than his opponent.
He could only passively endure the attacks, struggling to find an opening for offense.
His breathing grew erratic.
Without steady breath control, he couldn’t perform the rebound technique.
But while he was fatigued, so was his opponent.
Women generally had less stamina than men, and kicking techniques demanded more energy.
By now, her movements had noticeably slowed.
Zhang Ji began luring her toward the iron canisters scattered on the ground.
The arena offered no obstacles; these iron cans were the only hindrance.
Though lying on the floor, they forced her to adjust her steps to cross them.
Sure enough, as she pursued, her returning kick lifted higher than before.
An opportunity!
Zhang Ji bent forward, charging to knock her down and engage in close combat.
Yet Yu Wanqiu’s expression remained unchanged; her kicking leg suddenly struck downward.
“Swish!”
“Clang!”
The back of Zhang Ji’s head was kicked; he lost balance and fell face-first onto the ground.
“Don’t you know that when you exert seven parts power in a move, you have to reserve three parts? Do you think I can’t change my technique?” Yu Wanqiu taunted.
She wasn’t sure if she was mocking Zhang Ji or lamenting herself.
Both came from honorable sects; one had been cast away to Shanyu Island, forced to entertain others to earn a chance to leave.
The other had nearly lost his legacy, lacking even the most basic fighting skills.
Zhang Ji stood, shaking his head, feeling a dull buzzing in his mind.
He removed his helmet, revealing a youthful, almost innocent face.
Indeed, his face was still smooth and young.
He guessed that after crossing over, he had become a default game character template.
Though his appearance remained his own, his bone age was probably only sixteen.
“Now I understand. Come on,” Zhang Ji said.
Yu Wanqiu hesitated not at all upon seeing his face; survival of the fittest did not bend for any reason.
Only the strongest deserved to live.
“Tap, tap, tap!”
Three consecutive steps, each heavier than the last, then she bent her knee and unleashed a spring-like kick with her right leg.
Zhang Ji tried to dodge, but his speed was no match.
He had no choice but to channel his breath and brace with his arms.
“Buzz! Bang!”
Zhang Ji was kicked several meters away.
As he landed, Yu Wanqiu pressed the attack again.
“Bang, bang, bang! Buzz!”
His breathing faltered; bruises deepened to purple and dark red beneath his skin.
These were ruptured subcutaneous tissues.
If it had been the iron-clad fighters instead, Zhang Ji was certain one kick would have been enough to bring them down.
---
Zhang Ji retreated steadily to the corner of the arena.
“Step! Boom! Crack!”
The wall bore a foot-shaped indentation nearly an inch deep, surrounded by spiderweb-like cracks from her powerful kick.
He had taken dozens of such blows head-on.
Without thirty percent mastery of the Iron Shirt, he would never have survived.
...
In the stands, Wang Quan said, “He looks like he’s about to lose.”
Li Long countered, “If he wins, the Water Stride Sect’s fighter will lose.”
He had been watching closely.
So far, Zhang Ji had only subtly used the Lynx Claw Technique once, stabbing one iron can’s neck.
After that, he hid his true skill.
If he revealed it now, Yu Wanqiu would have to be cautious with her kicks.
No one wanted to risk losing flesh with a single retaliatory strike.
Even with her leg armor, the thin layer might not withstand Zhang Ji’s attack.
But Zhang Ji endured, waiting for a wide opening to deliver a fatal blow.
Meanwhile, he was wearing down her stamina.
He knew well that if she refrained from attacking, his speed couldn’t match hers in a prolonged standoff.
But she might not have his endurance, so this strategy was sound.
...
“Tap, tap!”
Two deep dents appeared on the ground.
In the next instant, Yu Wanqiu was airborne, spinning as her right leg whipped like a whip toward Zhang Ji.
Kicking techniques differed from punches.
Usually, only one or two kicks were delivered at critical moments.
Kicking exposed openings; if it failed to land, balance was easily lost under counterattack.
Though Yu Wanqiu had mastered overcoming this weakness, kicking still revealed vulnerabilities.
At this very moment, her airborne side sweep exposed her greatest flaw.
Zhang Ji tensed his knees and leapt to intercept.
“Bang!”
He didn’t block with his arms but took the kick with his head instead.
He instantly felt several teeth dislodge, pain radiating from his left cheek down his neck.
Yet he had already seized her right leg, fingers digging deep into her thigh, using his upward momentum to slam her toward the ground.
“Bang!”
They hit the ground.
Zhang Ji swung a punch.
Yu Wanqiu’s right foot was trapped; her left knee bent, trying to push him away.
But Zhang Ji held firm, enduring pain in his abdomen as he struck her arm.
One blow.
“Crack!”
Her arm shielding him shattered.
Next moment, Zhang Ji’s claws plunged into her abdomen.
“Splurt!”
Yu Wanqiu’s eyes widened.
To remain agile, she wore only a thin layer of armor, which was no match for Zhang Ji’s claws.
He was literally tearing into her heart.
“Boom!”
Zhang Ji was kicked away by a sudden burst of power from his opponent, still clutching a section of intestine.
His abdomen throbbed fiercely from the repeated kicks.
He struggled to stand, blood and teeth spilling from his mouth, a pitiful sight.
Opposite him, Yu Wanqiu could not rise.
She clutched her abdomen, eyes vacant as she stared at the arena’s dome, seemingly lost in memories.
“Tap, tap, tap!”
This time, Zhang Ji charged swiftly and delivered a powerful kick to Yu Wanqiu’s head.
“Crack! Splurt!”
She fell silent, no longer condemned to relive the endless cycle.
Zhang Ji didn’t even glance at her corpse.
Clutching his stomach, he turned toward the gate.
“Hmph!”
A cold snort echoed, sending a chill down Zhang Ji’s spine, as if a deadly threat was approaching.