Infinite Fighting

BANG! BOOM!

Zhang Ji threw a punch, stripping the fourth "tin can" of his weapon. He then tore the man’s head from his body and hurled it against the wall of the arena.

The guy had somehow gotten his hands on a small-caliber, makeshift cannon. Its shells were powerful, and Zhang Ji had nearly been hit.

If he had been hit, he might not have died, but he would have been critically wounded for sure.

As Zhang Ji won his fourth consecutive match, the moods of both Li Long’s and Pang Yanyang’s factions began to shift.

While the remaining leaders on Li Long’s side were relieved they could now avoid the deathmatch, they were also somewhat dissatisfied that Zhang Ji had claimed all the rewards for himself.

Meanwhile, the people on Pang Yanyang’s side had grown hesitant to enter the arena.

The man slated to fight sixth was trembling uncontrollably.

"Elder, let me go," a tall, short-haired woman wearing alloy leg guards said.

"My dear, I was planning to save you for last, but since you’re so eager, go ahead. And make it a good show," Pang Yanyang said, looking at the woman.

The woman nodded, swapped number orbs with the trembling man, and then suddenly lashed out with a kick.

BAM!

The man’s body flew through the air, crashing into the metal seats welded to the spectator stands. His chest was bent at a grotesque angle, and a mixture of gore and blood spilled from his mouth and nose.

Without a second glance, the woman walked straight toward the arena’s entrance.

K-K-K-K-K!

The gate ground open. When Zhang Ji saw a woman emerge, his expression shifted slightly.

If he recalled correctly, the person who had drawn the number six slot was supposed to be a man.

Of course, it didn’t matter to Zhang Ji whether his opponent was a man or a woman. In his eyes, they were all targets to be killed.

What put him on alert was that his opponent, like him, wasn’t wearing one of the "tin can" suits. She wasn’t even carrying a gun.

In the spectator stands.

Wang Quan said to Li Long, "They’ve broken the rules. Should we stop this fight?"

"He won’t grow if he only fights weaklings," Li Long said coolly.

’My true successor cannot be some piece of trash who can only beat up the weak.’

’Besides, for the truly strong, rules are largely meaningless.’

’If I were the one fighting, what could they possibly do even if they all attacked me at once?’

...

In the arena, Zhang Ji adopted a cautious stance for the first time.

The woman moved with light, nimble steps across the arena floor. Though her legs were fully encased in metal armor, her movements were nearly silent.

The distance between them quickly closed to less than thirty meters.

The woman halted. Zhang Ji clenched his fists and brought them up to guard his chest.

SWOOSH!

She went from absolute stillness to explosive motion in an instant, crossing the distance between them.

And then came the kick.

Zhang Ji’s first instinct was to dodge, but he found he couldn’t quite get out of the way.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, bracing for a direct hit.

CLANG! BANG!

A tremendous force slammed into him. Zhang Ji’s arms strained under the impact, and unable to keep his footing, he was forced back several steps.

Before he could even think about his next move, she pursued him with another kick.

Zhang Ji swung a downward chop with his arm, intending to parry her kick, but the force that met his block was far greater than he had imagined.

All things being equal, the legs are always stronger than the arms—by at least three times.

Zhang Ji’s arm was knocked aside almost instantly. Without breaking her momentum, she followed up with a forward thrust kick.

BAM!

Zhang Ji was knocked to the ground, rolling several times before he managed to stop himself.

He slapped the ground with both hands and sprang back to his feet.

A strange, sharp pain radiated from his arms and chest. This woman’s leg techniques were powerful—even stronger than the blows from the "tin cans."

Zhang Ji estimated his own punches carried at least a thousand jin of force, but her stats were clearly higher than his.

The woman advanced on Zhang Ji, light on the balls of her feet.

"Is this all that’s left of the Vajra Gate?" Yu Wanqiu said, a hint of dissatisfaction in her voice.

Once upon a time, it had been one of the top five major sects in the Eastern Extreme Country.

But now, its successor possessed so little strength.

Zhang Ji didn’t respond, his mind racing as he tried to figure out his next move.

He regulated his breathing, following the Breathing Skill of the Iron Shirt Skill to the letter. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as he mobilized the Qi and Blood in his body, causing it to circulate at high speed.

SWOOSH!

BAM! BUZZ!

A powerful kick landed squarely on Zhang Ji’s left shoulder. This time, the impact between his skin and her leg armor produced a metallic hum.

’I can feel my Qi and Blood being suppressed,’ Zhang Ji thought. ’A force is building up deep in my muscles with every blow. It’s waiting for the moment I can’t take any more, then it will spring back at her.’

TWANG!

With a sudden exertion of force, the muscles and tendons in Zhang Ji’s shoulder bulged, and he just managed to parry the kick. Straining, Yu Wanqiu used the rebound to change her attack and retreat a short distance.

From the spectator stands, Kratos’s eyes widened.

"The Vibration Art!"

The Indestructible Vajra Body Divine Skill was never just a martial art for taking a beating.

If it were only about tanking hits, the Vajra Gate would never have ranked among the top five in the Eastern Extreme Country.

This divine skill allowed a practitioner to accumulate power while being struck and then reflect it back at their opponent.

Once the skill was active, even bullets would be sent flying back along their original trajectory with even greater speed and power.

The Iron Shirt Skill was the foundational martial art of the Vajra Gate, essentially an extremely simplified version of the Indestructible Vajra Body Divine Skill. By relying on the Limited Space, Zhang Ji had forcibly mastered the Iron Shirt Skill to thirty percent completion, granting him a fraction of the divine skill’s properties.

SWOOSH!

BANG! BANG! BANG! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!

Zhang Ji was battered by a continuous stream of kicks, and buzzing sounds erupted from all over his body. Every so often, he would vibrate his muscles to unleash a concussive blast, forcing Yu Wanqiu to dodge.

For a moment, they were locked in a back-and-forth exchange.

Ultimately, however, Zhang Ji was not as nimble as his opponent.

He was forced onto the defensive, struggling to find an opening to launch his own attack.

His breathing was becoming ragged.

Without steady breathing, it was difficult to use the vibration-rebound technique.

But as tired as he was, his opponent was even more so.

A woman’s stamina is inherently lower than a man’s, and executing powerful leg techniques is more taxing. By this point in the fight, her movements had slowed considerably.

Zhang Ji began to lure his opponent toward the scattered bodies of the "tin cans."

The arena itself had no obstacles; the fallen fighters were the only impediments.

Even though they were just lying on the ground, she would have to adjust her footwork to get past them.

Just as he predicted, when she pursued him with a spinning kick, she had to lift her leg slightly higher to clear a body.

’An opening!’

Zhang Ji ducked and charged, aiming to tackle her and force the fight into close quarters.

But Yu Wanqiu’s expression remained unchanged. The foot she had thrown in a kick suddenly chopped downwards.

SWISH!

CLANG!

The kick connected with the back of Zhang Ji’s head. He lost his balance and fell face-first to the ground.

"Don’t you know the first rule of combat? Never commit more than seventy percent of your strength to an attack, always holding thirty percent in reserve. Did you really think I couldn’t change my move mid-air?" Yu Wanqiu sneered.

She wasn’t sure if her mockery was aimed at Zhang Ji or at herself.

They both came from prestigious, orthodox sects. One had ended up on Shanli Island, forced to use her body to entertain others just for a chance to leave.

The other had lost nearly his entire legacy and now lacked even the most fundamental combat skills.

Zhang Ji got to his feet and shook his head, which was ringing from the blow.

He decided to just take off his helmet, revealing a surprisingly youthful face.

Yes, his face was still so young.

’I guess after I transmigrated, I was reset to some kind of default game character template.’

’My face is the same, but my bone age is probably only sixteen.’

"I know that now. Let’s go," Zhang Ji said.

Yu Wanqiu didn’t hesitate at the sight of Zhang Ji’s young face. The law of the jungle—the strong devour the weak—was immutable.

Only the strong were worthy of survival.

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

With three consecutive stomps, each heavier than the last, Yu Wanqiu suddenly bent her knees and shot her right leg out like a coiled spring.

Zhang Ji tried to retreat and dodge, but he was nowhere near fast enough. In the end, his only option was to activate his Breathing Skill and take the blow with his arms.

BUZZ! BAM!

Zhang Ji was sent flying several meters. The moment he hit the ground, Yu Wanqiu was on him again.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BUZZ!

Zhang Ji’s breathing was becoming labored. His body was covered in blue, purple, and even dark red bruises.

They were caused by ruptured tissue beneath his skin.

If it had been one of the "tin cans," Zhang Ji was certain that a single one of those kicks would have been more than enough to finish them.

Zhang Ji retreated again and again, until he was backed against the arena wall.

STOMP! BOOM! CRACK!

Her kick slammed into the wall, leaving a footprint an inch deep surrounded by a web of cracks.

Zhang Ji had endured dozens of such attacks.

Without his Iron Shirt Skill at thirty percent completion, he never would have been able to withstand them.

...

In the spectator stands, Wang Quan said, "It looks like he’s about to lose."

"No, he’s about to win. The one from the Tashi Sect is about to lose," Li Long countered.

’I’ve been watching closely,’ he thought. ’So far, Zhang Ji has only used his Raccoon Claw Skill once, and that was discreetly at the very beginning when he pierced the neck of one of those tin cans.’

’He hasn’t used it since.’

’Zhang Ji has been holding back.’

’If he were to use it now, he could at least force Yu Wanqiu to be more cautious with her kicks.’

’After all, who wouldn’t be scared of having a chunk of flesh torn off with every kick?’

’Even with her leg armor, that thin layer probably couldn’t withstand Zhang Ji’s attack.’

’But Zhang Ji is biding his time, waiting for his opponent to reveal a fatal opening so he can end it in a single strike.’

’Right now, he’s just wearing down her stamina.’

’Zhang Ji is clearly aware that if she stops attacking and they just circle each other, he can’t match her speed.’

’But her stamina is probably lower than his, so this is an excellent strategy.’

...

STOMP! STOMP!

Two deep indentations appeared in the ground. In the next instant, Yu Wanqiu launched herself into the air, spinning her body and whipping her right leg toward Zhang Ji.

Executing leg techniques isn’t like using a Fist Skill.

Usually, a fighter only throws a kick or two at a critical moment.

Kicking means exposing an opening. If the attack doesn’t land, it’s easy to lose one’s balance to a counterattack.

While a master of leg techniques like Yu Wanqiu had done much to mitigate this weakness, it didn’t mean she was completely without openings when she attacked.

And right now, her mid-air spinning side kick exposed her greatest weakness of all.

Zhang Ji bent his knees slightly and leaped straight up into her.

BAM!

Zhang Ji didn’t block the kick with his arms; he took it with his head. He instantly felt several teeth get knocked loose as pain shot from the left side of his face all the way down his neck.

But he had also managed to grab her right leg, his ten fingers digging deep into her thigh. He used his upward momentum to slam her down onto the ground.

THUD!

As they landed, Zhang Ji began raining down punches. With her right leg pinned, Yu Wanqiu bent her left knee to try and push him off, but Zhang Ji didn’t budge. He ignored the searing pain in his own abdomen and smashed his fist into her arm.

A single blow.

CRACK!

The arm Yu Wanqiu had raised to block him was snapped in two.

The next moment, Zhang Ji’s five fingers plunged into her abdomen.

SQUELCH!

Yu Wanqiu’s eyes widened. To maintain her agility, she hadn’t worn heavy armor, only a thin layer of scale mail. It clearly offered no protection against Zhang Ji’s claws.

And now Zhang Ji was tearing her guts out—literally.

THUMP!

A final, desperate kick from his opponent sent Zhang Ji flying, a length of intestine still clutched in his hand.

The repeated kicks had left his own abdomen in excruciating pain. He struggled to his feet and spat out a mouthful of blood and broken teeth, a gruesome sight.

Across from him, Yu Wanqiu could no longer get up. She clutched her stomach, her vacant eyes gazing up at the arena’s dome as if lost in a memory of her past.

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

This time, it was Zhang Ji who charged forward, delivering a vicious kick to Yu Wanqiu’s head.

CRACK! SQUISH!

She went silent, her life flashing before her eyes cut short.

Without a single glance at her body, Zhang Ji clutched his stomach and turned back toward the gate.

"Hmph!"

A cold snort echoed through the arena. For reasons he couldn’t explain, Zhang Ji felt the hair on his arms stand on end, a sense of mortal danger washing over him.