Infinite Fighting

WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP! RIIIP!

Kratos’s jacket was shredded, and a gash was even torn open in his body armor. God only knew what the other man’s fingers were made of.

Zhang Ji had sharp eyes and could see that Hong Kang’s fingernails had a faint, grayish-black hue.

It looked like some kind of disease, but the color was more like the polished sheen of jade, even reflecting a little light.

’Didn’t Hong Kang say he was from the Eagle Claw Sect earlier?’

’Then he must practice something like the Eagle Claw Skill, right?’

Zhang Ji felt a flicker of desire. If he learned a martial art like that, he would have both offense and defense.

’My technique might be lacking, but it wouldn’t matter.’

’I could just absorb the hits and keep dishing out damage.’

SQUELCH!

Suddenly, two of Hong Kang’s fingers hooked into Kratos’s left arm and tore away a chunk of flesh.

In an instant, Kratos’s movements faltered badly.

Hong Kang pressed his advantage, landing several more claw strikes on Kratos’s arms and leaving behind more gashes.

If Kratos hadn’t been wearing body armor, one of those earlier strikes would have torn his chest wide open.

After a few more exchanges, Hong Kang seized Kratos by the neck. Kratos’s arms were too damaged to raise and knock the man’s hand away.

"I’ve lost," Kratos said weakly. "It seems you haven’t neglected your skills over the years. Do it!"

"Stop!"

Wu Chen and his men tensed, immediately drawing their guns and aiming at Hong Kang.

Hong Kang’s men raised their own weapons in response, ready to open fire at the slightest provocation.

"Don’t shoot," Kratos called out. "And don’t avenge me. These are our rules. I lost."

He was still a Martial Artist. He still remembered the rules—civilized or not—and deep down, he upheld them.

He even felt a sense of relief, dying this way.

A smirk touched Hong Kang’s lips, his fingers about to clench tight.

"Stop!" Zhang Ji suddenly called out.

Hong Kang turned to look at Zhang Ji.

"I’ll fight you," Zhang Ji said. "If I win, Kratos lives! Aren’t those your rules?"

’I can’t let Kratos die so carelessly.’

’If Kratos dies, what will happen to me?’

’Should I throw in my lot with this Hong Kang?’

’Would he even trust me?’

’Could he give me the same treatment Kratos did?’

Hong Kang looked at Zhang Ji and said, "A contest of skill, a battle to the death."

"A contest of skill, a battle to the death!" Zhang Ji nodded slightly.

He could faintly feel a fire igniting in his blood.

’Perhaps I was born for this, born to crave battle!’

Hong Kang casually tossed Kratos aside. Wu Chen and his men quickly rushed over to help him up.

Zhang Ji took off his helmet and walked to where Kratos had been standing.

The expressions on the faces of Wu Chen and Kratos changed, each in their own way.

Kratos, in particular, had a very complicated look in his eyes.

He never dreamed that a casual act of his in the past would lead to this very scene.

Wu Chen, too, couldn’t believe that after all his years of training, he was no match for someone who had only been practicing martial arts for less than two months.

"Do you need a moment to rest?" Zhang Ji asked Hong Kang.

’He knew that if he let Hong Kang recover, he would be facing a much stronger opponent.’

But he said it anyway.

’Bullying the weak wasn’t what he craved.’

’What he craved was to challenge the strong!’

Zhang Ji was following his instincts, acting on his desires.

"Interesting," Hong Kang laughed. "No need."

With that, he gave Zhang Ji a slight bow with cupped fists.

Zhang Ji returned the gesture.

SHING!

The sound of the Eagle Claw tearing through the air was followed by a strike aimed straight at Zhang Ji’s neck.

It was noticeably faster and more vicious than before.

Having seen the gruesome state Kratos was in, Zhang Ji didn’t dare block with his arms and could only retreat.

SHING! SHING! SHING!

After three consecutive strikes, on the fourth, Zhang Ji had no more room to retreat and had to raise his arm to block.

SKRRRT!

The sleeve on his left arm was torn open, revealing three red welts from which beads of blood began to seep.

Still, it was far better than having a chunk of flesh torn off like Kratos.

Zhang Ji seized the opportunity to ram forward with his right elbow.

But he hit nothing but air. Hong Kang was far too experienced; once a strike landed, he immediately dodged his opponent’s counterattack, never overextending himself.

Retreating to a safe distance, Hong Kang looked at Zhang Ji and said, "So it’s you. Zhao Kui has some tricks up his sleeve, secretly training a disciple like you."

Things that hadn’t made sense before were starting to click into place for Hong Kang.

However, he never would have guessed that Zhang Ji had achieved his level of Horizontal Training Power in just a little over a month.

He assumed Zhang Ji was a secret weapon Kratos had been cultivating in the shadows all this time.

Zhang Ji touched his left arm, feeling the wetness.

DRIP!

Blood seeped through, dripping onto the ground.

Zhang Ji’s eyes lit up.

He looked at Hong Kang across from him.

’He could feel it.’

’For the first time since coming to this world, he felt truly alive!’

"Again!"

The word was barely out of his mouth before Zhang Ji charged at Hong Kang.

WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH!

Zhang Ji’s attacks had little form; he just punched, again and again.

But Hong Kang didn’t dare to block them head-on. He could only evade, occasionally using skillful deflections to redirect Zhang Ji’s fists and arms.

Even so, he could feel that the force behind them was beyond his imagination.

’They say youth holds the advantage in a fistfight, but this is ridiculous!’

Zhang Ji’s movements were wild and open, and soon Hong Kang found a flaw, his claw striking Zhang Ji’s right arm.

It felt like striking thick, smooth leather or a hard stone slate; it was difficult to get any purchase.

SQUELCH!

Several bloody gashes appeared, but Zhang Ji seized the opening to spin around and throw a punch.

BAM!

Hong Kang was sent flying back two meters. After landing, he stumbled back three more steps before managing to steady himself.

The sleeves on Zhang Ji’s arms were in tatters. Blood dripped from his lowered fists to the ground, his eyes filled with aggression.

Hong Kang took two deep breaths, touched his chest, and once again assumed his fighting stance before taking the initiative and charging forward.

SHING! SHING! SHING!

He unleashed a flurry of claw strikes, all aimed at Zhang Ji’s face and neck. Hong Kang knew how to trade injury for injury as well.

In fact, he could target Zhang Ji’s vital points with even greater precision.

Faced with such an onslaught, Zhang Ji could either block with his arms or evade.

Brute force could overcome superior technique, that was true, but if he landed a punch on Hong Kang, Hong Kang’s claws could simultaneously tear open his neck and sever an artery.

Zhang Ji’s arms were already a bloody mess. Even though his defense was higher than Kratos’s, the wounds were getting dangerously close to the bone.

CLANG! PFFT!

Zhang Ji retreated near a rusty water pipe. Hong Kang’s claws easily tore it open, sending water spraying everywhere.

Only that kind of claw strength could so easily pierce Zhang Ji’s fully mastered Iron Shirt Skill.

"You’re getting slower!" Zhang Ji suddenly said during a gap in the assault.

Kratos was no amateur. By fighting him first and then arrogantly taking on an expert of the same caliber—or perhaps even stronger—like Zhang Ji, Hong Kang was finally starting to run out of stamina.

SHING! SHING!

The response to Zhang Ji’s taunt was two claw strikes, thrown with renewed strength.

But both strikes hit nothing but air.

Missing with a full-power attack meant leaving a massive opening.

’Zhang Ji had seen how Kratos handled a situation like this before.’

’Step in, straight punch!’

WHOOSH!

BAM! CRACK!

The punch landed squarely on Hong Kang’s chest, shattering several ribs instantly. His body was thrown backward, and after landing, he stumbled two steps before collapsing to the ground, blood already spilling from the corner of his mouth.

Although a Martial Artist’s body is durable, Hong Kang’s was only slightly tougher than an ordinary person’s—at most comparable to the third level of the Iron Shirt Skill. This one punch was enough to severely injure him and take him out of the fight.

In fact, if Kratos had managed to land a single solid punch on Hong Kang earlier, it would have been more than enough to incapacitate him.

Hong Kang struggled to get up, but failed.

As Zhang Ji stepped forward, Hong Kang’s men quickly drew their guns on him. Wu Chen reacted instantly, preparing for a firefight.

"We’re even!"

Instead of making another move, Zhang Ji simply said that.

Kratos had lost, but Hong Kang hadn’t killed him. Now Zhang Ji had won, and he wouldn’t kill Hong Kang. It made them even.