Chapter Fifty-Seven: Zhang Yang Faces Ling Ju

At this moment, the arena was filled with deafening cheers. As both teams stood atop the platform, the monsters in the audience roared with wild excitement, as if unleashing years of pent-up frustration all at once.

“Crush the Six-Freaks Team! I’m rooting for you!”
“Die, Qin Xiaochuan’s team! Who gave you the right to stand here?”
“Tear them to pieces, Six-Freaks! Go for it!”
“Kill them for me!”
“Make Qin Xiaochuan’s team die! You trash!”
“Die, Qin Xiaochuan’s team!”
. . .

“Alright, would the representatives from each team please step forward?” As both teams ascended the platform, Miss Lingling, the announcer, began to explain the rules. “As the guests of honor in our first match, please send forth your team captains to set the terms. You may choose between one-on-one or group combat. The team with more victors will win the round. Captains, please come forward…”

Yan from the Six-Freaks Team looked to his teammates and stepped up. Although Lingju was both their captain and teammate, that role had only been assigned by drawing lots. In terms of strength alone, Yan was undoubtedly the team’s ace.

As the opposing captain stepped forward, Zhang Yang grew anxious, glancing at Qin Xiaochuan, who was still sound asleep. “Qin Xiaochuan’s still asleep! What do we do about the captain?”

“Then let Zhang Yang take his place as temporary captain,” Bai Ying decided.

“Oh, me? Heh, you mean me? Bai Ying, though I’ve always thought as much myself, I suppose I’ll have to reluctantly accept the honor!” Embarrassed but inwardly delighted at Bai Ying’s nomination, Zhang Yang entrusted the still-sleeping Qin Xiaochuan to Bai Ying and strode forward to face Yan.

“So you’re the captain? You don’t look the part at all,” Yan remarked coldly, arms folded. It was clear he had little respect for Zhang Yang’s abilities. Yesterday, when he'd sliced through a coffee cup in their room with ease, Zhang Yang hadn’t even reacted. And now this guy was their captain? Was this team really as formidable as Mr. Yoshida claimed?

“Enough talk! Whatever trick you used to get into my room yesterday, you’ll pay for your recklessness today!”

“Haha! Big words. I don’t care how I finish you, but I do prefer a slow, one-on-one ordeal. What do you think?”

“Fine. A battle between men should be one-on-one.”

“Are we agreed, then?”

“Agreed. Referee?”

“I’m here. So, both captains have agreed?” Lingling confirmed. “Very well! After negotiation, the match will proceed as one-on-one battles. Please return to your viewing areas and select your first fighters. Prepare yourselves!”

After Lingling’s announcement, Zhang Yang carried Qin Xiaochuan down to the viewing seats, intending to let him rest there. The guy had been sleeping ever since they’d boarded, nearly twelve hours now. Surely, he’d wake up soon.

But as Zhang Yang turned to leave, a wave of searing demonic energy rushed over him.

“Whoa, who’s provoking with this scorching aura? Are you trying to roast me alive?” He turned to see Yan staring at them with ill intent; the burning aura was clearly his doing. Sensing Yan’s destructive energy, even Bai Ying broke into a cold sweat. That icy gaze and all-consuming aura—was this guy really from the human world?

Yet even as Yan unleashed such power, Qin Xiaochuan remained asleep. Yan found it odd; perhaps the sleeper was truly an idiot, unable to sense such a presence.

Once back at their seats, the Six-Freaks Team sent Lingju as their vanguard—a small but formidable fighter. On Qin Xiaochuan’s side, Zhang Yang eagerly stepped up as the first challenger. Being entrusted with the team’s fate had him excited; now was his chance to prove himself.

“Alright, the first match will be Lingju of the Six-Freaks Team versus Zhang Yang of Qin Xiaochuan’s team!” Lingling announced with gusto. “The rules are simple: aside from being one-on-one, there are no restrictions. Weapons and items are allowed. If a fighter is knocked from the ring or downed, the count begins. If they remain down for ten seconds, the match ends. Are the rules clear?”

“Heh, understood!”

“Got it!”

“Very well—begin!”

At the referee’s signal, Lingju didn’t rush in. Instead, he closely observed the curly-haired opponent before him. Was this really their captain? He hadn’t retaliated at all to yesterday’s provocations. Was he the weakest one? Or just playing a role?

“What are you staring at, kid? Attack from anywhere you like, I don’t mind,” Zhang Yang taunted, waving his hand.

“Heh, alright, then I won’t hold back!” At that, Lingju sprang into rapid motion around Zhang Yang, moving with impressive speed and agility. Afterimages flickered near Zhang Yang—a testament to Lingju’s velocity. “How’s that, mop-head? Can your eyes keep up?”

Just as Lingju was feeling proud of his speed, Zhang Yang abruptly appeared before him, moving even faster. “Take this, kid! My name’s Zhang Yang, not mop-head—remember it!” With that, Zhang Yang landed a punch, knocking Lingju to the ground, then bouncing him up into the air. As Lingju righted himself and dove back down, Zhang Yang dodged nimbly aside and landed a spinning kick, sending Lingju flying once more. His face filled with disbelief, Lingju managed to stop himself with a hand-brake slide, then launched himself low along the ground for a counterattack—now fully awakened by the blows he’d received.

This was a battlefield of life and death. Every fighter here was determined to win. Underestimating an opponent—like Lingju had—could be fatal. For all his usual bluster, Zhang Yang became a different person in combat; his speed and instincts transformed. Humbled, Lingju gathered his full strength and charged low, aiming for a decisive blow from below.

Twice in quick succession, Zhang Yang had bested Lingju, and the audience would not have it.

“You idiot, Lingju! Are you useless? That was pathetic!”

“Yeah, if you’re that weak, let Yan take over! You’re just embarrassing the team, loser!”

“Get off the stage already!”

Listening to the crowd, Bai Ying, watching from the sidelines, exhaled in relief. “These people are so fickle. It’s not that Lingju is weak—Zhang Yang has gotten stronger…”

“Really?” Fei, beside her, was doubtful.

Bai Ying explained, “Don’t be fooled by how unassuming Zhang Yang seems. In actual combat, he reveals his true strength. He’s always been a puzzle. When I trained with him, there were times when, just as he was about to pass out, he’d suddenly push me to my limit. Maybe the real Zhang Yang only comes out on the battlefield.”

“That idiot’s still toying with Lingju. Might as well finish him with the dual swords—this is just wasting my time!”

“…”

After sending Lingju flying once again, Zhang Yang pursued. He’d already gauged Lingju’s speed, and the next move would be his finishing blow. Closing in behind Lingju, Zhang Yang raised his right fist to strike him down. If this landed, not even Qin Xiaochuan could get up from it, let alone Lingju. But just as the blow fell, Lingju’s figure vanished.

“Heh, enjoyed yourself?” Lingju had slipped behind Zhang Yang. The earlier hits had merely been bait for this trap. Now that Zhang Yang had fallen for it, Lingju lashed out, kicking Zhang Yang hard in the left cheek. The blow was vicious, sending Zhang Yang sprawling across the platform and sliding back over ten meters. Lingju’s kick had landed with full force.

As Zhang Yang lay motionless, Miss Lingling began the count. “One… two… three…”

“Heh, no need to count, referee. I’ve already broken his neck; he won’t be getting up again,” Lingju boasted, hands behind his head. “How’s that? My baiting tactics worked perfectly. I let you taste a little success, then you got cocky. Not so tough now, are you?”