Chapter Fifty-Eight: Unleashing the Results of Special Training

Just as the referee counted to eight, Zhang Yang braced himself on the ground and struggled to his feet. Blood from his forehead had stained half his face crimson—a sign that the blow he’d taken was no minor injury. “Who are you calling a broken-necked weakling?” Clutching his bleeding wound, Zhang Yang’s face was twisted in fury. “Trying to play tricks on me? Next, I’ll make you suffer a punishment ten thousand times more brutal!”

“What an intense battle!” Seeing Zhang Yang stand up, commentator Ling Ling grew excited. The previous flurry of blows had been so fast she could barely follow the action. Yet now Zhang Yang, after falling, was back on his feet, and this reversal gave her ample time to narrate the unfolding drama. “On one side, psychological warfare catches his opponent off guard; on the other, a refusal to yield and an unbreakable fighting spirit. From the very start, this match has been a feast for the eyes. Let’s cheer for the spirit of these two contenders!”

“Go to hell, trash from Qin Xiaochuan’s team!”

“Ling Ju, are you hungry or something? Why are you so weak-handed?”

“Hurry up and finish him off!”

...

“To be honest, I was a bit careless just now,” Zhang Yang said, his eyes burning as he glared at Ling Ju. “But even with your full-force attack, you didn’t break my neck. Looks like your strength isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Ling Ju chuckled at Zhang Yang’s provocation. “Is that so? If my fists can’t kill you, then it’s time to show you my real skills.” With a sly grin, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a toy resembling a yo-yo. “Demon Ball! Heh heh.”

“Oh, so you’re finally bringing out your real skills?” Zhang Yang grew serious at the sight of the Demon Ball in Ling Ju’s hand. Spiritual energy flickered in his palms, and two spirit swords materialized. “Let me finish this fight with my dual swords!”

“Just you wait!” Ling Ju replied, and with a flick of his wrists, eight Demon Balls spun out, splitting into two groups as they attacked Zhang Yang. From the ground and the air, the Demon Balls rolled and soared toward him. Zhang Yang raised his spirit swords and slashed at the balls, which seemed slow enough to be easily destroyed. But as he swung down, the Demon Balls on the ground suddenly leaped up, and those from above twisted mid-air, evading his swords and striking him directly.

“How can this be?” Zhang Yang was stunned—the Demon Balls moved like snakes, weaving past his swords and hitting him squarely.

“Hey, idiot! Did you think my Demon Balls were just ordinary yo-yos? Heh heh, these are demon tools infused with my own demonic energy.” Ling Ju spun a Demon Ball in his palm, and sparks flew as it scraped across the arena floor under his power. “These tools are far stronger than my fists. How’s that? Feeling the pain yet, heh heh!”

“Incredible!” Ling Ling exclaimed to the audience, watching as Ling Ju’s Demon Balls slipped through Zhang Yang’s dual swords like snakes. “It appears Zhang Yang is down for the count again. Zhang Yang, are you alright? I’m about to start the countdown... 1... 2...”

...

“Damn you!” Zhang Yang gritted his teeth, clutching the spot where he’d been struck. He stood up with fierce determination. Though hit by the Demon Balls, his spiritual senses saved his life at the last moment. When the yo-yo bounced up from the ground, he sensed danger, twisting his body to expose only his side, avoiding a direct hit to his vital organs. Yet even so, the force of the Demon Balls left his side numb—he hadn’t expected such power from this small device.

“Heh heh, see that?” Ling Ju realized this curly-haired opponent was tougher than any he’d faced. Most contenders surrendered after being hit by the Demon Balls, but this one could still stand after a full-force attack. He needed to apply psychological pressure to break Zhang Yang’s spirit. “Each of these eight Demon Balls is infused with my entire demonic energy—they can attack from any direction. Watch, like this!” Ling Ju manipulated the Demon Balls, which moved like eight spiritual serpents under his control, threatening Zhang Yang with snake-like gestures. His mastery over the balls was so precise they moved as if extensions of his fingers.

Seeing Zhang Yang’s astonished expression, Ling Ju knew the time was right. He sent the Demon Balls out again, four rolling along the ground, four soaring overhead. Sensing trouble, Zhang Yang leapt in the opposite direction, but the balls seemed to possess their own intelligence, adjusting their trajectory to flank him from above and below, striking his stomach and back. Zhang Yang collapsed, clearly suffering severe injuries. As he tried to push himself up, he suddenly felt his hands and feet bound and began to rise slowly into the air.

“Amazing!” Ling Ling narrated, “The Demon Balls have lifted the 180-centimeter Zhang Yang off the ground—what terrifying demonic power!”

“How about a scenic tour around the arena?” Before Zhang Yang could respond, Ling Ju spun the fine threads of the Demon Ball, swinging Zhang Yang’s body through the air, then smashing him violently onto the ground, only to hoist him up and batter him again and again like a toy.

“Kill him, Ling Ju, well done!”

“Show no mercy, Ling Ju—slam him into a meat patty and fry him!”

...

Watching Zhang Yang being tossed around in midair, Fei Yan turned to Bai Ying beside him. “That guy’s done for. Looks like your secret training with him was a waste.”

“No... he hasn’t used the results of the training yet!” Bai Ying wasn’t worried, hands in his pockets, watching the match intently. His confidence in Zhang Yang was clearly greater than Fei Yan’s.

...

“What a sturdy fellow!” Ling Ju wiped sweat from his brow, seeing Zhang Yang still stubbornly staring back after being slammed at least a dozen times. Manipulating the Demon Balls to batter Zhang Yang had cost him considerable spiritual energy. “Now I’ll send you higher—let’s see if you can get up this time.” Ling Ju controlled the threads, raising Zhang Yang ever higher. He planned to drop Zhang Yang from mid-air, ensuring that even if he didn’t die, the earth’s gravity would shatter his organs—if not fatal, then certainly crippling.

“Look, isn’t that Zhang Yang? How did he get so high?” On the spectator stands, Su Su shaded her eyes, peering at Zhang Yang suspended above. “If he falls from that height, he’ll surely die!”

“That’s why I didn’t want to bring you to such a bloody event,” complained the handsome young Yan Wang beside her. “But you wouldn’t listen. If you see blood, don’t cry—I didn’t bring any tissues.”

“Isn’t that Xiaochuan?” Su Su spotted Qin Xiaochuan napping below in the audience. “Hey, Xiaochuan, you heartless guy! Your classmate Zhang Yang is about to be smashed to death and you’re still sleeping! Get up!”

“Hey hey! You’re so noisy! Quiet down!”

“Yeah, this woman’s voice is so loud—don’t you see we’re watching the match? Do you know how expensive these tickets are? Disturb my mood and I’ll eat you!”

“What, so monsters are supposed to be special?” Su Su retorted, facing down a hulking monster who stood beside her. “Our Xiaochuan has died once already—when he wakes up, he’ll take you down! Stop yelling, will you?”

“Stupid woman, you must be tired of living!” A horned, four-armed monster leaned down, drooling as he stuck out his tongue to scare Su Su. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll eat you!”

Jing Chu, holding a smoldering cigarette, pressed the burning tip to the monster’s tongue, sending him clutching his mouth and running to the restroom. Was this a woman or a devil? The surrounding monsters, seeing Jing Chu calmly light another cigarette, turned their attention back to the arena—who knew what would happen if they crossed her? Better to just watch the match.

By now, Zhang Yang was suspended at a terrifying height. If he fell, he’d be smashed flat. Seeing that he’d risen enough, Ling Ju grinned, retracted the eight Demon Balls, apparently eager to see what would become of Zhang Yang when he dropped.

Without the Demon Balls supporting him, Zhang Yang plummeted toward the arena floor. Just before impact, he stretched out his right hand, and a spirit sword shot from his palm, stabbing into the ground. The sword cushioned his fall, stopping him abruptly, and Zhang Yang used its spiritual energy to launch himself horizontally like a cannonball toward Ling Ju—a tactic he’d used against the White Tiger, one of the Four Sacred Beasts, but this time with even greater agility.