Chapter 87: Arena Competition

Chapter 87: Chapter 87: Arena Competition

"Challenging the hall? Just you?" The bald man’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"That’s right, just me." Ye Xing nodded.

"Brother Xing, that’s Wu Qiang, the head of the Changchun Martial Arts Hall! A real National Martial Arts expert! This... this... you... how could you..." Zhu Dazhuang grew anxious. ’Didn’t we agree to come here to reason with them? Wouldn’t it be better to calm down and have a nice talk? How did this suddenly turn into a challenge?’

However, Ye Xing was unmoved, clearly dead set on challenging the hall. Ye Xing had indeed come to reason with them, but not with his words. He was prepared to reason with his fists. With some people, fists were much more effective than words. ’Beat them up first, then we can talk.’

"You’ve got guts, daring to challenge the hall all by yourself! Bold enough. In that case, I’ll play along!" said the bald man, Wu Qiang. His politeness toward Ye Xing wasn’t out of fear, but because the strength Ye Xing had just displayed commanded his respect—the kind of respect reserved for the strong.

Ye Xing set down the red-haired youth with the coxcomb hairstyle. The young man clutched his throat, gasping violently. He took huge gulps of air, and only after a while did the crimson flush on his face begin to fade. Wu Qiang shot him a look, and the youth scrambled away, not daring to stay a moment longer.

"You may be here to challenge us, but a challenge is still a type of match!" Wu Qiang said in a low voice. "According to our hall’s rules, the two of us will go up on the platform for a one-on-one..."

"Whatever," Ye Xing said nonchalantly. "You can all come at me together."

"All together?" Wu Qiang narrowed his eyes. "You mean we can gang up on you?"

"That’s right, a group fight," Ye Xing said coolly. "Except it won’t be you ganging up on me. It’ll be me ganging up on all of you."

"Arrogant!" Wu Qiang snorted, a hint of anger instantly appearing on his face.

The members of the martial arts hall around them glared at him with angry eyes.

"This kid is so arrogant! He thinks he’s so tough just because he has a little brute force!"

"Exactly! Who does he think he is, a National Martial Arts Grandmaster?"

"So what if he’s a National Martial Arts Grandmaster? ’Even a master can be beaten to death by a flurry of random punches.’ Even a Grandmaster would be killed if mobbed, and he wants to take on all of us!"

"Haha, if we all attack together, we’ll beat him so bad his own mother wouldn’t recognize him."

"How dare this kid look down on us!"

"I bet this kid just has a bit of brute strength. A few of our hall’s experienced combat instructors could take him down."

"Brother Qiang, let me take him on," a square-faced man with muscles that were nearly bursting through his shirt said as he stepped forward.

"Alright. Be careful. Don’t underestimate him," Wu Qiang said after a moment’s thought.

"Mhm!" The square-faced man nodded and, with a single leap, jumped onto the platform. His seemingly clumsy body was surprisingly agile; you could tell at a glance that he was a seasoned practitioner.

"Brother Xing, let’s not fight! This... this... we should just go back!" Zhu Dazhuang pleaded anxiously.

"It’s fine, don’t worry," Ye Xing said, then pushed off the ground with both feet and leaped onto the platform as well.

The two opponents faced off on the platform, while below, the crowd buzzed with noisy, chaotic discussion.

"Abin, take him out!"

"Abin, that kid’s pretty strong! Don’t go head-to-head with him!"

"What are you worried about? Coach Yu Bin is a very experienced fighter. He’ll probably take that kid down in a few rounds."

"Knock him flat! How dare he challenge our hall! Show him what the Changchun Martial Arts Hall is made of!"

The members of the martial arts hall below jeered and shouted. The square-faced man, Yu Bin, was very strong, ranking in the top three among the instructors. Few in the hall were his match. Therefore, with him stepping up, many were confident in him. They believed Coach Yu Bin could definitely defeat Ye Xing and protect the reputation of the Changchun Martial Arts Hall.

"Don’t start just yet. I’ll announce the two rules of the match: First, no attacking the groin, eyes, or other areas that could cause permanent injury. Second, the one who voluntarily concedes or is knocked down and cannot get up loses, at which point the match ends," Wu Qiang announced gravely.

"Fine," Ye Xing nodded.

"Good. Then the match will begin after I count to three!" With that, Wu Qiang began to count, his voice booming, "Get ready! Three, two, one, begin!"

The moment his voice faded, the square-faced man, who could no longer wait, rushed forward. He wanted to teach the insolent Ye Xing a harsh lesson. He took several quick steps, swung his arm, and sent a fist smashing directly toward Ye Xing’s face.

The move was fast and simple. Though it lacked any profound techniques, its strength lay in its direct and ferocious nature.

The fist whistled through the air with considerable power.

However, in Ye Xing’s eyes, his opponent’s movements were far too slow—as slow as a three-year-old throwing a punch. Ye Xing casually sidestepped, effortlessly dodging the blow. Then he lifted his leg for a sweeping kick, his movement as fast as lightning, striking first despite moving second. The crowd below barely saw what happened before Ye Xing’s leg whipped into the square-faced man’s waist.

The next moment, the square-faced man’s waist caved inward, and his body flew backward like a broken sack. With a THUD, he crashed heavily off the platform. His vision went black, and he passed out.

Defeated in a single move!

The clamorous, noisy martial arts hall fell silent in an instant. The only sound around the quiet platform was the occasional sharp intake of breath. Was the coach, Yu Bin, strong? Of course, he was. The speed and power of his punch had been absolutely ferocious. The members of the hall had been about to cheer for him, but now they had to swallow their excited shouts.

Everyone stared in utter shock, their eyes filled with disbelief. The powerful Coach Yu Bin had actually lost. And he’d been defeated in a single move, not even lasting one round. ’This... How is this possible?’

"Quick, go see if Abin is alright!" Wu Qiang ordered hastily. A few people who were close by quickly ran over to check on the square-faced man’s injuries.

"Brother Qiang, Abin’s not seriously hurt. He probably just fainted," one of them reported after checking his injuries. They then splashed some mineral water on the square-faced man’s face, and he gradually regained consciousness. His waist was in excruciating pain, however, and he couldn’t get up yet.

"It seems you have real skill!" Wu Qiang said, his gaze fixed solemnly on Ye Xing.

"Cut the crap. I’m in a hurry. Let’s continue," Ye Xing said coolly.

"Alright, then I’ll be the one to trade blows with you!" Wu Qiang said, pushing off the ground and leaping onto the platform.

As Wu Qiang mounted the platform, the morale of the previously dejected hall members instantly soared. They began to clamor and shout once more. This made Zhu Dazhuang, who had just breathed a sigh of relief, tense up all over again.

Although Ye Xing had demonstrated incredible strength, Wu Qiang was no weakling either. As the head of the Changchun Martial Arts Hall, Wu Qiang was a battle-hardened veteran. He was extremely formidable in both National Martial Arts and free-form combat, far beyond what the other instructors in the hall could compare to.

The martial arts hall’s training hours were evenings from Monday to Friday, and all day on weekends. From Monday to Friday, not many people came, as the students were either at work or in class. Even on nights they were free, they sometimes needed to rest or do homework. Therefore, the weekends saw the most people coming to the hall to practice. Today happened to be Sunday, and it was now eight in the morning. Students were beginning to arrive one after another. Some were office workers in their twenties, others were middle and high school students in their teens. They came to the hall either to build up their bodies or because they were martial arts fanatics with a passionate love for the art.

These students all carried their training uniforms in small plastic bags as they stepped through the entrance. As soon as they entered, their attention was captured by the scene on the hall’s platform.

And so, a crowd began to form below the platform, bustling and noisy. In no time, several dozen people—a mix of instructors and students—had gathered around.