Beep!
The whistle blew.
Xiang Nan and Garo faced each other in the ring, neither making a move. For a moment, they both stood perfectly still.
Spectators around the arena could feel the tense mood and held their breath, not daring to make a sound.
Garo narrowed his eyes, and in a sudden blur, lunged straight at Xiang Nan.
He threw a punch—a lightning-quick straight right.
Xiang Nan tilted his head, remaining calm. Although he dodged the punch, the air pushed by Garo's fist felt almost tangible, leaving the illusion that it had grazed Xiang Nan's cheek.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...
A barrage of forceful blows followed as Garo's impressive footwork kept him glued to Xiang Nan, never giving him the slightest space to pull back. His fists flew so fast they created an afterimage around Xiang Nan's upper body. In just a few seconds, he had unleashed countless punches.
This was a level of ferocity and sharpness none of the previous "top soldiers" had displayed. It was a truly polished fist technique!
Xiang Nan felt a flicker of surprise—this guy could really fight. Soldiers in the military had to learn combat skills, sure, but from Xiang Nan's experience so far, even the best he'd seen were nowhere near this standard. Garo was the exception, as befitted the previous tournament champion.
Still, no matter how densely those fists rained down, not one actually hit Xiang Nan. Compared to Garo's flurry of strikes, Xiang Nan's footwork and evasion skills were on another level. Even in an extremely cramped space, he managed to dodge everything.
Slap!
Garo was trying to overwhelm Xiang Nan from the start with a relentless onslaught, but Xiang Nan calmly slipped two fingers—held like a sword—through an opening in the barrage and jabbed precisely at Garo's armpit. Oddly enough, being struck there didn't slow Garo's attacks at all; in fact, he capitalized on Xiang Nan's brief follow-through to lash out with a counterpunch, aimed right at Xiang Nan's face.
Xiang Nan bent at the waist—narrowly avoiding impact. If Garo's powerful blow had connected, it would have spelled real trouble.
"His battle-readiness is pretty decent," Xiang Nan thought.
He tried stepping back, but Garo closed in again, widening his own stride and picking up speed. He was dead set on denying Xiang Nan any breathing room—clearly aware that in tight quarters, many of Xiang Nan's techniques would be harder to use. That also reduced his own chances of sustaining serious damage.
Under normal circumstances, poking someone's armpit with that much force in precisely the right spot—where the brachial plexus and axillary artery lie—would paralyze the arm with excruciating pain. Yet Garo seemed unfazed. This showed that:
1. His pain tolerance was well beyond ordinary.
2. His body was so tough, he could power through such a strike.
Boom!
Garo slammed a downward punch like a falling cannonball, hitting the ground where Xiang Nan had stood. His entire forearm sank into the dirt, which cracked and caved in from the impact, causing some onlookers to flinch at the raw power. Still no hit on Xiang Nan, though. Despite funneling every ounce of strength into that gambit—cornering Xiang Nan and waiting for the perfect moment—he came up empty.
Xiang Nan merely rose onto the balls of his feet and drifted back again, unhurried.
"How can this be...?" Garo pulled his arm from the dirt, gasping, his face pale.
Opposite him, Xiang Nan started clapping softly. "Your boxing is really solid, but the style itself is confining you. Every move you make follows the framework you learned. No matter how you change up your angles or try to corner me, your rhythm is still boxing's rhythm—singular. Once I adapt to it, all I have to do is outperform it."
Garo froze, not fully grasping Xiang Nan's words.
"And conveniently, I know a bit about boxing too... so I can pretty much tell what you're planning," Xiang Nan added with a smile.
It sounded simple, but without extraordinary insight, pulling that off would be incredibly difficult.
Gritting his teeth, Garo whirled his arms and dove back in. Xiang Nan noticed that his earlier pressure point strike actually had worked—Garo was functioning on brute force alone now. The sweat pouring off his forehead was undeniable proof. Plus, just in this short exchange, Garo's stamina was burning fast, making it harder for him to keep Xiang Nan pinned down.
Clearly, Garo's opening strategy was to rush him, hoping to catch Xiang Nan off-guard and then follow up with that earth-shattering punch. All those fists and moves had been building to that single finishing blow. But it had failed.
Garo's fists kept tearing through thin air or pummeling the ground, throwing dust and chunks of earth everywhere. Meanwhile, any time he lifted his arm, Xiang Nan seized a chance to poke his armpit again. After a few more seconds, even the common soldiers watching could tell Garo's arms looked heavy as lead. Every punch he threw was a monumental effort.
In truth, Xiang Nan had hardly gone on offense at all—just some casual counters. The rest of the time, he dodged as though playing "keep-away," strolling around like it was no big deal.
One second, two seconds... Once Garo showed obvious signs of fatigue, it only took a few more seconds for his arms to give out entirely.
At that point, Garo—his arms limp—stood face-to-face with Xiang Nan, who had suddenly stopped backing up. They locked eyes. Garo was drenched, his undershirt soaked with sweat. No color remained in his face, veins bulging across his forehead. Nobody else knew the agony he was enduring.
"You win," he rasped. Even speaking sounded painfully difficult.
"You're actually quite good." Xiang Nan lifted a hand and patted Garo's shoulder in a tone of praise.
Huh? Why'd he just surrender out of nowhere?
Soldiers in the crowd exchanged confused looks. While they could see Garo was in bad shape, he was still on his feet, wasn't he? Shouldn't he keep fighting?
"Forty-six seconds," Sigma murmured, arms folded. He'd been silently keeping track of time. "When you're up against someone who defies normal logic, holding out that long is a feat, Garo. You did better than I expected," he said quietly.
Of course, Sigma also sensed that Xiang Nan hadn't been serious at all.
In the ring, Xiang Nan turned to leave.
"Wait—!" Garo called out urgently, grimacing in pain.
Xiang Nan paused, glancing back.
"Did I... did I at least give you any enjoyment?" Garo asked intensely, desperation in his eyes.
"Heh." Xiang Nan raised an eyebrow. After a brief silence, he nodded lightly. "Yeah… a little," he said, then walked off.
Garo stared at his departing figure, a crushing sense of defeat rising in his chest. He knew Xiang Nan was lying. A pitying, dismissive reassurance, perhaps…?
He glared, furious with himself.
"Get him to the medical ward ASAP—he's the worst off," Xiang Nan told some nearby medics once he reached the edge of the field.
"Worst off?" They exchanged puzzled looks. Garo didn't appear visibly injured. Where was the severity?
"Uh… why is he crying?" one medic suddenly blurted in shock, spotting two streaks of tears running down Garo's face.
Before anyone could take a closer look, Garo let out a howl of agony—a mix of pain, frustration, and sorrow—then collapsed backward, eyes rolling up into his head.
~~~
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