Kitchen Utensil Weapons

The knockout rounds were far more elaborate. The arenas used artificial environments, including deserts, forests, attics, snowfields, and more. The varied settings put a martial artist's ability to adapt to the test. As the martial arts master who had first established the rule put it, only primitive people would beat each other up on a small, flat patch of ground.

Both contestants could use weapons, but they had to use the standard weapons provided by the organizers. If only one side chose to use a weapon, the other had the right to choose the arena.

In the Strong Ones' Martial Arts League, fighters with deep cultivation could clash head-on with divine weapons using their bare palms, making standard weapons almost useless. But for young people whose cultivation was insufficient, having a weapon clearly improved their odds of winning. As the saying went, an inch longer meant an inch stronger. An ordinary person with a cleaver or a brick could thoroughly defeat another ordinary person of equal ability.

Once the drawing began, Si Ming and the other three went up in turn to draw their match numbers.

"Match fifty-two. I'll have to wait until tomorrow to fight."

Murong Qing glanced at the number in her hand. Her tone carried a hint of regret, but also a sense of relief.

"Forty-three. Tomorrow too," Ying Zhou said succinctly.

"Oh, I'm in the sixth match! It's tonight, and I'm in the first group! You have to come cheer me on!"

Zhong Lingxiu spoke happily, showing none of the nervousness one might expect from someone about to fight.

Si Ming glanced at his number and said, "I'm in the eighteenth match, also tonight, but I'm in the third group. I can watch the others fight first."

After everyone had drawn their lots, the official called out, "Would the martial artists in the first group please come up to the stage to decide on your weapons and arenas?"

"I'll go up first. You have to come watch my match!"

After reminding the three of them, Zhong Lingxiu bounced up onto the stage.

Si Ming watched her receding figure and said to Murong Qing, "Zhong Lingxiu doesn't seem to have the desire for victory you talked about either. She only entered because she thought it would be fun. She's like I was before: she wants to test her own abilities, not necessarily win the championship."

"That's why she definitely can't win the championship!" Murong Qing said with absolute certainty. "Unless her strength gives her an overwhelming advantage over others her age, she can't make it past the fourth round. That's the dividing line. Anyone without a firm resolve to win will be eliminated before that round."

The big screen displayed the names of the twelve martial artists in the first group, along with some very brief introductions. Zhong Lingxiu's opponent was an unremarkable little fatty named Fan Jianqiang. He had a perfectly ordinary face, and there was nothing in his appearance to suggest what martial arts he was good at.

"Hello! I'm choosing to use a weapon. Would you like to choose the arena, or use a weapon like me?"

Zhong Lingxiu greeted Fan Jianqiang openly and easily.

But the little fatty didn't answer immediately. He stared at Zhong Lingxiu in a daze for a while, only coming to his senses after the official reminded him a second time. Flustered, he replied, "I won't use a weapon. My bare hands are enough. You can decide on the arena."

Zhong Lingxiu giggled. "I'd like to, but the rules won't allow it."

Fan Jianqiang's face turned red. "I, I won't use a weapon. Let's make the arena a forest."

There were generally two factors to consider when choosing an arena: helping oneself and hindering one's opponent. A forest satisfied the second condition. As long as an opponent used a long weapon, the trees would inevitably get in the way, making it difficult for them to use their full strength.

The other groups finished their discussions one after another. Six referees then led each group of contestants to their respective arenas. All six had long, steady breaths and were clearly skilled martial artists themselves. Besides determining victory and defeat, they were also responsible for the contestants' safety, intervening at crucial moments to block deadly attacks and prevent fatalities.

Si Ming and the others naturally chose to watch Zhong Lingxiu's fight. The rectangular forest arena was about the size of four basketball courts. It was planted with both maple trees four or five meters tall and shrubs less than half a meter high. The lush growth made movement difficult and could easily obstruct one's view.

"At a time like this, I really want to shout, 'I choose you, Bulbasaur!' and throw a two-hundred-yuan red-and-white ball."

Looking at the arena, Si Ming felt an indescribable sense of déjà vu. Still, he knew the ones about to fight weren't Pokémon, but humans.

"But I think in the special series, they just have Pokémon attack the trainers directly. That's brutal. I wonder if it'd be against the rules the other way around, if a trainer learned martial arts and went in to beat up a Pokémon directly..."

While Si Ming's thoughts wandered, a gong sounded, and the fight between Zhong Lingxiu and Fan Jianqiang began.

Fan Jianqiang wasn't skilled in lightness techniques, so he simply stood between two large trees and took a defensive stance, waiting at ease for his opponent to come to him.

Zhong Lingxiu clearly wasn't a super-strong little girl. Her nimble movements matched her build as she darted through the forest like a yellow mouse using Quick Attack. Her chosen weapons weren't the usual sabers, swords, spears, or staffs, but a comparatively rare pair of rings.

The weapons provided by the organizers were all made of ironwood. The wood was so dense that it would sink straight to the bottom of a lake, and it was as hard as iron. But it wasn't metal, after all. A blow to the body would only cause blunt trauma, not cut someone in two.

As Zhong Lingxiu ran, she kept adjusting her grip on the rings, seemingly to get used to their feel and weight. After approaching her opponent, she didn't rush to attack, but circled him instead.

Fan Jianqiang took a deep breath. Rather than turning with her, he chose to meet all changes by remaining unchanged.

Suddenly, having grown accustomed to the feel of her weapons, Zhong Lingxiu threw the ring in her right hand. It curved through the air, sweeping around from the side to strike the back of Fan Jianqiang's head.

"Hah!"

Fan Jianqiang located it by sound and used Elephant Swings Its Trunk, forming a hammer with one hand and knocking the ring flying.

A ribbon was wrapped around the ring. Zhong Lingxiu gave it a gentle pull, drawing the ring back to her side. That probing attack had given her a measure of her opponent, so she summoned her power and sent both rings flashing in an assault like Pin Missile.

The trees weren't much of an obstacle to unusual mid-range weapons like the rings. Instead, they made the attacks somewhat harder to see.

Fan Jianqiang fought steadily and wasn't shaken. He kept knocking the attacks aside with his arms, and when he couldn't avoid a blow, he took it head-on with a non-vital part of his body.

The ironwood rings struck him with dull thuds, like drumsticks hitting a stone mill. They bounced back without leaving so much as a mark. He was clearly proficient in a body-tempering martial art.

The fight soon reached a stalemate. Although Zhong Lingxiu held a firm advantage and could attack at will, Fan Jianqiang looked every bit the thick-skinned fighter who could take a beating, holding his defense steady. Her attacks were swift, but they couldn't do him any real harm.

"An assassin's run into a shield soldier. This is going to take a while. This Fan fellow's moves aren't much—they're all basic martial arts taught in school—but his internal cultivation is good, at least level five. Add his body-tempering skills, and he cultivates both inside and out. Breaking through his defense really won't be easy," Si Ming said, assessing the two fighters.

Murong Qing nodded in agreement. "Lingxiu's weapons are the nimble type too. Their destructive power is nothing special, nowhere near that of a saber or spear. Against a turtle shell like that, she really has nowhere to start. She's met her nemesis. If she can't smash through his defense before her strength drops a level, she'll have no choice but to concede."

Fights between teenagers were generally at this level. They often stood out in one particular area but had accomplished nothing in others, unable to achieve balance and showing obvious signs of being "strong in some subjects and weak in others." Even if they knew they had weaknesses, they wouldn't make up for them; they had neither the inclination nor the time.

Primary and secondary schools had always trained young people by playing to their strengths and avoiding their weaknesses. They never wasted time on areas an individual wasn't good at, instead focusing entirely on developing what they did well. Only after they entered university would they gradually make up for their shortcomings.

Trying to address weaknesses too early would only delay the development of their strengths and waste their talent, leaving students mediocre, with no outstanding qualities to show for themselves.

As the saying went, experts watched for skill, while laymen watched for excitement. Although one side was attacking and the other defending, Zhong Lingxiu and Fan Jianqiang exchanged moves at a tremendous pace, and every strike of the rings hit flesh. It made for quite a spectacle, no less exciting than a fight scene in a martial arts film, and the crowd cheered repeatedly, thrilled by the sight.

Amid the cheers, one voice rang out particularly loudly, and what it shouted was different from what everyone else was saying.

"You bastard little fatty, touch Little Lingxiu once and I'll rip you to shreds, stuff you down a toilet, and flush you into the sewers! You'd better think very carefully before you make a move!"

Chapter 53: Kitchen Utensil Weapons