You're playing dirty, aren't you? (Seeking follow-up reads!)

On the stage.

"Damn it! I can't lose here!"

A powerfully built student roared, veins bulging on his arms as he took a heavy punch from his opponent head-on. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, yet he refused to retreat even half a step.

The weight of the hundred-thousand tuition fee transformed into a near-mad flame in his eyes, burning through his reason and his fear.

This wasn't just a match; it was a struggle for his destiny. To retreat was to fall into the abyss.

On the adjacent stage, a scrawny student suddenly collapsed to his knees with a "thump," his voice choked with tears. "Please, can you let me off? I, I can introduce my sister to you..."

"Crack—"

A crisp bone-cracking sound echoed from not far away, accompanied by a piercing scream.

"I, I lost. I can't practice martial arts anymore!" The student collapsed onto the ground, sobbing uncontrollably as he clutched his twisted, deformed arm.

His opponent merely shook the blood off his hands indifferently and turned to leave.

Amidst this bleak scene, a voice suddenly erupted in ecstatic joy: "Huh! Good! I won! I've made it to the quarterfinals!"

A student who was initially not favored looked at his own hands in disbelief, then knelt on the stage, crying and laughing as if he had just won the entire world.

Lu Jue watched it all silently, his face expressionless.

After defeating Wang Meng, he had fought two more rounds.

Just as he had expected, his next two opponents were like Wang Meng. Although their strength was far inferior to his, they seemed driven by some "mission," willing to trade injuries to inflict wounds upon him.

One of them was particularly frenzied, willing to pay half his life to land a punch on Lu Jue.

When the referee finally announced his advancement to the quarterfinals, Lu Jue calmly walked off the stage, not even sparing a glance at the eyes secretly watching him.

Six hours later, the preliminary rounds and the revival matches concluded.

Each grade had only one hundred and fifty advancement slots. The arena, which had initially seen thousands of participants, was now reduced to just under a thousand people moving forward.

Wails and sighs intertwined. Some wept openly, crying that their martial arts path was severed. Others, though they could barely scrape together the tuition fee, knew their families would struggle immensely because of it.

Many turned back to their dorms, packed their bags, and left silently, their hearts filled with despair. But more chose to stay, continuing to watch the matches.

For the vast majority present, the brutality of this quota competition far surpassed any previous matches they had experienced.

In past year-end assessments, everyone still valued camaraderie, and their moves were often held back. When had they ever gone all out like today, pouring in their absolute best?

To Lu Jue's surprise, Liu Ga, who was originally ranked outside the top thousand, had managed to win a round, a first for him. Although he was instantly defeated in the next round, it was still considerable progress.

It seemed the "breakup incident" had indeed helped him grow.

At 2:30 PM, the bell for the quarterfinals rang precisely on time.

Unlike the quick matches of the preliminary rounds, the quarterfinals adopted a point-based round-robin system. Each person would have to fight several opponents in rotation. Only those whose points ranked in the top forty would advance to the final round.

Lu Jue drew the number "Group A, Eighteen," with two rounds remaining before his turn.

Liu Ga had clearly done his homework. He sidled up to Lu Jue and lowered his voice, saying, "Brother Jue, you've got great luck this time! I've checked carefully. The top three ranked players—Li Hao and Zhao He from Sword Dao Class Two, and Xu Jing from Fist Arts Class One—have all been avoided by your Group A!"

Upon hearing this, Lu Jue's gaze shifted to the audience below.

Not far away, a young man dressed in a striking deep red robe stood out. He had an arrogant expression and a lazy posture, the undisputed leader of the East City Martial School's clique of rich kids, Zhao He.

At this moment, Zhao He's opponent clearly knew him. The two exchanged a few perfunctory moves before the opponent promptly surrendered.

Meanwhile, on another stage, a completely different battle was unfolding.

Liu Dong, whom Lu Jue had met at the banquet, was locked in a fierce struggle with a burly contestant.

When Lu Jue's gaze turned to this side, Liu Ga, the "military advisor," immediately introduced him: "Liu Dong, ranked 105th in his grade. He's one of the rare martial arts geniuses from commoner background who hasn't bowed down to the powerful."

"The contestant he's fighting is named Wu Dazhuang. Rumor has it they were once close friends, but for some reason, they parted ways..."

On the stage, Liu Dong and Wu Dazhuang were already in the thick of their fight.

Liu Dong's footwork was agile, his punches like lightning, fully displaying the strength of someone ranked 105th in their grade.

His strength was greater than Wu Dazhuang's, and he could have easily ended the fight. However, his opponent fought like a maddened tiger, employing a desperate, life-risking style. Every punch and kick carried a whistling wind, leaving himself wide open in exchange for inflicting damage on Liu Dong.

"Bang!"

Wu Dazhuang took a side kick from Liu Dong squarely, a sickening thud echoing from his ribs. Yet, he only staggered slightly, using the momentum to throw a heavy punch towards Liu Dong's face.

Liu Dong dodged by turning his head, the wind of the punch stinging his cheek. But after hesitating for half a second, he had to choose to avoid the brunt of the attack—for the sake of his subsequent battles, he absolutely could not sustain a serious injury at this moment.

For a time, the battle devolved into a stalemate. Sweat and blood splattered on the stage, and every collision of limbs produced a heavy thud.

Finally, Liu Dong spotted an opening—

After his opponent threw a powerful straight punch that he couldn't retract in time, Liu Dong surged forward. A precise and vicious hand chop, like a viper striking from its den, landed heavily on the elbow joint of the opponent's extended right arm!

"Crack!"

A crisp bone-cracking sound suddenly rang out. Wu Dazhuang's right arm instantly contorted unnaturally.

"Wu Dazhuang!"

Liu Dong stepped back and shouted sternly, "Surrender! Your family isn't unable to afford the hundred thousand, so why are you fighting me with your life!?"

However, at this moment, Wu Dazhuang used his uninjured left hand to support himself on the ground, trembling as he stood up again.

"S-sorry."

He muttered repeatedly, veins bulging on his forehead, cold sweat pouring like rain. His entire face was contorted in agony, but his eyes burned with a chilling madness. He lowered his head and charged again, his steps already faltering.

"Are you fucking crazy!?" Liu Dong was both shocked and angry, but in the end, his heart couldn't bear it. He just wanted to push his former close friend, who was clearly out of his mind, off the stage and be done with it.

He sidestepped and reached out, about to place his hand on the other's shoulder, when a sudden change occurred!

Wu Dazhuang didn't dodge. With his single arm, he suddenly spread it wide, like an iron clamp, and tightly gripped Liu Dong's arm. Then, he buried his head and opened his mouth, biting down hard on Liu Dong's forearm!

"Argh—!"

A piercing scream erupted from Liu Dong.

He violently yanked his arm away, a searing pain shooting through him. A large chunk of flesh, skin and all, had been brutally torn off his forearm. Blood instantly dyed half of his arm red.

"Wu Dazhuang! What the hell is this!?" Liu Dong trembled from the pain, his eyes bloodshot, practically spitting fire.

Wu Dazhuang spat out the bloody flesh from his mouth with a "plop." Tears mixed with blood on his face as he cried out in despair, "I'm sorry! I have no choice. My sister in the second grade, she signed an agreement with them last month..."

His voice choked with endless humiliation, he cried out with almost all his strength:

"Please! Let me win!! If I win, my sister can..."

The words "agreement" struck Liu Dong like thunder. He shuddered, the anger on his face instantly freezing, then transforming into a deep sorrow.

He looked at his former close friend before him, this man now driven to become a beast, and hesitated no longer.

His blood-stained figure resolutely stepped forward, and a precise hand chop landed on the back of the other's neck.

Bang!

The madness and pain in Wu Dazhuang's eyes instantly extinguished. His massive body crashed to the ground.

Liu Dong stood on the stage, his gaze sweeping past the ring and coldly landing on Zhao He.

"Zhao, you think you can play dirty with me, huh?"