Playing Dirty with Me, Are You?

On the arena.

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

A burly student roared, veins bulging in both arms as he forcibly caught his opponent's heavy punch. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, yet he refused to retreat even half a step.

The crushing burden of the hundred-thousand tuition fee became flames of near-madness in his eyes, burning away his reason and his fear alike.

This was not a match, but a struggle against fate. To retreat was to fall into an abyss.

On the neighboring arena, a frail student suddenly dropped to his knees with a thud, his voice trembling with tears. "Please, can you let me off? I-I can introduce my little sister to you—"

Crack—

The crisp sound of bone breaking came from nearby, followed by a shrill scream.

"I-I lost! I can never practice martial arts again!" The student collapsed to the ground, clutching his twisted, deformed arm as tears streamed down his face.

His opponent merely coldly flicked the blood from his hand and turned away.

Then, amid the desolation, an ecstatic shout suddenly erupted. "Huh?! Yes! I won! I made it into the Quarterfinals!"

A student who had never been favored stared at his own hands in disbelief, then fell to his knees on the arena, crying and laughing as though he had won the whole world.

Lu Jue silently watched it all, his face utterly expressionless.

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

Just as he had expected, his next two opponents were the same as Wang Meng. Though they were clearly far weaker than him, they seemed driven by some kind of "mission," willing to trade injury for injury just to leave wounds on him.

One of them was even more crazed, willing to pay with half his life just to land a punch on Lu Jue.

When the referee finally announced that he had advanced to the Quarterfinals, Lu Jue calmly stepped down from the arena without even glancing at the covertly watching eyes around him.

Six hours later, the preliminary rounds and the Revival Match came to an end.

Each grade had only one hundred and fifty advancement slots. Of the thousands who had originally entered, fewer than a thousand remained in the blink of an eye.

Wails and sighs intertwined. Some wept loudly, crying that their path of martial arts had been cut off forever; others had barely scraped together the tuition, yet knew their families would now have to walk on thin ice.

Quite a few turned back to the dormitories, packed their things, and left in silence with hearts as dead as ashes. But even more chose to remain and keep watching the competition.

For the vast majority present, the brutality of this Quota Competition had already surpassed any match they had experienced before.

In past year-end assessments, everyone had still valued the bonds between classmates, usually stopping at the right point. When had they ever fought like this, with everyone going all out and pouring everything they had into it?

What surprised Lu Jue was that Liu Ga, who had originally ranked beyond a thousandth place, had actually broken precedent and won a round. Though he was instantly defeated in the second round, it still counted as tremendous progress.

It seemed the earlier "heartbreak incident" had indeed helped him grow.

At two-thirty in the afternoon, the bell for the Quarterfinals rang on schedule.

Unlike the quick battles of the preliminaries, the Quarterfinals used a round-robin points system. Each participant had to fight several opponents in succession, and only the top forty in points could enter the final competition.

Lu Jue drew the number "Group A, Eighteen." There were still two rounds before his turn.

Liu Ga had clearly done his homework. He leaned close to Lu Jue and lowered his voice. "Brother Jue, you've got really good luck this time! I checked carefully—three of the top ten, Li Hao and Zhao He from Sword Dao Class Two, as well as Xu Jing from Fist Arts Class One, all avoided your Group A!"

Hearing that, Lu Jue's gaze naturally shifted toward the arena below.

Not far away, a young man dressed in deep crimson finery stood out sharply. With his arrogant expression and lazy posture, he was none other than Zhao He, the unquestioned big brother of East City Martial School's circle of playboys.

At that moment, Zhao He's opponent clearly knew him. The two put on a show for a few exchanges before the other man simply conceded.

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

Liu Dong, who had previously crossed paths with Lu Jue at the banquet, was fiercely entangled with a powerfully built contestant.

When Lu Jue turned his attention in that direction, Liu Ga, the dog-headed strategist, immediately introduced them. "Liu Dong, ranked one hundred and fifth in the grade. He's one of the few martial arts geniuses among commoners who never bowed his head to the Power Elites."

"The one fighting him is called Wu Dazhuang. I heard they used to be close friends, but for some reason, they ended up going their separate ways."

On the arena, Liu Dong and Wu Dazhuang were already locked in the thick of battle.

Liu Dong moved with agility, his punches flashing like lightning, fully displaying the strength of the grade's one hundred and fifth-ranked student.

He was stronger than Wu Dazhuang and could clearly have ended the fight smoothly. But his opponent was like a mad tiger, fighting with the desperate style of trading his life for wounds. Every punch and kick carried a howling wind, exposing his own openings without care, asking only to leave injuries on Liu Dong.

Bang!

Wu Dazhuang took Liu Dong's side kick head-on. A dull sound that made teeth ache came from beneath his ribs, but he merely swayed before using the momentum to swing a heavy punch at Liu Dong's face.

Liu Dong tilted his head aside, the fist wind cutting painfully across his cheek. Yet after hesitating for half a second, he had no choice but to avoid the edge of the blade—for the battles to come, he absolutely could not suffer grave injuries here.

For a time, the battle fell into a stalemate. Sweat and bloody spit splashed across the arena, and every collision of flesh and bone produced a heavy, muffled impact.

At last, Liu Dong spotted a fleeting opening—

After his opponent threw a powerful straight punch and failed to retract it in time, Liu Dong shot forward. A precise, ruthless hand chop burst forth like a venomous snake leaving its hole and struck heavily at the elbow joint of the opponent's extended right arm!

Crack!

The crisp sound of breaking bone suddenly rang out, and Wu Dazhuang's right arm instantly twisted into an unnatural shape.

"Wu Dazhuang!"

Liu Dong stepped back and shouted sternly, "Concede! It's not like your family can't afford that hundred thousand. Why risk your life against me?!"

Yet Wu Dazhuang used his uninjured left hand to brace himself against the ground and shakily stood up again.

"S-sorry..."

He kept muttering under his breath. Veins bulged across his forehead, cold sweat fell like rain, and his whole face twisted from agonizing pain. Yet a terrifying madness burned in his eyes as he lowered his head and charged again, his steps already staggering.

"Are you fucking insane?!" Liu Dong was both shocked and furious, but he ultimately could not bear it. He only wanted to push this former close friend, now out of his mind, off the arena and be done with it.

He turned sideways and reached out, just about to grab the other man's shoulder, when a sudden change erupted!

Wu Dazhuang neither dodged nor evaded. He abruptly spread his remaining arm and locked it around Liu Dong's arm like an iron hoop. Then he lowered his head, opened his mouth wide, and viciously bit down on Liu Dong's forearm!

"Urgh—ah!"

A bloodcurdling scream burst from Liu Dong.

He violently flung his arm, and piercing pain shot through him. A huge chunk of flesh and skin had been torn straight from his forearm, blood instantly staining half his arm red.

"Wu Dazhuang! Fuck me, what the hell is this supposed to mean?!" Liu Dong trembled all over from the pain, his eyes bloodshot and nearly spitting fire.

Wu Dazhuang spat out the flesh in his mouth. Blood and tears mixed on his face as he screamed in collapse, "I'm sorry! I had no choice! My little sister in second year, she signed an agreement with them last month..."

His voice choked with sobs, filled with endless humiliation. He nearly exhausted all his strength as he cried out:

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

The word "agreement" exploded like thunder in Liu Dong's mind. His entire body jolted, and the anger on his face instantly froze before turning into a deep, desolate sorrow.

He looked at the former close friend before him, at this man who had been forced into a beast, and hesitated no longer.

His bloodstained figure strode forward, and a hand chop landed precisely on the back of the other man's neck.

Bang!

The madness and pain in Wu Dazhuang's eyes went out at once, and his massive body crashed to the ground.

Liu Dong stood on the arena, his gaze passing beyond it before landing coldly on Zhao He.

"You Zhao bastard, fuck me, you're playing dirty with me, are you?"