Ishizaki's Small Moves

His strength advantage was on full display as he tore through the low net and tire obstacles—brutal but effective, overtaking two people in succession to claw his way to second place, pressing tight against the leading Class A runner.

Yuefeng stood in the third-leg handoff zone, his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

He could hear the roar of his own blood, and the cheers from the Class C section of the stands—muffled, subdued under Ryuen's icy gaze.

More clearly, he heard Ishizaki's heavy footsteps and the ragged breathing drawing closer.

Here he comes!

Ishizaki's figure burst out of the tire obstacle like a cannonball, covered in mud and grass clippings, his face twisted as he sprinted toward the handoff zone.

His eyes locked onto Yuefeng, a naked ferocity gleaming in them.

Just as Ishizaki charged into the zone and reached out with the baton, something went wrong!

Instead of a smooth handoff like in practice, his foot suddenly stumbled, and his body lurched unnaturally toward Yuefeng!

At the same time, the hand extending the baton wasn't thrust straight forward—it carried a concealed, upward flick, aimed directly at Yuefeng's wrist and face!

This wasn't a handoff at all. It was a deliberate, disguised collision and attack!

Yuefeng's pupils contracted sharply!

In that moment, the world seemed to slow down.

Ishizaki's twisted face, tinged with a hint of triumphant malice.

The tiny, deliberate trip in his step. The trajectory of his arm muscles as they tensed. The dangerous tip of the baton, arcing toward Yuefeng's wrist and face... every detail unfolded in Yuefeng's vision like a high-definition slow-motion replay!

He could even "see" his own slightly widened pupils reflected in Ishizaki's eyes.

His mind raced within the "Slow Motion": Dodge the collision? Possible, but he might miss the baton or get knocked away—the race would be lost, and Ryuen's wrath would fall directly on him.

Take it head-on? With Ishizaki's momentum and strength, plus the baton's jab, he'd likely be injured, maybe even "eliminated" on the spot.

In a flash, Yuefeng made his choice!

Instead of retreating fully to the side and back, he leaned his upper body backward at a perilous angle—almost forty-five degrees to the ground—toward the direction of Ishizaki's "stumble."

At the same time, he thrust his right leg forward, planting it deep into the ground to steady his center of gravity!

This move let him narrowly evade the most forceful point of Ishizaki's shoulder charge, and also deflected the baton's trajectory toward his face.

Smack!

A crisp, teeth-grinding impact!

The baton didn't hit Yuefeng's face, but it slammed viciously into his left forearm, which he had raised to block as he leaned back!

A searing pain shot through him instantly. Yuefeng could even hear the faint groan of his own bones.

But at the same time, his right hand—empowered by the superhuman reflexes of "Slow Motion"—shot out like a serpent, precisely snatching the baton from between Ishizaki's fingers, which had loosened slightly from the excessive force!

"Borrow the momentum!"

Yuefeng muttered inwardly, using the residual force of Ishizaki's charge and the rebound from his own backward lean. He explosively engaged his core, and like a compressed spring suddenly released, twisted his body with an agility and speed that defied common sense, facing the track!

Ishizaki hadn't expected Yuefeng to not only dodge the vital strike but also catch the baton in this situation!

His own feint had completely thrown off his balance. He stumbled forward, landing in a clumsy roll on the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and gasps.

But Yuefeng was already charging toward the climbing rope net ahead without looking back!

The entire handoff zone incident lasted less than two seconds. To most spectators, it looked like Class C's handoff had a minor hiccup—Ishizaki fell.

But the third-leg runner reacted incredibly fast, grabbed the baton, and shot off, even faster than expected!

Only a few people nearby, and some sharp-eyed observers in the stands, vaguely sensed something unusual in that split second.

"That kid..." On the stands, Ryuen squinted, watching Yuefeng's back as he dashed toward the rope net. A faint, unreadable curve tugged at the corner of his lips—whether approval or something else.

In the Class D section, Kiyotaka Ayanokoji watched the field calmly.

His gaze lingered for a moment on Yuefeng's clearly unnatural left arm, then shifted away, as if it were a trivial matter.

Hiyori Shiina covered her mouth, her light brown eyes full of worry—she had seen the baton strike Yuefeng's arm.

Ibuki Mio stood beside her, arms crossed, letting out a cold snort, though a flicker of something unusual passed through her eyes.

Yuefeng had no time to think about anything else. His left arm throbbed with a burning pain—probably already bruised purple, maybe even bone-deep.

But he clenched his teeth, casting aside all pain and distractions. Only the rope net and the finish line remained in his sight!

Climbing the rope net required immense arm strength and coordination. His injured left arm made the climb excruciatingly difficult.

Every pull sent a piercing ache through him.

Sweat blurred his vision, but he dared not pause for even a second. Only one thought filled his mind: Get through it! Finish this leg!

Relying almost entirely on willpower and his right arm, he scrambled over the rope net with hands and feet, then stumbled toward the mud pit.

Mud splashed all over him, but he didn't care. He just gripped the baton tightly, pushing forward with every ounce of strength!

When he finally handed the baton to the fourth-leg teammate, he was nearly collapsing. His left arm hung limply at his side, his face pale as paper.

Class C's fourth-leg runner grabbed the baton and roared as he charged into the final straightaway.

Yuefeng staggered out of the handoff zone, and classmates immediately rushed to support him.

He waved his hand, signaling he was fine, but his gaze was fixed firmly on the track.

Class C's fourth runner gave it their all, but the gap from earlier and the time lost due to Yuefeng's injury during the climb meant they only managed fourth place, missing out on the medals.

From the stands came the disappointed sighs of Class C students and the cheers of the other classes.

Ryuen's face darkened, his cold gaze sweeping over Ishizaki, who had just been helped up, covered in dust and shame.

It then swept over Yuefeng, leaning against the edge of the field, clutching his left arm, his forehead drenched in cold sweat.

Ishizaki flinched under Ryuen's gaze, couldn't help but shiver, and lowered his head, not daring to meet his eyes.

He hadn't expected Yuefeng to react so quickly—not only had he failed, but he'd also made a huge fool of himself in public!

Yuefeng panted heavily, looking at Ryuen. There was no fear in his eyes, only calm, and a faint, barely perceptible chill of someone who had just survived a brush with disaster.

Ryuen stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly curled the corner of his mouth into a cold expression that could almost be called a "smile."

Without a word, he turned and left the sidelines.

The competition continued, the cheers still deafening.

But Yuefeng knew that some things had already changed.

Ishizaki's public provocation and failure, Ryuen's silence and that meaningful "smile," his own injury and persistence in finishing the race... all of it was subtly shifting the delicate balance of power within Class C.

Enduring the sharp pain in his left arm, he refused the suggestion to go to the infirmary, simply letting a classmate apply an ice pack.

He wanted to stay here, watch the rest of the competition, and let certain people see that he, Ayanokoji Yuefeng, was not so easily "accidentally" broken.

In the stands, Hiyori Shiina's worried gaze followed him.

Ibuki Mio, arms crossed, let her eyes wander between Yuefeng and the grim-faced Ishizaki, lost in thought.

Further away, Kiyotaka Ayanokoji had already looked away, as if losing interest in the rest of the competition, fiddling with his terminal.

Yuefeng leaned against the railing. The pain in his left arm came in waves, but his mind was unusually clear.

The "accident" of the Sports Festival was over. He had traded injury and persistence for temporary safety, and perhaps a slight increase in "usable" value in Ryuen's eyes.

But this battle was far from over.

Ishizaki wouldn't let it go, and Ryuen's "favor" meant even greater risks.

Then there was Kiyotaka's silent "observation" and his "father's" unresolved "task."

He looked up at the noisy arena under the blazing sun, sweat mixed with mud sliding down his temple.

"Strength is everything..." he murmured, repeating the school's creed, the corner of his mouth curling into a pained and cold arc.

Today, with pain and persistence, he had proven that he at least possessed the strength "not to be easily eliminated."

What about tomorrow?

He glanced at his still-aching left arm.

Some debts would be settled sooner or later.

Some paths still had to be walked.