Challenging the Dojo 2

With a muffled "thud," Sato's massive frame slammed into the wooden floor, sending up a spray of fine splinters.

He stared wide-eyed, his heavy, ragged breathing puffing against the floorboards. His arm remained locked in a punching posture, his face etched with absolute disbelief.

Could his own martial arts, honed through years of bitter training and his greatest source of pride, not even withstand five moves against this first-year freshman?

"Impossible..."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he struggled to push his upper body up, only to feel a wave of numbness radiating from his ribs and shoulder blades. It was as if every ounce of strength had been drained from his body.

The sharp, scrutinizing gaze he had held earlier was gone, replaced by pure shock. "Your skills... exactly how many years have you been training?"

Hoshida No withdrew the knee he had pressed against Sato's chest and took a half-step back. His breathing remained steady. He didn't answer, merely glancing down at the 200,000 points that had just hit his phone, bringing his balance to 400,000.

At this moment, the club president, who had been standing behind the corridor, slowly stepped forward.

He was half a head taller than Sato, his gi collar hanging open to reveal sturdy collarbones. The indifferent look he had worn earlier had sharpened into the gaze of a hawk, locked firmly onto Hoshida No.

Unlike Sato's impulsiveness, there was no shock in his eyes—only the gravity and curiosity stirred by true strength.

To defeat Qiancheng in three moves and Sato in five was no stroke of luck; it was the result of combat techniques tempered by a thousand trials.

"Not bad skills."

The president's voice was deeper than Sato's, carrying the composure of one long accustomed to authority. "I am the Martial Arts Club president, Morikawa."

He gestured for Sato to get up, though his eyes never left Hoshida No. "Qiancheng excels in straight punches, and Sato specializes in grappling. You found the flaws in both with precision and struck with clean, decisive movements. You are an opponent worth taking seriously."

Hoshida No raised his eyes and tapped his phone screen, displaying the 400,000-point balance for everyone to see.

"I offer 400,000 points," he said, his tone calm yet carrying an unquestionable certainty, "to spar with President Morikawa."

The words hit the dojo like a thunderclap.

400,000 points—enough for any student to live comfortably at this school for an entire year. Even Morikawa's pupils contracted slightly.

He remained silent for a few seconds, his gaze sweeping over Hoshida No's fearless face before shifting to the breathless club members around them. "Fine. 400,000 points. I accept."

He took two steps forward and stood face-to-face with Hoshida No. The aura around him suddenly retracted, yet it carried a more oppressive weight than Sato's outward aggression.

It was the restrained edge of a powerhouse who had spent years honing his craft.

"I specialize in a hybrid of Judo and Kyokushin Karate," Morikawa said in a low voice. "If you want to concede, you can say so at any time."

Hoshida No nodded slightly. He let his hands hang naturally, lowered his center of gravity, and kept his gaze calm, though it now held a focus unlike anything seen before.

The dojo fell into absolute silence. Everyone held their breath, their eyes glued to the two figures.

As soon as Morikawa finished speaking, his aura fully unfurled.

He did not rush forward. His feet seemed nailed to the wooden floor, his hands held in a cross-guard before his chest, his eyes tracking every minute movement of Hoshida No like a hawk.

It was a Kyokushin Karate defensive stance, yet he left a subtle opening at his waist for a Judo throw—a feint that made it impossible to distinguish between real and fake.

Hoshida No maintained his relaxed stance, his fingertips slightly curled, his gaze sweeping over Morikawa's steady lower body.

Just as everyone expected him to dodge first, Hoshida No suddenly moved.

His left foot stepped out like a phantom, instantly cutting into Morikawa's inner circle. His right hand reached straight for the forearm guarding the president's chest, his fingertips precisely locking into the gap of the wrist bone.

A flash of light crossed Morikawa's eyes. Instead of retreating, he pressed forward, his left arm sinking to use his body weight to suppress Hoshida No's wrist while his right knee drove toward the boy's abdomen. The technique was a perfect blend of hard and soft, showcasing years of combat experience.

But Hoshida No had already anticipated this. The hand locking the wrist exerted sudden force, and as he twisted his waist, the toe of his left foot hooked Morikawa's supporting ankle. He spun his body like a top, rotating half a circle.

"Hmph!" Morikawa grunted as a piercing numbness shot through his wrist, his lower-body leverage instantly neutralized.

He reacted with lightning speed, releasing his guard to attempt a counter-grapple on Hoshida No's shoulder, only to see the boy's frame suddenly drop. Hoshida No's right elbow grazed past his ribs, finally coming to a steady rest against his chest.

The force stopped exactly at the moment of contact with the fabric, without a shred of excess impact.

Time seemed to freeze.

Morikawa remained in his reaching posture, his chest pressed by the tip of the elbow, his entire momentum vanishing like a stone cast into the sea, leaving him with no room to maneuver.

He looked down at the elbow against his chest, then raised his eyes to meet Hoshida No's calm, ripple-free gaze. Beneath the surface of his eyes, shock and gravity churned, eventually settling into a look of resigned amusement.

"I lost."

The three short words echoed clearly through the silent dojo.

Morikawa slowly raised his hand, signaling for Hoshida No to withdraw, his tone filled with genuine concession. "Your technique is too precise. Every step landed exactly on my flaws, and your control of force is nothing short of masterful."

Hoshida No pulled back his elbow and took a half-step back, his breathing still steady.

Morikawa straightened up, rubbing his numb wrist, and looked at him with burning intensity. "To have such skills as a first-year, you are truly an anomaly among this year's freshmen."

He paused, his tone turning solemn. "Hoshida No, I formally invite you to join the Martial Arts Club."

The surrounding members had already erupted into a frenzy, their whispers filled with disbelief and excitement.

Their president had actually lost to a freshman! And the president's invitation made everyone look at Hoshida No, waiting for his reply.

Morikawa looked at Hoshida No and added, "With your strength, you would serve as vice-president upon joining. You would have full access to the club's resources and receive an additional monthly point subsidy exclusive to the club.

"Besides, you will find opponents here who can truly match you, allowing you to hone your skills further."

His gaze was full of sincerity. "What do you think? Consider it?"

Hoshida No looked down at the 400,000 points that had just arrived on his phone, the light of the screen reflecting in his calm eyes.

Hearing Morikawa's invitation, he remained silent for two seconds, his fingertips tapping lightly against the back of his phone before he spoke slowly: "Fine."

A low cheer erupted instantly in the dojo, only to be forcibly suppressed by the members, all of whom held their breath, waiting for what he would say next.

Hoshida No raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping over Morikawa's expectant expression, his tone remaining indifferent: "But I have one condition. I will not be coming to the club for regular activities often."

This sentence brought the noise in the dojo to an abrupt halt; the smile on Morikawa's face stiffened slightly before he fell into deep thought.

The surrounding members exchanged glances, and some couldn't help but mutter in low voices: "Not coming to the club often? Then what's the point of joining?"

Morikawa raised a hand to stop the discussion behind him, staring at Hoshida No for a moment, as if trying to discern something from his calm expression.

In the end, he grinned and patted his chest: "No problem!"

"The Martial Arts Club doesn't need formal constraints," Morikawa's voice was deep and powerful. "As long as you hold the title of Vice President, can step up for the club during critical moments, and occasionally come to guide the juniors, whether you attend regular training or not is entirely up to you."

He paused, then added, "Club resources and point subsidies will still be provided to you at the highest standard."

Hoshida No nodded slightly, signifying his agreement. Morikawa immediately reached out his hand: "Pleasure doing business with you, Vice President Hoshida No."

Hoshida No raised his hand to shake his briefly, pulling back the moment his fingertips touched the other man's broad palm.

The phone screen dimmed automatically, the balance of 400,000 points hidden in the darkness, much like the thoughts he kept beneath his calm exterior—impossible for anyone to fathom.

Although the surrounding members still had their doubts, seeing that their president had agreed, no one dared to say anything more, though the looks they cast toward Hoshida No were now filled with a bit more awe and curiosity.

This mysterious freshman was not only terrifyingly strong, but even his method of joining the club was so unconventional.