The Might of the Top 8

After Iwata Go reset his stance, his rhythm became faster than before.

He no longer threw punches from a fixed position. Instead, he began circling Lin Chen, each step landing on the seams between the ring's wooden boards, making the platform creak continuously. Some people in the stands started clapping, mixed with a few scattered cheers. It seemed they had recognized Iwata Go as one of last year's quarterfinalists and wanted to see him end the fight quickly.

As he circled, Iwata Go suddenly lowered his center of gravity and swept out with a low kick, the wind whistling as it cut toward Lin Chen's ankle. Lin Chen raised his knee to evade the first strike, but after missing, Iwata Go smoothly changed direction, turning the sweep into a thrusting kick that landed against the side of his calf.

Lin Chen's knee buckled slightly, and his balance wavered for an instant. Iwata Go seized that moment, turning sideways and smashing an elbow toward his shoulder. Lin Chen raised an arm to block it, but the blow knocked him half a step sideways. Before he could regain his footing, Iwata Go's second punch followed, driving straight into the space between his abdomen and ribs.

The punch landed solidly.

Lin Chen felt as if a rock had slammed into the side of his abdomen. His breath caught, and he had to retreat three steps before steadying himself, his heels already at the edge of the ring. The referee watched his position, as if checking whether his feet had crossed the line.

"Are you still fighting? Get down already!" someone shouted from the stands. The voice was not loud, but it was clear enough.

Iwata Go did not pursue. Standing where he was, he shook out his wrist. "I made the quarterfinals last time. A guy like you, who hasn't even fought in the qualifiers, can last two rounds at most. If I'd put a little more force into that last punch, you'd be lying down already. Admit defeat yourself. Otherwise, if you get hurt, I'll be the one taking the blame."

Lin Chen stood at the ring's edge as the dull pain in his ribs gradually subsided and his breathing steadied. The hem of his martial arts uniform had been flipped up by that punch, exposing a patch of reddened skin at his waist. He straightened again and stepped back toward the center of the ring.

Iwata Go frowned. "You've got some backbone."

Lin Chen did not answer. His stance was almost unchanged from the beginning—his feet remained the same distance apart, and the height of his center of gravity had not shifted. Iwata Go studied him twice, as though searching his face for even a trace of hesitation, but found nothing.

"Fine," Iwata Go said. "Then take another two punches and see how it feels."

He stepped forward again, his heavy fist smashing toward Lin Chen's face at a trickier angle than before, carrying a slight upward hook. Lin Chen twisted aside, and the punch grazed past his chin. He moved far less than before, almost brushing past the fist itself.

Iwata Go immediately changed moves, driving his left knee upward. Lin Chen pressed down with his palm to block the knee strike, but the impact lifted both his feet from the ground and sent him flying backward. He adjusted his balance in midair. When he landed, he was less than two feet from the ring's edge, his heel striking the boards with a thud.

The stands fell quiet for a moment.

"Why isn't this kid down yet?" someone muttered.

Iwata Go's breathing began to quicken, sweat beading on his forehead and glinting in the sunlight. He wiped his brow, then lowered his hand. "What the hell do you practice? Are you just going to take hits without fighting back?"

This time, Lin Chen did not remain where he was. He took half a step forward on his own, entering Iwata Go's striking range. Iwata Go did not hesitate and threw another punch.

This time, Lin Chen did not evade completely, but the way he received the punch was different. The instant the fist touched his arm, his body drew back slightly at the moment of contact, as if absorbing part of the force at the instant it was delivered. Iwata Go's punch felt like it had struck loose ground, with a portion of its power dissipated.

Iwata Go's expression finally changed. "...What kind of style is that?"

Lin Chen did not answer. He shifted sideways by half a step, then drove his right fist from his waist. The punch was not fast, nor was its angle tricky. It struck squarely in the center of Iwata Go's chest. The ropes at the edge of the ring trembled from the aftershock, creaking faintly. The blow pushed Iwata Go back half a step, his soles scraping against the floor with a piercing sound. He looked down at where he had been hit, then raised his head to look at Lin Chen.

"You..."

He did not finish.

Lin Chen's second punch was already following. This one was faster, striking Iwata Go in the side of the waist, exactly where his center of gravity had shifted after throwing his punch. Iwata Go's body tilted sideways from the blow, his footing becoming unsteady. He staggered two steps to the side and slammed into the ropes at the ring's edge. The ropes stretched taut, then rebounded, pushing him back toward the center.

People in the stands began rising to their feet.

Iwata Go's breathing turned ragged, sweat dripping from his chin onto the wooden boards and spreading into a small dark patch. He shook his head. "You didn't attack earlier because..." He did not finish, gritting his teeth instead. "You little bastard."

He charged again, this time nearly twenty percent slower than at the start. Lin Chen angled aside to let the punch pass, guiding him sideways in the process. Iwata Go's own momentum carried him sliding past Lin Chen's side. He turned, trying to readjust, but Lin Chen's foot had already swept behind his ankle.

Iwata Go stumbled, pitching forward. He reached for the ropes at the edge of the ring to steady himself, but Lin Chen's fist had already struck the spot between his shoulder blades. The force was not heavy, but the angle was perfect, making him lose his balance completely. He lunged forward, grasped at empty air with both hands, and fell straight onto the ground outside the ring with a heavy thud.

The referee ran to the edge of the ring and looked down. Iwata Go was sprawled on the ground, his hands braced against the floor and knees drawn beneath him as though he wanted to stand, but after swaying twice, he collapsed again. Panting heavily, he muttered from beneath the ring, "...This kid..."

The stands were silent. Several seconds later, people finally began speaking again, their voices low and scattered.

The referee turned toward Lin Chen and raised his right hand. "Contestant Iwata Go has fallen out of the ring! The match is over! The winner is Lin Chen!"

Lin Chen stood in the center of the ring, his breathing not yet fully steady. He glanced down at the rope at the ring's edge that Iwata Go had just crashed into. It was still swaying faintly. Then he turned and walked off the platform. As he passed the waiting area, those people were all watching him. One of them opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, then closed it again.

He found a place in a corner of the competitors' rest area and sat against the wall, loosening the collar of his martial arts uniform slightly. The pain in his ribs had mostly faded, but there was now a scraped red mark on the back of his hand from where it had been grazed during a block. Tiny beads of blood were still seeping out, forming a faint red line across his skin.

A burst of cheers and applause came from the direction of the main ring in the distance. Someone was loudly calling out a name, but it was too unclear to make out. Over at Ring Three, they had already begun cleaning up. A staff member walked onto the platform carrying a broom and swept the debris and dust knocked loose during the fight to one side.

Sitting in the corner, Lin Chen slowly moved the right arm he had used to block. The sore swelling in his muscles was gradually fading, while the blood seeping from the edges of the red scrape on his arm had begun to dry.