Shocked

"Was this the usual trash-talking before a match?"

Cheng Sheng blinked at the man before him, who resembled a humanoid "tyrannosaurus."

In his previous life, he had watched some informal boxing and wrestling matches. Fighting matches with an entertainment element generally seemed to have a segment like this.

On the one hand, it stirred up the audience and gave the match more of a hook. On the other, it was also a kind of psychological warfare.

Should I talk some trash too?

Cheng Sheng gave it some thought.

Soon, he had an idea.

"I have a friend..."

Cheng Sheng raised his head and spoke to the man before him. "He's always wanted a real 'mongkhon.'"

Cheng Sheng pointed at the blue headband on the man's forehead. After a pause, he continued, "If you take off your Blue Mongkhon and give it to me now, I can promise to go easy on you later..."

A short distance away, the man had been freely radiating his presence as a fighting star of the Mamba Fighting Arena toward the spectator stands on all sides. When he heard those words, his expression froze.

His gaze immediately darkened. He lowered the arms he had been waving in every direction and began walking toward Cheng Sheng, step by step.

"Clang-!"

The gong rang out, marking the official start of the match. The roars that erupted in an instant nearly lifted the roof off the fighting hall.

"A few days ago, I ran into a kid about your age, just as cocky as you...

"I fought him once, and he came looking for another fight afterward.

"I think I was still too merciful. I still went too easy on him..."

The man approached, his muscles knotted and his bones making an eerie "creak, creak" throughout his body. With a savage expression, he said, "If I don't show the likes of you what I can really do, next time... are they going to put someone in split-crotch pants up against me?!"

Before he had finished speaking, a tremendous "boom" erupted beneath his feet.

He charged forward in an instant, his thick arm like a giant python, tearing through the air with a shriek. The sight alone gave off a terrifying, violent pressure that threatened to suffocate anyone watching.

"Whoosh-"

The wind from the oncoming punch lifted the loose strands over Cheng Sheng's forehead, and he instinctively narrowed his eyes.

As it turned out, tossing out some trash talk before a fight was useful after all.

The man had clearly been provoked.

Nurturing Sha...

And Nurturing Sha after being provoked at that. He was clearly a strength-type fighter.

I wonder if my optimized Black Killing Style Secret Art... can withstand it?

The figure reflected in his pupils grew rapidly larger. Cheng Sheng did not move, but his eyes grew brighter and brighter.

"Naturally fast reactions? How fast can he be?"

"I'm not sure. But... he should be able to hold his own against him for a while."

Sulai sounded uncertain.

Having watched the match against Zhou Wenye, Sulai was quite certain that Cheng Sheng's reactions were naturally faster than ordinary people's. But as she watched the ring now, she could not help growing a little nervous.

"Thump!"

A distant, muffled impact sounded. Lunba, who had been watching from the glass window with a cigar in his mouth, turned to Sulai in astonishment. "That's it?!"

Sulai froze too.

In the ring below, the first strike launched by "Blue Dragon" Weiji landed squarely on Cheng Sheng.

The punch seemed to have crippled Cheng Sheng outright. His head drooped, his back hunched slightly, and he stood rooted to the spot, looking as though the blow had stunned him.

"Why didn't he dodge..."

Sulai spoke without thinking.

"It's not that he didn't dodge. He couldn't!"

A voice quickly answered her.

Mo Jiang's eyes blazed, and an indescribable light shone on his face.

Both his hands were clenched into fists, and he looked extremely excited, as though he had been telling the truth all along without anyone believing him, and the truth had finally come to light.

"I said it ages ago. He's no genius at all, and his reactions aren't as fast as Senior Sister imagined. Last time, he really was just lucky..."

Everyone beside him fell silent.

Several seconds later, Sulai suddenly broke the silence. "Lunba, can you stop the match immediately?"

"A match that's already started can't just be stopped. This kid has to last at least a few more rounds."

Lunba bit down on his cigar. Meeting Sulai's anxious, worried gaze, he shook his head and sighed. "I'll see what I can do..."

"Thank you..."

"That hurts, doesn't it..."

The man held his punching stance, looking at his motionless opponent, whose body was draped almost halfway over his fist. He grinned savagely. "If it hurts, scream. If you scream miserably enough, maybe I'll go easier on the next punch.

"The last kid I fought who was about your age..."

"Actually..."

Before the man could finish, a voice suddenly rang out.

The next second, the youth before him slowly raised his head.

His young face was neither handsome nor ugly and still had a touch of youthful immaturity. Unexpectedly, there was no trace of pain on it.

He was even smiling.

"It doesn't hurt at all."

The man froze, finally realizing something was wrong.

He instinctively tried to pull his fist away from the youth's chest, but a hand had already settled on his wrist, gripping his arm tightly.

The hand was long-fingered and fair, looking just like a teenager's. But sharp, pitch-black keratinous protrusions had grown on its back and knuckles, giving it a distinctly eerie and frightening appearance.

"You..."

The man's expression changed instantly. As though he had thought of something, disbelief appeared in his eyes.

But before he could speak, the youth in front of him had fully straightened up.

With his other hand, he forcefully tore off his tracksuit jacket with a "rip."

"Your punch was even lighter than I imagined..."

Under the blazing white lights on the ceiling above the ring, the youth calmly stretched his back.

His upper body was completely bare, and large patches of hard, black keratinous protrusions now covered it.

This layer of keratin covered his chest, back, and arms evenly, like some strange armor fitted close to his skin, or like scabbed-blood totems that had grown naturally from his flesh...

At that moment, the restless spectators around the ring fell quiet without realizing it. Everyone stared blankly at the youth's "transformation," which he had quietly completed beneath his school uniform.

Meanwhile, in a second-floor viewing room facing the ring, Lunba had been unable to withstand Sulai's urging and was preparing to call and stop the match. He stood frozen with his phone in hand, the cigar in his mouth dropping to the floor with a "clack."

Sulai and the other two beside him reacted much the same way.

Astonished, Sulai stared fixedly at the figure below, wondering if she was seeing things.

"S-Spiny Skin?!"

After the entire viewing room had been silent for several seconds, Mo Jiang, who had been standing at the glass window, turned without a word and walked all the way to the seat at the far end of the room, where he plopped down.

All that remained on his face was a look of utter dejection.

"Why?"

Mo Jiang buried his head in his knees, dug all ten fingers fiercely through his hair, and his eyes were bloodshot.

He wanted to know why.

He had clearly started from the highest point, cultivated the hardest, trained the most diligently, and had the firmest resolve.

The special training required six hours a day, but he had pushed himself to sixteen!

The secret art cultivation could theoretically only be performed three times a day, but he had secretly increased it to six. When the pain kept him awake in bed at night, he gritted his teeth, got up, and practiced again!

He only had to complete three actual combat matches a day, but he had fought nearly twenty in a few days!

Why, when he had already worked so hard, had he barely completed one-tenth of his cultivation of the Black Killing Style Secret Art?

And Cheng Sheng... had already mastered it!

Why?

Mo Jiang desperately wanted to find someone and ask why any of this had happened.

Unfortunately, the only answer he received was a curse that Tong Huan could not hold back.

"Holy crap!"

"Cheng Sheng, Cheng Sheng wasn't lying to me!...

"His talent really does come and go in waves!"