Chapter 1031: Superman
The surrounding people gradually dispersed, leaving the wide "river channel" to Zhang Shan and Qiao Jiajin.
The two of them moved their feet slowly, coming to the left and right sides of the "river channel" respectively, forming a confrontation stance.
For them, whether it was the left or right side, there should have been quite a few people moving about at this moment. Yet the "river channel" was exceptionally quiet, so quiet that only the sound of the two men's breathing could be heard.
Their breathing was like cheering applause and shouts, welcoming this no-rules, no-restrictions, no-protection, no-referee deathmatch.
The situation where you could win an ordinary match just by locking your opponent's arm no longer existed here. Unless one side conceded, the fight would only end in death.
Besides, it was unfair to view this duel through the lens of a "boxing ring," because the weight disparity between the two sides was considerable.
Qiao Jiajin felt that his current weight was probably around seventy kilograms, less than one hundred sixty pounds, while Zhang Shan before him was at least over two hundred pounds.
Even in a ring, with gloves, rules, soft ground, and a referee's protection, it was rarely wise to challenge someone from a higher weight class—let alone in a deathmatch taking place in this hard, narrow room.
Sitting on the edge of the stands, Qinglong and Dilong also noticed the two men in the center of the "river channel." They stood in the middle of the entire chessboard, their feet planted on the words "Chu River Han Border." Though their bodies were brimming with fighting spirit, neither of them moved an inch.
"Brilliant," Qinglong said.
Dilong, petite in stature, grinned after hearing this. "They're just standing there. How is that brilliant?"
"A kind of vague brilliance," Qinglong replied. "Neither of them wants to fight here, after all—a moment's carelessness could mean death. But the word 'responsibility' weighed on their shoulders, forcing them to make this decision. Humans are always like this, whether in large-scale wars or small conflicts. They say, 'I have to kill you not because of what you've done, but because for some reason I have no choice but to kill you.' This kind of vague and self-contradictory rhetoric strikes me as exceptionally brilliant."
"Put simply, they shouldn't have to die," Dilong said with a "heh heh" laugh. "Being pushed to this point means it's someone else who deserves to die, right?"
"Ha ha!" Qinglong laughed unrestrainedly. "Interesting. Now that you know you won't survive, you've even lost the basic fear of me."
"Is speaking the truth also a capital offense?" Dilong retorted. "You and Tianlong are the same. All the punishments you've meted out to every 'participant' and 'zodiac' here—it's not because they've done anything heinous. It's only because you wanted to, so you did."
"The 'contradiction' I spoke of only applies to mortals," Qinglong answered. "When they encounter a being more powerful than themselves, this reasoning no longer holds. Because the gap in strength is too great, they can only be slaughtered."
In the "river channel," Qiao Jiajin took a deep breath, then slowly closed his eyes.
Under normal circumstances, how should a fight with such a huge weight disparity be fought?
— Yes, it shouldn't be fought at all.
But if he didn't topple this mountain now, the situation would only get more troublesome later on.
So to win this battle, three things were crucial.
Technique, technique, and technique.
When his build, height, reach, and strength all fell short of his opponent's, he couldn't even blink during the fight. In the moments to come, he not only had to stay completely focused, but also had to exert all his skills to two hundred percent.
"Ah Jin," a voice echoed in his mind. "Don't train boxing this afternoon. Rong Ye gave us two hundred bucks—let's go play video games."
The voice was both familiar and unfamiliar, as if he'd heard it just a few years ago, yet also as if he'd never heard it in decades of life.
"No can do, Jiu Zai," he replied in the memory. "You go play the games. I'm really no good at them."
"Training like this is so tiring!" Jiu Zai said. "Boxing in the afternoon, fighting at night—I'd be tired even if I were you. In life, you've got to learn to rest, you know."
"But I can't fall," he said again. "If I fall, you'll fall. If you fall, Rong Ye will fall."
"Don't make it so hard on yourself!" Jiu Zai laughed as he spoke to Qiao Jiajin. "Jin Ya Zai's arcade just got the new version of 'Fatal Fury.' You really don't want to come try it?"
"'Fatal Fury,' huh... Jiu Zai, it's okay. You've played it, so that counts as me playing it too."
Whether then or now, the situation was no different.
If he fell, Chen Junnan would fall. If Chen Junnan fell, Qi Xia would fall.
He was neither a mountain nor iron—just an ordinary body of flesh and blood. To use this flesh-and-blood body to stand in front of everyone and not fall, he could only forge this body into something like steel as best he could.
Now, though his muscles and strength had diminished, his technique remained—the only weapon he had left.
"Big guy..." Qiao Jiajin opened his eyes, trying to keep his breathing steady. "Are you ready for this deathmatch?"
"I haven't let my guard down for a single moment," Zhang Shan replied.
"Then I'm coming over," Qiao Jiajin said.
Before Zhang Shan could even speak, Qiao Jiajin's form rushed forward like a gust of wind, closing the distance in an instant. Zhang Shan hadn't even set his stance when Qiao Jiajin's right hand was already hovering in the air.
Zhang Shan steadied himself. One foot shot up rapidly, intending to intercept the attack with his knee, while his hands quickly rose to guard his chin.
As if he had anticipated this, Qiao Jiajin stomped his foot down on the shin Zhang Shan was about to lift, using the leverage to leap into the air. Then, adjusting his center of gravity midair, he swung his legs back, leaned his upper body forward, and threw a full-powered punch.
In combat sports, this technique was called a "Superman Punch"—throwing all one's weight and center of gravity into a strike aimed at the opponent's face. If it landed, it could result in a one-punch KO. But it also left the attacker vulnerable to a counter due to losing balance.
Despite his bulky frame, Zhang Shan reacted extremely quickly. Before his foot even touched the ground, his upper body ducked sharply while keeping his guard up. Qiao Jiajin's desperate punch only grazed the side of his forearm.
But the next moment was hard to endure. As soon as Qiao Jiajin landed, Zhang Shan immediately adjusted his stance and swung a horizontal elbow strike toward Qiao Jiajin's face.
Qiao Jiajin hurriedly raised both hands to protect his face, but he was still sent skidding back several meters by the immense force.
The brief exchange left both men with even grimmer expressions.
Zhang Shan knew that the tattoo-armed man before him was no ordinary thug. His combat skills were at least as good as his own, if not better. And in a real fight, it wasn't like in martial arts movies—trading blows back and forth for dozens of rounds without a decisive outcome was a pipe dream.
If that punch had actually landed on his chin, he would have been dazed within seconds. The other man could then seize the opportunity to apply a guillotine choke. From the start of the engagement to being locked down, it would take at most twenty seconds, and the match would be over.
Thinking this, he reset his stance, using his arms to protect both sides of his face.
Qiao Jiajin, meanwhile, shook his throbbing arm, rolled his neck, and also assumed a boxing stance.
He squinted at Zhang Shan's forearm. His fist had scraped past it moments ago, taking off a patch of skin. Thin threads of blood began to seep out.