Chapter Fifty-Six: The Fiend

“If you think you can do it, then come at me!” Julius, a veritable mountain of muscle, roared.

Then, his massive fists—each the size of a man’s head—no longer cared for breathing, defense, positioning, or any of those bothersome technicalities. He understood now—this kid was dead serious about backing up his words. And his own half-baked fighting techniques were utterly useless against this relentless suppression.

—So there was nothing left to do but go berserk and unleash everything!

He, Julius Reinhardt, swore on his muscles and fists: even if it was a mindless clash of brute strength, he would never lose to anyone!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The sound of flesh colliding echoed through the entire Deathmatch Arena. With their duel now a pure contest of attack against attack, the rising speed and frequency of their blows created a storm of fists that threatened to engulf them both.

No defense. No dodging!
No pause for breath. No retreat!
From this moment until the fight’s end, all tactics and calculation would be thrown aside.

—Only the most savage, head-on exchange remained!

“What incredible fighting spirit!”
“Those two... No! Those two monsters!”
“This is what a gladiator match is all about! This is true manliness!”

The wild ferocity of their exchange, requiring no commentary to appreciate, conquered the hearts of everyone present with its sheer violence. Raucous cheers and shouts erupted, reverberating across the arena.

This was what the privileged and powerful had come to see, was it not?

On Julius’s enormous frame, his perfectly sculpted muscles were stamped one after another with deep, unmistakable fist marks. The impressions were so clear, so deep, that the audience could not help but wonder if the cable-like muscles beneath had been pulverized into mince!

Yet Bai Tangjing, though unmarked by bruises and not even breaking a sweat, knew his own body all too well. His muscles screamed, his bones shuddered... The pain in his flesh surged in relentless waves toward his mind.

His mind surged with qi, his skin and muscles pulsed with the flow of dragon-blood internal energy.

These things could indeed enhance one’s defense and recovery.

But Julius Reinhardt—this man had once chained a world-class F1 car to himself, had a champion driver rev the engine, and pulled against it with all his might.

All just to test his own strength.

Even a massive yak, solidly muscled and weighing over a ton—like a living tank—would have been torn to pieces by the eight hundred horsepower of that engine.

But Julius Reinhardt, the very pinnacle of German life sciences—

—He stopped that F1 car dead in its tracks!

To be hammered, unguarded, by such fists again and again—no matter how advanced Bai Tangjing’s internal and external cultivation, he could not simply ignore it.

Yet even as the pain crashed over him like breakers, Bai Tangjing felt a rush of exhilaration.

It was as though shackles deep within his soul shattered under the rain of blows, as if some violence and bloodlust buried in his very genes were breaking free, ready to roar at the sky—

To feel pleasure in pain—was that normal?

Bai Tangjing did not know.

But he suspected that any man who had struggled beneath the shadow of death for nearly a decade could hardly be called normal.

“Ha... haha...”

Amid the rain of iron fists, the young man’s smile began to twist. The curve of his lips was no longer merely exaggerated—

—it was ferocious!

“Julius...

—you’re magnificent!”

Rip!

With Bai Tangjing’s exuberant praise, his battered shirt finally tore apart! And revealed to all in the arena—the demonic visage of a raging oni, laughing amid hellfire, sprawling across the boy’s back!

A monstrous killing intent, brimming with terrifying will, swept through the venue. Every spectator felt as though a hand had closed around their throat.

For those who had come to watch this match, this aura was simply beyond their capacity to bear.

They had come for the thrill of fists and muscle, the raw excitement that, for modern people in the steel jungle, was already enough to make the blood boil.

But if the contest crossed some invisible boundary—murder, mutilation... or even just the killing aura that now radiated from Bai Tangjing—

Then the audience’s excitement would turn not to thrill, but to fear.

After all, what normal person wishes to witness their fellow man die a gruesome death?

But unlike the shocked and silent general audience, the gladiators’ section in the VIP seats erupted into a clamor.

“Hey, hey! Is this a joke? That insane muscle definition! You telling me you can get that from Jeet Kune Do?!”

Naoya Okubo, the “King of Mixed Martial Arts,” ran a hand through his bristling crew cut and stared dumbfounded at the pale but striking young man beside him.

His fellow Jeet Kune Do practitioner, the “Ice Emperor” Ryo Himuro, his right hand in a cast, also stared slack-jawed at the ring.

“Bruce Lee, the founder, truly did have a formidable back—when he spread his arms, it was like wings unfurling—but this... this goes far beyond that...”

He didn’t finish, but the meaning was clear.

Muscles like that, warped into a demonic mask—no amount of training alone could produce such a thing!

Meanwhile, in the ring, Bai Tangjing, now bare-chested, felt his spirit surge with intoxicating euphoria. His qi and dragon-blood energy roared within him like racing engines.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The sound of flesh and bone colliding still rang out, but amid the downpour of fists, Bai Tangjing’s pale, slender fists began to gain the upper hand.

“Julius, it’s almost over.” The boy’s smile now mirrored the demon’s face on his back. “In the next instant!”

The giant, a living mountain of muscle, though blood now trickled from the corner of his mouth, kept his features icy and unflinching, as though his face had forgotten how to move.

“If you think you can do it, then come at me!”

“Here I come!”

Before the words had fully left his lips, Bai Tangjing wrenched his feet free from the floor, where they’d been embedded by the ferocity of their exchange.

Then, he leapt.

He unleashed a whip kick—deceptively simple in form, but with a razor-sharp point at the tip—aimed straight at Julius’s neck!

The muscle giant’s pupils shrank to pinpoints, sharper than ever before.

“That move! For the first time since entering this slugfest, Reinhardt is going on the defensive!” The commentator, who had found little to say during this brutal, straightforward contest, now shouted as if she had discovered a new continent.

In this final exchange, Julius watched Bai Tangjing soar through the air, momentarily losing his footing.

Though he sensed the coming kick was dangerous, his warrior’s instinct urged him to seize this one chance for victory.

His left arm, battered but still thick as a tree trunk, shot up to guard his neck. His equally battered right hand launched an uppercut at Bai Tangjing’s exposed ribs.

“Blocking with both hands might fend off the blow, but then I’d lose my chance to win! If I strike now, while he’s airborne and unbalanced... A mere eighty kilos—even now, I could send him flying with one punch—”

Bang!

Before the thought had finished in the giant’s mind, the impact resounded.

The crash was so loud, it needed no amplification to fill the arena.

“It’s over! The fight is decided!”

The referee, who had vanished at the outset, now rushed in through the dust and debris kicked up by their titanic clash.

Swallowing hard, his voice rang out over the stunned crowd.