Chapter 105: Chapter 105: Stepping Stone

It was the day of Fang Chen’s match at the Geta Club. Since he didn’t have school anymore, he arrived at the club early.

The moment he stepped inside Geta, a much hotter and more raucous atmosphere than usual hit him in the face. Massive promotional posters plastered both sides of the inner corridor. Brilliantly lit, the four figures on the posters struck an imposing visual impact. These were exactly the four rising stars Zhao Tianxiong had mentioned before: himself, Hong, Little Cai Long, and Monk.

To promote today’s two "civil wars" between rising stars, the club had clearly been building hype for a long time. They even deliberately condensed the earlier matches to leave nearly half an hour of warmup time, setting the stage for a heavyweight showdown and a clash of stars. The venue was already packed. Even the aisles and the open spaces at the back were crammed with people, the roar of the crowd nearly blowing the roof off. It seemed that this focal point of a match—Little Cai Long versus Monk—held immense appeal as well.

Fang Chen thought, "They really are starting to cull the herd..."

Zhao Tianxiong’s earlier claim of "cultivating several at once" was nothing but polite rhetoric. Resources were ultimately limited, and fame required a tighter focus. Pairing the four of them up for such high-profile internal matches was simply a final screening and positioning process. The winners would naturally receive a greater share of resources, while the losers would likely be reduced to stepping stones or even gradually marginalized.

He headed to the first basement floor and quickly changed into his combat uniform. Instead of going straight to the lounge, he made his way to the private viewing area reserved for fighters.

After a ten-minute wait, a highly inflammatory and intense piece of music blared. Over the speakers, the announcer’s voice echoed, pitched so high it bordered on hoarseness:

"Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for waiting! The upcoming duel will be the opening match of our Geta ’Future Stars’ series!

"Two equally brilliant super rookies, both bearing the weight of immense expectations.

"Little Cai Long versus Monk!

"Let me hear you cheer!"

"ROAAAR!!!"

A tsunami of deafening roars instantly erupted from the crowd below. Fang Chen leaned against the railing in the viewing area, his gaze dropping to the arena below. Cai Long and Monk were emerging from their respective tunnels. The announcer was still desperately hyping up the atmosphere, egging the two fighters on to exchange trash talk. Cai Long didn’t seem very good at it, simply staring coldly at his opponent. Monk, on the other hand, had the fat on his face trembling as spit flew from his mouth. He constantly made provocative gestures, driving the audience into an even wilder frenzy. The tipped cash had almost formed a small mound at the edge of the ring.

Fang Chen’s attention was primarily focused on Cai Long. He remembered that prior to the martial exam, Cai Long had been approaching the Mid-Stage True Martial Realm. Relying on his unique Cold Ice True Qi and decent combat skills, he had already fought his way to a net worth of thirty thousand. His strength definitely marked him as a standout among his peers.

During their recent trip to Cyan Yang City, Cai Long had purchased a Realm-Breaking Pill and a Qi Blood Needle. His cultivation realm was now solidified at the Late Stage of True Martial Realm. Thanks to the effects of the Qi Blood Needle, his Qi and Blood were exceptionally vigorous, and his volume of True Qi was no less than an ordinary fighter at Perfection.

In contrast, his opponent, Monk, possessed an Aura that Fang Chen had perceived during a previous chance encounter. Monk was merely at a regular Late Stage of True Martial Realm. While his Aura was exceedingly fierce, it lacked purity and adaptability.

Fang Chen evaluated, "It seems Little Cai Long has a better chance of winning."

An unusually large number of people had placed bets on this match as well. Little Cai Long’s payout odds were 1.2, while Monk’s were 1.7. Cai Long’s lower odds indicated that both the bookmakers and the majority of the audience favored him. The long queues at the betting area corroborated this fact—the number of people wagering on Cai Long was noticeably larger.

Another five minutes passed.

"CLANG!"

The crisp sound of the gong finally overpowered all the clamor, and the announcer bellowed, "The match—begins!"

The air in the arena tensed up in a split second. While the gong’s reverberations still lingered, the two fighters in the ring collided like cannonballs.

Cai Long took the initiative to attack! Wrapped in a chilling frost, his fist shot straight for the center. Facing Monk’s whistling heavy punch, he neither dodged nor evaded. Crossing his forearms, he forcefully blocked the strike. His feet rooted to the ground, he didn’t retreat a single half-step! Immediately after, he twisted his waist to generate force, driving a fierce elbow strike back at his opponent, accompanied by a blast of frosty energy!

"Good!"

"Tough!"

An even more passionate cheer erupted from the crowd below. Cai Long’s fighting style of "never circling when you can clash head-on" obviously catered perfectly to the tastes of most spectators. It was blood-pumping, sending everyone’s adrenaline soaring.

On the flip side, Monk’s fighting style was even simpler and more brutal. He possessed a burly physique with bulging muscles. Faced with Cai Long’s swift and fierce attacks, he often just turned slightly sideways or used his thick arms, shoulders, and back to endure the blows head-on, emitting a series of muffled THUDS. Even when the accompanying Cold Ice True Qi invaded his body and slightly slowed his movements, he could quickly stabilize himself relying on his savage strength and shock resistance. He would then retaliate with even more ferocious heavy punches and sweeping kicks, carrying such massive momentum and weight that they forced Cai Long to temporarily evade their sharp edge.

As fists and legs flew back and forth between the two, their energy violently clashed. Frost and fierce winds scattered and surged within the iron cage. The tempo of the match was incredibly fast and the offensive exchanges intense, yet neither fighter could establish a decisive advantage in one fell swoop.

As time ticked away by the minute and second, they had soon been fiercely engaged in combat for over five minutes. On the Geta ring, where swift resolutions were the norm, this was already a rare, drawn-out battle. Rather than growing fatigued, the audience below grew even crazier over this evenly matched tug-of-war. Tipped banknotes fluttered like snowflakes toward the edges of the ring, the sum skyrocketing.

Fang Chen’s gaze rested on Monk. Though the man went by the moniker "Monk," he was not bald. He kept a braid about two feet long and as thick as a thumb at the back of his head. Tied tightly with a dark leather cord, the braid whipped through the air in tandem with his intense movements.

Initially, Fang Chen hadn’t paid it any mind. But just moments ago, during a fierce grapple, a knee strike from Cai Long had forced Monk to the edge of the iron cage. The latter’s back slammed heavily against the chain-link fence, producing a loud crash.

"SCRAPE!"

The sound was extremely faint. Masked by the impact and the audience’s shouts, it was almost imperceptible, yet Fang Chen heard it clearly. It wasn’t the sound of flesh and bone crashing into a chain-link fence. Rather, it sounded like... some tough metallic wire, or a hard object infused with True Qi, rapidly scraping across a metal surface!

The source of the sound was none other than that flying braid behind Monk’s head!

Fang Chen’s eyes abruptly narrowed. He thought, "Something’s off... There’s something wrong with this braid."

A multitude of Martial Arts manuals and eccentric compendiums he had perused instantly flashed through his mind. Fragments of memories quickly pieced together, bringing up descriptions of several rather obscure, even bizarre Martial Skills: Iron Wire Hair Whip, Cyan Hair Killing Technique, Hair Tying Dragon Strength...

Without exception, these Martial Skills all involved soaking a full head of long hair or even specialized artificial braids in secret medicines and tempering them year-round with True Qi. Supplemented by a unique Force Manipulation Technique, the hair was trained to be as flexible as a steel whip and as sharp as a keen blade. They would remain hidden during normal times, only to strike out lethally at critical moments, making them impossible to guard against!

Fang Chen wondered, "Could it be...? Has he been hiding his true strength all along? Is his real Killing Technique actually hidden within this braid?"

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