Late into the night, the gym remained brightly lit.
Up in the ring, the sounds of combat weren't just flesh-on-flesh but rather the clash of blades.
Xiang Nan gripped the curved blade he'd acquired from the hunting shop. His opponent stood facing him wielding a long staff.
They'd been brawling for hours, and after so many rounds against other fighters, Xiang Nan had escalated from barehanded combat to cold weapons. Of course, no one was aiming to kill—they only fought until the outcome was clear.
A sharp gust from the staff whistled toward him. Xiang Nan quickly ducked, raising his blade to parry. The instant their weapons clashed, the staff's outline blurred like a flexible rope, switching from a sweeping motion to a stabbing thrust.
The tip struck Xiang Nan's wrist, knocking the blade from his grasp, then came down at his shoulder.
This was already Xiang Nan's sixth opponent of the night, and he was clearly nearing his limits, with multiple injuries of varying severity. His face dripped with sweat.
Just as he was about to lose, Xiang Nan, in a shocking move, caught the staff blow with his bare hand. He gripped the shaft with all his strength, refusing to let it budge, and lunged forward to close the distance for some grappling.
Yet the staff user remained calm. No matter how fearsome Xiang Nan seemed—taking out five fighters in a row with impressive skill and intimidating aura—this man had noticed how drained Xiang Nan was. His top half was drenched in sweat, clothes disheveled, movements slowing down.
Releasing his grip on the staff, the staff-user planted his feet and delivered a swift elbow strike to Xiang Nan's chest as he charged in. Even though Xiang Nan crossed his arms in defense, he lacked the stamina to fully block it. The blow sent him flying off the platform.
By the rules they'd set beforehand, Xiang Nan had lost.
No cheers or jeers erupted from those watching. Whoever won or lost in this fight had everyone's respect.
For the martial artist with the staff, beating such a terrifying challenger proved he possessed impressive skills.
Meanwhile, Xiang Nan had managed to endure a series of back-to-back fights and still fought the sixth opponent to a near draw. No one else here would claim they had the ability—or guts—to do that.
"The money's yours," Xiang Nan said between ragged breaths, lying on the cold ground.
"You're really strong. If you'd recovered your stamina, I wouldn't have beaten you," the staff user said from atop the ring, admiration in his eyes.
In his view, Xiang Nan had lost because he'd been too arrogant—trying to take on every fighter in the gym by himself. From the start, they had the upper hand.
"If this had been a real fight to the death—one-on-one—you could've easily killed anyone here, including me." The martial artist's next words visibly startled the onlookers.
Someone who's exhausted is more likely to show raw instinct. While earlier matches followed the spirit of martial-arts sportsmanship—nobody used lethal force—this last fight revealed Xiang Nan's murderous edge.
There'd been moments when his eyes gave it away.
He was sure Xiang Nan had killed before—likely more than once.
In martial arts circles, there's a difference between "combat experience" and "non-combat experience." Real fighters with actual battlefield or life-or-death experience tend to remain calm, analyze every factor (environment, the target, etc.), and rely on a coldly efficient skill set.
In other words, the most dangerous situation is a "fight to the death." Someone who has lived through many life-or-death encounters has terrifying psychological resilience.
This martial artist could see Xiang Nan was restraining himself. If his goal had been purely to kill, the man now lying on the ground would've shown another, far deadlier side.
It was obvious the staff user had a wealth of experience himself and didn't care what others thought. He simply spoke the truth.
"A loss is a loss," Xiang Nan replied flatly, catching his breath. He got to his feet, gathered his bag, and, with his body covered in bruises and cuts, left under everyone's watchful gaze.
He didn't even look at the pile of money.
From the ring, the staff-wielding martial artist looked away, jumped down, and also departed without taking any money. It seemed the cash didn't matter to him. Read full story at NoveI-Fire.ɴet
He hadn't planned to fight so soon—he was just there to observe. But Xiang Nan's display of skill piqued his interest, and he just couldn't resist getting in the ring.
In truth, he was an instructor in the Republic of Padokea's royal army. That was why he was so sensitive to the lethal intent Xiang Nan occasionally let slip—he himself had taken lives.
He was only visiting Wesera City to train a bit and hadn't expected to witness something so interesting.
Exiting the gym, the instructor scanned the sparsely populated street below but couldn't find any sign of Xiang Nan. He'd slipped away.
"That bag of his… contains guns," the instructor thought.
The others hadn't noticed, but he had. He couldn't figure out Xiang Nan's true identity—there were too many unknowns.
What really intrigued him wasn't Xiang Nan's background but his terrifying learning speed. He was convinced that in each fight, Xiang Nan completely grasped his opponent's style and skill, then quickly integrated it into his own.
That, presumably, was the real reason he came in the middle of the night, tossing money around for fights.
"Interesting," the instructor murmured, hands in his pockets as he walked off down the stairs.
Xiang Nan stepped out of a small shop on the main commercial strip, now wearing a clean set of clothes. Even though it was late at night, this thriving port city still had plenty of districts—particularly entertainment areas—where stores stayed open and crowds roamed.
He glanced at the floating system screen in front of him. The countdown showed less than eight hours remaining—meaning that, by 11 a.m., the first round of the game would begin!
He unfolded a newly acquired map of Wesera City and studied it while walking, memorizing the layout of its districts. A piece of sweet chocolate sat in his mouth, replenishing his energy.
He was actually a bit hungry, but he chose not to eat a full meal since mild hunger can help keep the mind sharp.
"I overestimated myself," Xiang Nan reflected. Only now did he start going over the back-to-back battles he'd had in the gym.
He'd thought he could beat more than ten fighters, but in reality, he'd hit his limit by the fifth match.
"This body just can't keep up physically yet. It still needs training… but I definitely learned something," he thought with a slight grin.
He was satisfied with how his system talent worked: he wasn't merely "learning" a single opponent's combat technique, but truly perceiving the essence of their styles and rhythms, then blending those aspects into his own combat system, creating something new.
Considering what he knew from the original anime, the fighters tonight—if they entered the Sky Arena—would probably only rank at the bottom. They weren't actually top-tier. But even so, they were hardly pushovers.
At least his comprehension talent allowed him to pick up these "ordinary powers" at a high speed. He just didn't know if it would serve him as well when facing more unusual powers later on, should he survive that long. The higher the power level, the greater the difficulty in understanding it.
"This world's baseline physical abilities are already higher than back on Earth," Xiang Nan mused. "That last guy was special, though."
He was recalling the martial artist who finally beat him. The man had disguised himself with staff techniques, but something about his body language—and the look in his eyes—felt oddly familiar.
Probably a soldier, Xiang Nan guessed. He could sense it.
"All right, time to find a place to crash."
Chewing on his melting chocolate, Xiang Nan crumpled the map and tossed it into a nearby trash can. He then turned down a narrow, dimly lit alleyway, blending into the darkness.