Chapter 137: Quarterfinal Showdown - Jay vs Little One

Chapter 136

The arena had finally settled into a calm hush. The excited murmurs had faded as the announcer strode confidently onto the stage, his voice booming through the magically enhanced speakers.

"And now, the final battle of the quarterfinals in the Tournament of Power!" he declared with flair. "Contestants: Jay... versus... Little One!"

Cheers erupted as the first contestant stepped onto the stage.

Jay walked in with his usual carefree grin, waving at the crowd like a beloved celebrity. His presence radiated confidence, and his relaxed demeanor contrasted sharply with the intensity that had filled the arena just moments ago.

As he reached the center of the stage, his eyes wandered to a particular VIP section. The smile on his face softened as he spotted Laura. She stood up, giving him an energetic thumbs-up.

"You got this!" she shouted.

Nearby, Han crossed his arms, his expression darkening like a storm cloud. He muttered under his breath, "Could they be any more obvious?"

Jay turned toward him, casually giving Han a thumbs-up of his own, as if he had heard him. Han’s eye twitched. "I’m definitely roasting him later," he muttered.

The next contestant arrived.

Little One stepped onto the stage, matching Jay’s cheerfulness. He waved excitedly at the crowd, looking like an innocent child ready for a game rather than a fierce battle. But those who had seen him fight before knew better.



The referee stepped forward dramatically. "Let the match... BEGIN!"

With a sharp snap of his fingers, a loud boom echoed across the arena — signaling the start.

At first, no one moved.

Jay and Little One stared at each other, smiles still on their faces. The air between them tensed, like a taut wire ready to snap.

And then it exploded.

A blur of movement. Fists clashed. The crowd gasped as Jay and Little One engaged in a rapid exchange of blows, their movements so fast they were almost invisible to the naked eye. Their strikes were precise, calculated — a high-speed chess match with fists.

For a moment, it seemed like an even match. But gradually, it became clear that Jay was dominating. His martial arts prowess outclassed Little One, blow by blow. Though Little One was a skilled hand-to-hand fighter, Jay’s technique and raw battle sense placed him in a different league.

After a few more exchanges, Little One jumped back, landing a few meters away.

"I should really learn martial arts from you," he said, still grinning.

Jay shrugged. "I could teach you, but it’s not that easy."

"Trust me — I learn fast," Little One replied with a wink.

"Then let’s not keep the crowd waiting," he added — and with that, he vanished.

No — he shrunk.

Jay’s expression shifted. Serious now. He had seen firsthand the chaos that followed when Little One entered his miniature form. Smaller meant faster... and harder to detect.

Jay closed his eyes, focusing. He began circulating his Qi outward from his body, allowing him to feel the air currents — to sense any disturbances.

There! A flicker of movement.

Before he could react, a powerful impact slammed into his chest. He staggered back, eyes narrowing. "He’s fast..." Jay thought, gritting his teeth.

Once again, he shut his eyes, focusing even harder. With a sudden breath, his Qi exploded outward in a violent burst, disrupting the air around him.

A tiny figure was thrown midair, momentarily visible.

Little One’s brows furrowed. That hit should’ve done more... He had attacked with everything he had, yet Jay looked mostly unfazed.

Then — he felt it.

A pressure. Heavy. Oppressive. He turned — and found a shadow looming over him.

Jay stood above him, expression calm, one hand drawn back and glowing with radiant Qi.

"It’s over," Jay said simply.

BAM!

Darkness.

Little One’s body was sent crashing to the floor with a dull thud. As the unconscious form hit the ground, it returned to normal size.

"The winner — JAY!" the announcer shouted, his voice barely audible over the roaring cheers of the crowd.

The audience had barely been able to follow the fight — Little One’s miniature form had made the battle a blur — but the conclusion was clear. Jay’s dominance was undeniable.

On the big screen, the semifinal bracket appeared:

Semifinal Matchups:

Match One: Han vs The Null

Match Two: Jay vs Almighty

Since Jay’s battle had left the stage untouched, there was no delay for repairs. The next match would begin immediately.

---

A few minutes later, Han stood on the battlefield, staring at his opponent — The Null.

The creature was a formless mass of swirling darkness, a void where a face should be. Han swallowed hard. For the first time in a long while... he felt dread.

Something about him felt off—really off. Han narrowed his eyes.

Across the stage, the Null stood motionless. An eerie, swirling mass of shadow where a face should be. A creeping unease coiled around Han’s spine like a serpent.

The announcer stepped onto the platform, his voice booming through the arena.

"On one side, we have the enigma himself—Null, cloaked in mystery, his strength undeniable after his overwhelming victory against Elexa! And on the other—Han, the man known as the Fire God! Though he has yet to unleash his flames, his raw physical prowess alone has brought him this far.

So the question remains—will the Null finally force Han to reveal the fire, or will Han fall before the heat even rises?"

He raised his fingers and snapped.

BOOM! A loud bang signaled the start of the match.

But neither fighter moved.

Han had already activated his Analyzer Eyes. He wasn’t about to take chances with someone like this. His pupils glowed faintly as he studied every inch of his opponent—but Null remained still, unreadable.

Two full minutes passed. The crowd murmured in confusion, but Han had seen enough.

He struck first.

Bending slightly, he pulled his hands behind him in a clawed stance.



"Fourth Jungle Art: Cheetah Stride."

In a blur, he vanished—and reappeared in front of Null.

His punch shot forward—

But Null twisted away at the last second and countered with a straight jab to Han’s face.

Han barely managed to raise his arm to block—

BAM!

The impact echoed like thunder through the arena. Pain lanced through his bones as he was flung backward like a ragdoll.

Han somersaulted mid-air, skidding to a halt just before the edge of the stage. His breath came in shallow bursts.

Then—he froze. Danger.

Twelfth Jungle Art: Turtle Shield — Flame Style! he roared in his mind, summoning a dome of flame around himself.

CRACK!

The shield shattered instantly—like glass under a sledgehammer.

Another punch landed squarely on his ribs, launching him backward once more, his body rolling and scraping across the arena floor.

The crowd had gone silent. They could barely keep up—only blurs and shockwaves. And then... Han on the ground.

Null remained unmoved.

Internally, he sighed.

"Still not strong enough."

Han coughed, blood trailing down his chin. He staggered to his feet, vision shaking, pain surging through his ribs.

Then he heard it.

"Attack with all you’ve got," came the Null’s voice—distorted and hollow.

Han hesitated. Was this a trick?

"I said... attack me."

Fine, Han thought. If this lunatic breaks a few ribs, that’s his problem.

Han’s muscles tensed again.

Cheetah Stride!

He surged forward in another blur.

"Fourteenth Jungle Art: Tiger Punch — Flame Style!"

His fist ignited—glowing red-hot, flames spiraling around it like a dragon’s breath.

BOOM!

The impact cracked the air itself. The ground trembled. The golden barrier surrounding the arena rippled wildly—then shattered.

A second, backup barrier rose instantly, barely holding.

Silence followed.

When the smoke cleared, all eyes turned to the stage.

And every jaw dropped.

Han’s attack had landed cleanly.

Right on the Null’s chest.

But—there wasn’t even a scratch.

Nothing.

Han stared, disbelieving.

That punch... could’ve destroyed the entire arena. It was his strongest strike. Yet—nothing?

The black abyss of Null’s "face" stared into him.

"You’re too weak."

CRACK!

Another blow—lightning-fast. Han was launched into the air, skidding back as he fought to remain on his feet.

His eyes were wide—not from pain.

From rage.

"Too weak..."

The words echoed in his head—like the nightmare he’d had. That white-eyed entity... its mocking voice... its chilling stare...

Snap.



Something inside him broke.

"I’m... not weak..." he growled, eyes trembling.

His fists clenched.

"I’M NOT WEAK!"

"I’LL SHOW YOU!!"

He threw his arms wide. The temperature in the arena skyrocketed.

"IFRIT!" he roared.

A massive inferno erupted behind him, taking the form of a fire-creature—a towering, roaring elemental of rage.

Han’s crimson eyes locked onto Null.

"Merge."

---

To be continued...