86: Chapter 86 Your strength is good, but your technique is too rough.

Boom!

The audience exploded.

Some people tore their lottery tickets to shreds, while others excitedly spilled their cola onto the forehead of a bald uncle in the front row.

"Is this cheating? That's Lei Meng! A monster with strength breaking three hundred!"

"Are you blind? A direct head-on clash without even dodging a skill—is this called cheating?"

"What kind of anatomy does this Blank Slate even have? I didn't even see that Move clearly just now, how did Lei Meng go flying?"

Zhang Wei stood on his chair, waving that banner like a battle flag.

"Pay up! Pay up! I ask you, who else thinks this is luck? This is called Ancient Martial Arts! This is called Inch Power! A bunch of bumpkins who have never seen the world!"

On the arena stage.

Lin Qi straightened his slightly disheveled collar and did not immediately leave the stage.

He walked to the edge of the guardrail.

Lei Meng was lying on a stretcher, his chest heaving violently, his mouth covered in blood foam, his bull-like eyes wide open, staring fixedly at Lin Qi.

There was no malice in that gaze, but rather a sense of confusion after his worldview had collapsed.

Lin Qi extended his hand.

This was the hand that had almost smashed his sternum into powder just a moment ago.

The medical staff nervously tried to intervene, fearing that Lin Qi might deliver another blow.

"Don't Move."

Lei Meng pushed the medical staff away, struggled to lift his arm, and gripped Lin Qi with a palm swollen like a steamed bun.

He used the leverage to sit up.

"Cough, cough..."

Lei Meng coughed up a mouthful of blood, but he grinned; the smile was uglier than crying.

"Your strength is very strange."

"It's not strength."

Lin Qi said calmly: "It is the method of applying force. You have brute strength, but you only know how to go straight like a bulldozer. Before your force is even transmitted to your fist, thirty percent of it is lost in your joints."

Lei Meng was stunned for a moment.

If anyone else dared to lecture him like this, they would have already been smashed flat by his fist.

But Lin Qi had just smashed him flat.

"I have learned something."

Lei Meng let go, staggered, and lay back on the stretcher, "Next time, I will train well before coming to find you."

"I'll be ready anytime."

Lin Qi turned and left the stage.

In the VIP box at the highest point of the spectator stand.

The wine glass in Li Shaobai's hand shattered with a "pop."

Red wine flowed through his fingers, like blood.

"Mountain-Leaning Strike..."

He stared at Lin Qi's departing back, his face so gloomy it seemed like water could drip from it: "This bastard actually hid so deeply. That burst just now—even my 'Sword Shield' might not be able to withstand it."

Several lackeys nearby were terrified into silence, not even daring to breathe loudly.

"Check the force application principle of that Move just now." Li Shaobai threw away the glass shards and took out a handkerchief to wipe his hands, "This kind of pure physical burst must have a price; I don't believe his Physical Body can keep taking this kind of toll."

...

Contestant lounge.

As soon as the door closed, Lin Qi's calm and indifferent master demeanor instantly collapsed.

He grimaced while clutching his right shoulder, sucking in a cold breath.

"Hiss—did this big guy grow up eating rocks? His bones are really hard."

"Serves you right."

Old Mo sat in the corner and handed over a cup of pitch-black medicinal soup, "Weren't you quite handsome just now? Head-on clash, pulling someone with one hand—such Grandmaster bearing."

Lin Qi took the medicinal soup and gulped it down, his features twisting together from the bitterness.

"How can I not put on a show? I'm the focus of the whole venue now; I can't lose my Aura."

Although that Mountain-Leaning Strike sent Lei Meng flying, the force of the action was mutual.

Even with the "Diamond Bone" enhancement, Lin Qi felt that his shoulder blade had developed fine cracks.

That sense of vibration still lingered in his bone marrow.

"This is the troublesome part about being a Body Cultivator."

Old Mo put down his thermos and said with rare seriousness: "Kill one thousand enemies, lose eight hundred of your own. Although your Physical Body strength has improved, your recovery ability is still a shortcoming. If you encounter someone who plays a war of attrition with you, you'll be in trouble."

Lin Qi sat cross-legged and circulated his breathing technique to process the medicinal power.

"As long as I fight fast enough, there won't be a war of attrition."

"Young people are just too naive."

Old Mo took a folded document from his pocket and threw it onto Lin Qi's lap, "Take a look, your opponent for tomorrow's quarterfinals. This is the type that specifically counters you."

Lin Qi picked up the document.

In the photo was a thin young man with long cyan hair and a frivolous look in his eyes.

Name: Su Feng.

Talent: A-rank [Wind Speaker].

Class Rating: High-Agility Assassin/Ranger.

"Su Feng?"

Lin Qi frowned slightly.

This person was quite famous in school, not because he could fight, but because—he was despicable.

"This kid is the biggest dark horse this year." Old Mo pointed to the data on the document, "His movement speed is the fastest you have encountered so far. The most disgusting thing is his fighting style, commonly known as 'kiting.' He won't fight you head-on; he'll stay thirty meters away and throw wind blades. If you chase him, he runs; if you stop, he attacks."

Lin Qi looked at that glaring agility value.

Much more troublesome than a clumsy tank like Lei Meng.

A close-range burst Move like Mountain-Leaning Strike is a joke if it can't hit anyone.

"And this kid has two top-tier items that increase movement speed," Old Mo added, "If you want to catch up to him with just your two legs, unless you install a rocket booster on your legs."

Lin Qi put down the document and closed his eyes.

In his mind, the treasure trove of memories belonging to the "Martial Saint" slowly opened.

He hadn't encountered few of these high-agility, run-around opponents in games before.

How did he fight them back then?

Oh, right.

Since he couldn't catch them, then he would use Earth-Shrinking Steps.

"Old Mo, lend me a place."

Lin Qi suddenly opened his eyes and sprang up from the ground.

"What for?"

"Training my legs."

Lin Qi loosened his ankles, his joints making crisp popping sounds like beans, "Since he is wind, then I must be faster than the wind. I'm going to practice 'Eight-Step Cicada-Chasing'."

Old Mo raised an eyebrow, "Without Internal Energy support, this footwork is just a self-mutilating Move. Do you want to cripple your knees?"

"As long as I can win this match, I can fix them after they're crippled."

Lin Qi grabbed several bottles of bruise oil from the table and pushed the door open to leave.

"I'm going to that abandoned warehouse; don't wait for me for dinner."

Old Mo watched the door close again, shook his head, but a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Madman."

...

The next day.

The arena's popularity was even more explosive than yesterday.

In the quarterfinals, every match was a clash between strong opponents.

Especially for Lin Qi, the biggest dark horse, the odds had now dropped from the initial 1 to 50 down to 1 to 2.

"Dear audience! Next up is the second match of the quarterfinals!"

The commentator's voice was full of passion, "On one side is the 'Blank Slate Martial Artist' Lin Qi, who advanced by crushing opponents with absolute violence! On the other side is the 'Son of Wind' Su Feng, with mysterious movement techniques and undefeated so far!"

Amidst the cheers, Su Feng landed lightly on the arena stage.

He was wearing a pair of boots that shimmered with cyan light, and his whole person seemed like a weightless feather.

"Yo, big guy."

Su Feng looked at Lin Qi, who had just walked onto the stage, and whistled, "I heard you're quite good at ramming? Too bad, I'm not that big fool Lei Meng."

He drifted back a distance, exactly at the edge of his thirty-meter maximum effective range.

"I hope you can touch the hem of my clothes, otherwise this match will be too boring."

Lin Qi didn't speak.

He just silently tied his shoelaces tighter, wrapping them around twice more.

The referee raised his hand.

"Match start!"

Swish!

Before the words had even faded, Su Feng's figure had already disappeared from where he stood.