Chapter Eleven: Valor and Might

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The monkey was severely injured, frightening all the members of the Ninth High Martial Arts Team. Martial arts were meant for a better life, and though the team enjoyed generous benefits, no one thought it worth risking their lives.

The second to step onto the stage was Vice Captain Wang Tiesong, who practiced the Iron Bull Fist—a style boasting both strength and endurance. Though not as burly as Bai Xiang, he was not far behind. Wang Tiesong was visibly shaken, fighting timidly and attempting to circle Bai Xiang rather than confront him.

Despite his weight, Bai Xiang possessed remarkable explosive power. He cornered Wang Tiesong and unleashed a ferocious series of punches, one of which smashed into Wang Tiesong’s jaw, sending his mouthguard flying.

Wang Tiesong slumped against the glass wall, collapsing in a heap and losing consciousness.

The Ninth High students, still cheering for their main team, fell silent at the sight of that punch.

Medical personnel rushed onto the stage, and Gao Wu, full of concern, went up to help. With Wang Tiesong’s size, lifting him was no easy task, so assistance was needed.

Gao Wu wiped the blood from Wang Tiesong’s mouth, and quietly bestowed upon him a Blue Dragon Divine Qi blessing.

Bai Xiang’s punches were brutal; the poor boy’s jaw was shattered. Gao Wu couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

In the end, there was little personal animosity between them, even if they weren’t friends, and at most, they found each other disagreeable.

The human body is precious, yet fragile. Every time it suffers severe trauma—even if it heals—the blow greatly depletes one’s vitality.

Wang Tiesong’s injury was so grave that even with recovery, his life force would be greatly diminished. To put it plainly, Wang Tiesong’s path in martial arts might end here.

The mass cultivation of martial artists was intended to combat the beasts of the other world. This path was inherently brutal.

The Martial Arts League was a crucial part of the martial artist training system. The high school league was relatively gentle, and such consecutive severe injuries were rare.

All members of the Ninth High Martial Arts Team hung their heads low, none daring to look at Coach Huang Hai.

Two consecutive serious injuries had truly terrified them. Now, everyone dreaded hearing their name called.

Huang Hai’s expression was gloomy; his disciples’ cowardice was disgraceful.

His gaze swept over Gao Wu, who, in contrast to the others, showed no fear—only eager anticipation.

Then he looked at Huang Long, who sat slumped, shoulders hunched and head bowed, trying to shrink into himself despite his size.

Huang Hai had intended for his nephew to take the stage, at least to show Ninth High Huang Long’s courage. But in this state, Huang Long would only embarrass himself.

And if he were injured, it would be more trouble.

Gao Wu, on the other hand, seemed to possess true courage, making Huang Hai reevaluate him.

After some thought, Huang Hai spoke to Gao Wu, “Today, you’ll serve as the main fighter. Go on, don’t disgrace Ninth High.”

“Thank you, Coach, for giving me this opportunity. I’ll do my best to win!” Gao Wu dared not promise victory over Bai Xiang, but he was eager to test himself against this brutal opponent.

Huang Hai didn’t want Gao Wu to lose badly—his own reputation mattered more now. Seeing Gao Wu’s enthusiasm and lack of fear, he was satisfied.

He patiently analyzed Bai Xiang’s situation for Gao Wu: “Bai Xiang’s eyes are blood-red; he may have injected Red Dragon Serum, which increases muscle strength by about thirty percent for a short period. The drug works well, but it consumes a huge amount of energy. Given Bai Xiang’s large body, he won’t last long.”

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“Bai Xiang’s brutality is deliberate—to intimidate so no one dares fight him to the death. That way, he can defeat five in the shortest time.”

He glanced at Bai Xiang inside the ring, assessed his state, then continued: “Your strengths are your resilience and stamina. Move carefully, don’t let Bai Xiang grapple you.

“If you can hold out till the third round, you’ll have a chance to win.”

“Coach, I understand.” Gao Wu had thought along these lines, though he was uncertain about the Red Dragon Serum’s effect; Huang Hai’s explanation clarified things.

Heavyweight and muscle mass were great advantages, but they also meant enormous energy consumption.

Each round lasted three minutes; it seemed short, but constant punching and movement drained stamina at an astonishing rate.

Especially since Bai Xiang had taken the drug, his energy consumption was at least doubled.

Huang Hai lowered his voice, “I have a neural overclocking agent—commonly called ‘Flying Squirrel.’ Once injected, it heightens your senses, accelerates neural response, and sharpens your focus.”

“Flying Squirrel lasts about an hour, with little energy drain. Afterwards, it can further improve your neural response. You’re far behind Bai Xiang; if you want to win, you need to be ruthless with yourself.”

Gao Wu was tempted, but he didn’t trust Huang Hai.

This combat-specific drug targets the central nervous system, easily crossing the blood-brain barrier and potentially damaging brain tissue; the side effects are considerable.

The Blue Dragon Divine Qi blessing could heal physical and organ injuries, but might not counteract the neural damage caused by such drugs.

With the Infinite Merit Book, Gao Wu could steadily progress—there was no need for reckless risk, nor was a single match’s result worth it.

“Thank you, Coach, but the drug is too expensive for me,” Gao Wu replied. “Let me try without it first.”

“As you wish.” Huang Hai did not insist. The league didn’t prohibit drugs, but neither did it encourage them.

The choice was entirely up to the martial artist. Forcing students to inject drugs was a serious crime.

Gao Wu tied his black headband, did a few warm-up exercises, and stepped lightly into the ring.

A middle-aged referee came to inspect the headband, fingerless gloves, and shoes. The headband, made of special material, protected the temples and back of the head.

The fingerless gloves protected both fighters.

The competition shoes were styled like cloth slippers, but designed as sock-like wraps; firm in shape, yet soft.

First, to protect the toes; second, for aesthetics.

The league had been held for decades, with mature rules.

Uniform martial arts attire and shoes were required, with an emphasis on style and elegance. The martial artist’s image mattered.

Overall, the goal was to display the martial artist’s spirit and convey positive values to the public.

Gao Wu, in loose gray-and-white martial arts attire, showed the snowy white collar and cuffs of his inner shirt, standing tall and slender in the ring’s center—a striking figure.

Especially the vibrant fighting spirit in his expression, which far surpassed the two boys before him.

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The giant screen at the venue displayed Gao Wu’s subtle expressions in sharp detail.

The students of Ninth High, suppressed for so long, couldn’t help but applaud and cheer, rallying behind Gao Wu.

Many had come specifically to see Gao Wu; his entrance excited them. Some called out his nickname: “Saint Gao will win! Saint Gao will win!”

This rare nickname wasn’t widely known, but as it rang out, more people spontaneously joined the chant.

No one liked to lose; as students of Ninth High, in this moment, they desperately yearned for victory—hoped Gao Wu would defeat the fierce Bai Xiang.

The likes and dislikes of youth are always so simple and honest.

Many even thought ‘Saint Gao’ was Gao Wu’s name, and joined the chant.

The “Saint Gao will win” slogan quickly became an orderly rally, echoing and rising throughout the vast martial arts hall, as if it might lift the roof.

All other noises were drowned by the storm of thousands shouting together.

Even Song Mingyue, watching from her tablet, could feel the feverish atmosphere of the venue.

She paid no mind to the excitement, only watching Gao Wu as he saluted all directions in the ring.

The youthful resolve and fighting spirit between his brows at that moment was more steadfast and powerful than the roaring crowd.

Shen Yue, seated in the back row of the martial arts team, was recording the scene on his phone. He’d already decided to make a series of videos starring Gao Wu.

Now, he couldn’t help but shout with the crowd: “Saint Gao, victory!”

No matter how loudly he called, his hand holding the phone was steady—he was determined to capture these moments, to record the journey of youthful passion and growth! Even if Gao Wu failed, such a story would still be thrilling.

Bai Xiang stood at the ring’s center, looking down at Gao Wu. He thought for a moment, then said, “You’re the guy who saved someone, huh…”

Bai Xiang’s broad face, full of brute flesh, wore a sneering smile. He wagged his finger at Gao Wu, “This is the ring, not a place for internet celebrity theatrics!”

Gao Wu grinned, pointing warmly at Bai Xiang’s face, “Classmate, wipe your face.”

He paused, then added slowly, “Clean up, because I’m about to show up all over your face.”

“You, damn—” Bai Xiang, already manic from the drug, erupted in fury, his face flushing crimson, even his neck turning bright red.

The enraged Bai Xiang was no joke; he resembled a furious beast, a menacing aura radiating from every inch of his body.

Many students watching the giant screen were frightened by Bai Xiang’s ferocity, and the once orderly chants became a bit chaotic…

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