Chapter-Twelve: Laughter
"Hahahahahahahaha~"
At first, Ning Chen was stunned by what he heard, but his shock quickly gave way to uncontrollable laughter. His laughter shook his entire body, escalating with every second.
Beneath the arrogant laughter, a dark, demonic nature simmered, accompanied by a rising, almost tangible anger.
All eyes turned to Ning Chen. The people around him stared with a mix of confusion, curiosity, and unease.
"That's fine," Ning Chen finally said, his laughter dying down. "I, Ning Chen, agree."
He walked straight through the crowd, his heavy footsteps echoing with purpose as he made his way to the arena. The spectators instinctively parted, clearing a path for him.
The atmosphere around Ning Chen grew heavy, like the dark clouds that gather before a violent storm or the pressure that builds before a volcanic eruption. His eerily calm eyes concealed a hint of wrath.
The onlookers, unable to tear their gaze away, watched every move Ning Chen made. Anticipation for the upcoming fist-and-kick sparring match filled the air.
Standing tall and imposing, Ning Chen exuded strength. His frame was broad and powerful, his bones and muscles like steel. His eyes, filled with raging waves of emotion, met Gu Yue Qingshu's calm, confident expression. Qingshu stood with his hands behind his back, a faint smile playing on his lips, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Classmate Ning Chen, shall we begin?" Qingshu asked politely.
"Let's get started," Ning Chen replied through gritted teeth, his fists tightening at his sides.
The anger surging in his heart left no room for patience.
The school master glanced between the two of them, an uneasy feeling rising in his chest. He couldn't shake the suspicion that this sparring match might spiral into something much deadlier.
"Alright, pay attention," the school master cautioned. "Let's begin now."
He gave Ning Chen a lingering, apprehensive look before stepping out of the ring.
As soon as the elder finished speaking, the two fighters launched forward like arrows released from a bow. Their rapid movements stirred gusts of wind.
In an instant, they converged in the center of the arena.
Qingshu wore a faint smile, but his hands moved like a venomous snake striking its prey. His quick, precise strikes aimed to take Ning Chen by surprise.
Yet Ning Chen remained composed, his expression calm as still water. His movements, however, were faster—much faster than Qingshu's.
Planting his feet firmly on the ground like the roots of a giant tree, Ning Chen used the stability to channel power into his Gang Fist. The punch tore through the air with incredible speed, heading straight for Qingshu's face.
This was no simple sparring move; it was imbued with murderous intent.
As the massive punch loomed closer, Qingshu's eyes widened in alarm. He raised his arms just in time to shield his face.
*Bang!*
The sound of the impact reverberated through the arena. The force of the blow pushed Qingshu back, leaving visible skid marks on the stone platform.
Shock coursed through Qingshu's body. His arms ached, a dull pain radiating from them. His fingers felt numb.
"This strength..." he thought, his heart sinking. "This Ning Chen is too terrifying. Just one punch and my arms feel like they've been struck by iron—it's unbearable."
But Ning Chen wasn't done. Pressing his advantage, he took another step forward. Qingshu's sore, numb arms left him vulnerable, unable to mount an effective defense.
This was Ning Chen's chance.
With eyes as deep as the ocean, Ning Chen unleashed a torrent of punches, each strike like a downpour battering a defenseless shore.
The blows were unrelenting, powerful, and aimed directly at vital points.
Qingshu struggled to block the attacks, but there were too many. Some punches he had no choice but to take head-on.
Chest. Abdomen. Ribs. Solar plexus. Nose bridge. Eyes.
Ning Chen's fists targeted them all, raining down without mercy.
Spectators gasped in astonishment. Moments earlier, Gu Yue Qingshu had bested Gu Yue Chishan in only five rounds. Yet here he was, completely overpowered by Ning Chen.
"Hey, this can't be real. Ning Chen's punches are insane!"
"There are so many fist shadows—I can't even keep up with his movements!"
"Qingshu's finished. There's no way he can win this."
"I don't know... maybe Brother Qingshu still has something up his sleeve."
Meanwhile, the elder overseeing the match watched with growing concern. His brow furrowed deeply as he observed Ning Chen's relentless onslaught.
"This Ning Chen... his combat skills are terrifying," the elder muttered to himself. "Every move is aimed at critical points, with such precision and overwhelming power. Even Qingshu can't find an opening to counterattack. He's a born fighter!"
Ning Chen's assault continued, each punch more ferocious than the last. He fought wildly, boldly, and with complete abandon.
"You think you can challenge me? Spar with me? My leniency has clearly emboldened your arrogance," Ning Chen growled under his breath.
Qingshu clenched his teeth, his body battered and bruised. The relentless barrage of punches left him sore and exhausted, his energy rapidly depleting.
But he didn't dare relax his defenses—not even for a moment. Beneath the storm of punches, he could feel it—the threat of death, looming closer with every passing second.
The Gang Fist struck like a dragon coiling or a snake slithering, like a tiger's claws tearing into a bear. The sheer, primal force behind it made Qingshu feel as though he wasn't facing a human opponent.
It was more like battling a wild beast.
*Boom!*
A punch landed with the brilliance of a full moon on a starry night, like an eagle diving from the heavens or a fish leaping through the sky. It shattered Qingshu's defenses and struck his chest directly.
Pain surged through Qingshu's body as the blood in his chest churned violently. He staggered back, his footing faltering.
Ning Chen's eyes gleamed with ferocity. Without hesitation, he whipped his leg through the air, aiming for Qingshu's lower body.
*Bang!*
The kick connected with the side of Qingshu's knee, unrestrained and merciless. His leg buckled, forcing him to kneel on one knee.
As Qingshu tried to regain his balance and stand, Ning Chen's iron-hard knee came into view, hurtling toward him. Panic flashed across Qingshu's face as he instinctively raised his hands to shield himself.
The knee strike collided with Qingshu's arms, but there was no time to recover. Ning Chen pressed forward relentlessly, pinning Qingshu beneath him.
Qingshu's heart raced with fear. Ning Chen was taller, heavier, and far stronger. How could he possibly fight back against such overwhelming pressure?
Ning Chen's eyes remained eerily calm, like the stillness of death itself. His leg pressed down on Qingshu's hands, trapping them beneath his weight.
How could an arm hope to overpower a leg? Qingshu's strength was no match for Ning Chen's crushing force.
From his position, Qingshu could see Ning Chen's eyes clearly. They were devoid of emotion, as though the battle had not stirred him in the slightest.
Ning Chen's fists, now unrestrained, began to rain down on Qingshu's face.
The blows landed on his nose, his eye sockets, his lips, his cheeks—each strike more brutal than the last.
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
The muffled sounds of impact echoed endlessly, sending chills through the onlookers.
"Oh my god, Ning Chen's attacks are so vicious! He's going to kill him!" someone exclaimed.
"Yeah, why is Ning Chen being so ruthless?" another murmured.
"Alas, Brother Qingshu is doomed to lose," a third sighed.
Beads of sweat formed on the school elder's forehead as he watched the fight with growing unease. His heart was heavy with worry.
This was no longer a sparring match between students. It had become a life-and-death struggle between Gu Masters.
The elder's sharp eyes remained fixed on the fight, unwilling to miss a single detail. Injuries to both participants would be a significant loss to the family.
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
At first, Qingshu tried to resist. But as the fight dragged on, his strength waned, and he stopped fighting back altogether.
Ning Chen's hands were now stained with blood, yet his expression remained as calm as a deep, undisturbed pool.
The school elder's gaze fell on the crimson streaks covering Ning Chen's fists. Alarmed, he shouted:
"Stop it!"
The elder leaped onto the ring in an instant, appearing beside Ning Chen.
Ning Chen felt his hand freeze mid-strike. He turned his head to see the elder gripping his wrist tightly, like an eagle clutching its prey.
Without much resistance, Ning Chen stood up, shook off the elder's grasp, and walked slowly toward the edge of the ring.
The elder watched Ning Chen's retreating figure before turning his attention back to Qingshu.
What he saw made his heart sink.
Qingshu's face was unrecognizable. Swollen and discolored, it resembled a grotesque caricature of a pig's head. Blood streaks and open wounds marred his skin, while dark purple bruises covered every inch of his flesh.
Qingshu had fallen into unconsciousness!