Chapter 34

In the round of sixteen, there was still one pair left: Wang Zhaojing and Shi Manqiang. The battle ended quickly. Wang Zhaojing slapped Shi Manqiang's face hard, and while he closed his eyes, Wang Zhaojing struck his ribs and thighs, knocking him down directly.

Seeing this, Zhao Jin shook his head. He wasn't sighing over the disparity in strength, because the stronger boys meeting too early in the competition made the final rounds less suspenseful. Zhao Jin pondered whether to set up a few seeded players for the next day, with some rules for priority draws or byes.

"Who is number three?" Chen Hong shouted dramatically. Zhao Jin raised his hand, and turning his head, he saw Wang Zhaojing smiling and raising his hand. He didn't expect them to meet in the quarterfinals.

Wang Zhaojing's smile was sincere. He was genuinely happy because he thought Zhao Jin didn't fight because he lacked the ability. Every time, Zhao Jin would fight through the easier early rounds and then give up, making it seem like Wang Zhaojing was always the winner.

There was another reason. Wang Zhaojing felt he should be the center and focus here. Losing to Chen Sheng was just a fluke, and beating him wasn't hard, so he didn't take it to heart. However, when he arrived, these people from Xuzhou's countryside didn't pay much attention to him, only treating Zhao Jin as the core. This made him feel very不服气 (unfair).

Moreover, there was a hidden reason. Every time Wang Zhaojing saw Zhao Jin with Mu Shulan, he felt uncomfortable. Such a pure and innocent girl barely acknowledged him but was close to Zhao Jin, who was inferior to him.

Wang Zhaojing felt everything was "unfair," and he believed he could resolve it by winning the fight.

"Brother Zhao also brought something today. How about we use weapons?" Wang Zhaojing saw the five-foot wooden rod Zhao Jin had brought.

Zhao Jin nodded, and a boy nearby eagerly brought it over. Wang Zhaojing then suggested with a smile, "Brother Zhao, let's not just tap with the sticks. Let's follow the rules of the competition: the fight ends when one is knocked down or concedes. What do you think?"

That kind of tapping wouldn't show a clear winner to the crowd, but knocking someone down or making them surrender would clearly demonstrate the victor's strength.

It wasn't hard to guess the boy's thoughts. Even for a relatively outstanding boy, Zhao Jin knew what Wang Zhaojing was thinking. He was determined to fight to the end today and had brought his weapon, precisely because of Wang Zhaojing's appearance.

Zhao Jin readily agreed to Wang Zhaojing's request, and the latter's smile widened. He thought the other side hadn't understood the key points and that he had secured the most favorable conditions.

Yesterday, Chen Sheng and Wang Zhaojing had a very exciting match, with both sides exchanging blows. Today, it was rare to see Zhao Jin bring a weapon, and the boys immediately gathered around, though no one dared to take the little girl's place, letting Mu Shulan stay in the front row.

Wang Zhaojing held the short stick in one hand, pointing it at Zhao Jin, and slowly spread his body like a bowstring. Zhao Jin held the wooden rod horizontally, took a step forward, and lowered his body. He could roughly predict Wang Zhaojing's next move; whether attacking or defending, there would be many variations.

But Zhao Jin quickly reacted. He didn't care about the variations; his technique was simple—just thrust straight forward with full force.

"Begin!" Chen Hong shouted loudly. Before the words were out, Zhao Jin took a large step forward, thrusting the rod with both arms, charging straight ahead!

Wang Zhaojing's short stick suddenly swung outward, trying to block and then counterattack, but he immediately realized it was wrong. Zhao Jin's direct thrust was the fastest and most powerful, using both arms and the momentum of running. He couldn't block it, and by the time he realized this, it was too late to dodge.

He was struck hard in the chest, lost his balance, and fell backward, landing heavily on the ground.

Wang Zhaojing, sitting on the ground, opened his mouth wide, feeling as if his chest had been shattered, unable to breathe. His heart pounded wildly. In that brief confrontation, he suddenly felt fear. Reflecting on it, that moment wasn't just a fight; Zhao Jin seemed to be trying to kill him.

Wang Zhaojing didn't know what killing felt like, but in that instant, he had an inexplicable feeling.

According to the rules, Wang Zhaojing wasn't considered defeated yet, but it was easy to resolve. Zhao Jin poked Wang Zhaojing's shoulder with the stick. By this time, Wang Zhaojing could breathe again and quickly waved his hand to concede.

After he conceded, the surrounding boys didn't cheer. Not just Wang Zhaojing, but everyone felt that intense killing intent. They might not have recognized it as such, but they were all scared.

Zhao Jin looked around, and the crowd finally erupted in applause. Zhao Jin didn't care much about the cheers. In those few moves, he understood what his uncle Zhao Zhenxing had meant by battlefield skills and relentless advance.

Coincidentally, in the semifinals, Zhao Jin faced Chen Sheng. Chen Sheng couldn't hide his excitement, already holding the short stick without asking.

Wang Zhaojing looked a bit dejected but, being a boy, he still came over to watch, holding his chest.

"Use weapons?" Zhao Jin asked, and Chen Sheng nodded eagerly. Zhao Jin shook his head and smiled.

Zhao Jin held the wooden rod horizontally, in a spear-like position, while Chen Sheng gripped the short stick with both hands, raising it over his head.

As soon as they took their stances, the scene fell silent. The boys could vaguely sense the tension between them.

"One with a spear, one with a knife, Xuzhou truly has a strong martial spirit," Wang Zhaojing muttered, holding his chest.

Once both sides were ready, Chen Hong shouted "Begin!" Zhao Jin didn't wait for a counter; he roared and charged forward with the wooden rod.

As Zhao Jin charged, Chen Sheng took a step forward and swung the short stick, not at Zhao Jin but at the wooden rod. It struck the front of the rod, causing it to wobble. Chen Sheng's short stick then slid along the rod toward Zhao Jin's hand.

If it were a real blade, it would have cut off Zhao Jin's hand, but Zhao Jin only remembered to charge forward. When his rod was blocked, he dropped it and pounced, now using his fists as the rod, as the "spear."

Chen Sheng's attention was on Zhao Jin's rod, and he didn't expect Zhao Jin to charge so fiercely. In a panic, he couldn't pull back his short stick in time and was hit in the chin by Zhao Jin's fist. He staggered and was kicked in the thigh, falling to the ground.

"Wow," everyone involuntarily gasped. No one expected Zhao Jin's attack to be so fierce.

Zhao Jin panted heavily, then pulled Chen Sheng up. He didn't notice that he now had the strength to lift such a big boy.

"You're so strong, why didn't you come earlier? That was really exciting... Ouch!" Chen Sheng was excited by the fight but winced in pain as he spoke.

In the final, Zhao Jin faced Ji Xiang. Ji Xiang had barely beaten Liu Yong and didn't expect to face Zhao Jin. He first looked dejected, then scratched his head and said, "I can't win anyway, might as well give it a try."

The surrounding boys laughed. The atmosphere was good, and everyone was happy that Zhao Jin, considered the strongest, had proven his strength without losing to the outsider Wang Zhaojing.

As Chen Hong was about to shout "Begin," there was a commotion at the southern entrance.

"Good dogs don't block the way, get out of here!" "Brat, get lost!"

Someone was cursing, and it wasn't from the cargo yard. Zhao Jin immediately recognized the voices and turned to look. The boys at the southern entrance hurriedly moved aside, and five young men swaggered in.

These five looked to be around eighteen or nineteen, wearing ill-fitting cotton coats and leather robes, which were quite dirty. The leader was tall and thin, with a small head that looked like a steamed bun on a bamboo stick. He had triangular eyes, purple lips, and a grass stem in his mouth, looking quite thuggish.