Chapter 59: Man!

Zhao Yan laughed in annoyance—how could a seasoned player with Level 18 specialization in hand-to-hand combat be injured by a Level 7 non-combat newbie rated D-?

He had interacted with Wu Chang and sensed Wu Chang wasn't one of those anime-obsessed otakus who believed gaining extraordinary abilities automatically made them the protagonist, the center of the universe.

On the contrary, although Wu Chang's thinking was somewhat erratic, he wasn't arrogant; he understood his own strength and never mocked others lightly.

But not mocking was the greatest mockery.

It meant Wu Chang genuinely believed he could hurt him.

Who do you think you are—that mysterious new player who went viral the moment he debuted? If you weren't backed by Big Sis, I'd give you a lesson today.

Zhao Yan summoned the facial control of a seasoned instructor and smiled: "Don't be afraid—hit me all you want. If you hurt me, it's on me. You won't even pay for medical bills; if you land a hit, I'll buy you a drink in the Abyss Game."

Wu Chang scratched his head. "That's too embarrassing."

Zhao Yan took two deep breaths, steadying his raging emotions, and fixed Wu Chang with a salesman's commercial smile. "Hit me first, then talk."

He had decided: to help Wu Chang survive longer in the Abyss Game, he had to go serious—to make this kid understand that against absolute power, tricks won't work.

Even if it made him look foolish, if it corrected his warped method of clearing the game, Big Sis would probably be pleased.

Wu Chang stepped onto the arena and performed warm-up exercises: stretching his legs, opening his chest, twisting his torso, moving his wrists and ankles.

As if he were about to play a match, not a fight.

If certain groups saw this, they'd loudly praise: "Oh! This damn relaxed vibe!"

After warming up, Wu Chang turned to Zhao Yan. "Can we begin?"

Zhao Yan shrugged. "Whenever you're ready…"

Before he finished speaking, he saw Wu Chang's foot move—he sprinted toward him.

His movement speed was around 15 Agility—decent for a balanced player, but insufficient for a hand-to-hand specialist.

His footing was shaky, his steps blunt, offering no room for evasion or redirection.

Such a level of attack wanted to hurt him? In Zhao Yan's eyes, Wu Chang's movements were riddled with openings, like slow motion.

If he wanted, he could even stretch first, then sidestep and deliver a spinning low kick.

How should he win? Zhao Yan hadn't decided yet when Wu Chang changed tactics.

Wu Chang leapt into the air while still three meters away, raising his elbow high and slamming it toward Zhao Yan's face.

"Man!"

Zhao Yan was startled by the shout—though the kid's movements were ridiculous and his fighting style garbage, his voice was loud.

Full of spirit!

But wasn't this kid too disrespectful? Flying an elbow from three meters away—did he think Zhao Yan was dead? This attack would miss by a hair if Zhao Yan just stepped back half a step.

Then he wouldn't even need to move—just hands in pockets, shoulder lifting slightly with momentum, and he'd send this kid flying off the arena.

As a seasoned hand-to-hand specialist, the fight unfolded exactly as Zhao Yan's script predicted.

He stepped back half a step, watching Wu Chang's downward elbow slice past his nose.

He was about to thrust his shoulder upward when Wu Chang's body suddenly shifted sideways, appearing precisely at the optimal striking point—his elbow smashed into Zhao Yan's face.

The elbow dealt little damage but immense humiliation.

Zhao Yan saw blackness flash before his eyes, a strange dizziness surged in his skull, then his legs buckled—he staggered two steps backward and sat hard on the ground.

A warm stream gushed from his nostrils—he wiped it with the back of his hand: blood.

What the hell? What just happened?

How did he elbow me?

How did I end up sitting on the ground?

Not just Zhao Yan was stunned—several assistants watching from below were equally baffled.

From their view, the instructor's half-step back looked like he deliberately offered his face to Wu Chang's elbow.

Worse, they couldn't understand: previously, far more violent attacks had been effortlessly neutralized by the instructor, perfectly deflected.

Why did this ordinary elbow knock him out, draw blood, and send him to the ground? Was the instructor holding back? Who the hell is this guy on the arena—could he make the instructor sacrifice his dignity just to give him glory?

Zhao Yan grabbed the arena ropes and stood up—he now realized: this flying elbow was Wu Chang's control technique.

In the surveillance footage, Wu Chang had knocked out Blood Thorn with exactly this elbow.

Back then, they'd wondered: how could such an ordinary elbow catch Blood Thorn off guard?

He assumed Blood Thorn was just in poor condition and got lucky.

Now facing it firsthand, he saw this elbow had real substance.

Not only was it hard to dodge, its control effect lasted unusually long—he still felt dizziness half a minute later, occasional blackouts flickering in his vision.

Too bad the damage was pitiful—this skill was clearly only a control technique.

Zhao Yan wiped the blood from his hand and said:

"I was careless—I didn't dodge. That doesn't count. Let's go again."

Wu Chang looked pained. "Instructor, maybe we should just call it off. I told you my skill isn't suited for sparring—it hurts both body and spirit."

"Start again—I'm ready this time. You're…"

Before Zhao Yan finished speaking, Wu Chang leapt again—flying elbow incoming.

Shit, this little bastard—mouths about hurting body and spirit, but never hesitates, always attacks while I'm talking.

But this time he was prepared—he wouldn't be careless again.

Since the Wanghai City Administration's founding, no instructor had ever been defeated by a newbie.

He absolutely couldn't be the first. He imagined future training in the provincial office or support duty at other branches—everyone whispering behind his back: "That's the instructor who lost to a Level 7 assistant."

The thought made him shiver.

No way! His gaze hardened—he rallied himself: I'll dodge it! "Man!"

The powerful shout rang out again.

This time Zhao Yan unleashed agility as high as 40 points, his whole body becoming an afterimage as he circled to Wu Chang's side.

To play it safe, he crossed his hands in front of his body and, in a defensive stance, shoved forward, wanting to push Wu Chang off the arena.

But before he could make contact with Wu Chang, he saw Wu Chang's body defy inertia, forcibly changing the direction of his forward charge midair.

At the same time, Wu Chang, drawing on flexibility beyond that of an ordinary person, spun around and threw a backhand strike at an unexpected angle, slipping through his crossed defensive arms and landing an elbow squarely on his face.

And once again he couldn't withstand it, stumbling back a few steps and sitting down on the ground.

The second elbow strike sent the nosebleed he had just staunched gushing out again, and temporarily blinded him for half a minute.

By the time he recovered from the dizziness and blindness, he found Wu Chang had already stepped off the arena, giving him no chance for another sparring match at all.

Defeated.

Seeing the instructor sitting in a daze on the arena, the assistant who had never taken off his mask frowned, unable to tell whether the instructor was going easy or not.

The masked man was the first one Zhao Yan had chosen to step onto the arena to spar with, meaning he was the strongest fighter among the group. He was very confident in his own combat ability, believing that even against a player above level ten, he might not necessarily lose.

The masked man found Wu Chang and asked tentatively, "I'm a bit curious about your skill. Could we spar for a bit?"

Wu Chang put on his usual hesitant expression. "That might not be a good idea."

"It's fine, we're just having a friendly spar, no harm—"

"Man!"

Bang! An elbow strike combining speed, precision, and viciousness slammed hard into the masked man's face; the masked man's body tilted back and he dropped rigidly to the ground.

The masked man triggered dizziness, weakness, and poison—under the triple buff, he lay on the ground unable to move, his hands and feet twitching uncontrollably.

Wu Chang turned to look at the other colleagues and said with an innocent face, "I told you, my skill isn't suited for sparring."

(End of chapter)