Chapter 59: Man!

Zhao Yan was so infuriated by Wu Chang that he almost laughed. As an eighteen-level veteran player specializing in combat, could he possibly be injured by a 7th-level non-combatant rookie with a D-minus evaluation?

He had conversed with Wu Chang before and could tell that Wu Chang wasn't one of those delusion-ridden chuunibyou who thought obtaining supernatural abilities automatically promoted them to the protagonist and made the world revolve around them.

On the contrary, while Wu Chang's train of thought was a bit unorthodox, he was not arrogant, could accurately gauge his own strength, and did not casually mock others.

However, the absence of mockery was the greatest mockery of all.

It meant that in his heart, Wu Chang genuinely believed he could hurt him.

Who do you think you are? That mysterious rookie who debuted and immediately caused a global bidding frenzy?

If it weren't for the Big Sis standing behind you, I would definitely teach you a lesson today.

Displaying the facial management skills expected of an instructor, Zhao Yan forced a smile and said, "Don't be afraid, just hit me. If you hurt me, it's on me. Not only will I cover your medical bills, but the moment you enter the Abyss Game, I'll treat you to a drink."

Wu Chang scratched his head. "I'd feel bad about that."

Zhao Yan took two deep breaths to steady his surging urge to go berserk, then looked at Wu Chang with a salesperson's business smile. "Just hit me first."

He had already decided that for Wu Chang to go further in the Abyss Game, he had to use a bit of real effort so this kid understood that in the face of absolute power, playing tricks was useless.

Even if it made him lose a little face, as long as it helped cure the kid's bizarre way of clearing levels, the Big Sis should be pleased.

Wu Chang stepped onto the ring and went through warm-up exercises before a physical education class: leg stretches, chest expansion, torso twists, and rotating his wrists and ankles.

He looked as though he were about to face a ball game rather than a combat match.

If certain crowds were to witness this, they would undoubtedly praise loudly, "Oh! That damned sense of effortless composure!"

Finishing his warm-up, Wu Chang turned to Zhao Yan. "Can we start now?"

Zhao Yan shrugged and said, "Anytime..."

Before he could finish his sentence, he saw Wu Chang's feet move as he broke into a run toward him.

Judging by his movement speed, his agility was around 15. For a balanced-build player, that wasn't bad, but for a combat-specialized player, it wasn't good enough.

His footing was unsteady, his footwork rudimentary, and he could only move in straight lines without any room for shifting, dodging, or maneuvering.

Did he really think an attack of this level could hurt him?

In Zhao Yan's eyes, Wu Chang's movements were full of flaws and resembled slow motion.

If he wanted to, he could even afford to stretch first, walk around to Wu Chang's side, and deliver a low whipping kick.

How should he win this?

Before Zhao Yan could settle on a proper way to win, he saw Wu Chang change his routine.

Wu Chang leaped into the air when he was still three meters away, raised his elbow high, and smashed it toward his face.

"Man!"

Zhao Yan was startled by the shout. Although the kid in front of him had comical movements and a terrible fighting style, his voice was certainly loud.

Full of spirit!

However, wasn't this kid looking down on people a bit too much? Launching a flying elbow from three meters away—did he take him for a corpse?

For an attack like this, he only needed to take half a step back, and the flying elbow would brush right past the tip of his nose and miss.

By then, he wouldn't even need to strike back; he could just keep his hands in his pockets, use his shoulder for leverage, and flick upwards to send the kid flying right out of the ring.

As a veteran player specializing in combat, the course of the battle proceeded exactly along the script Zhao Yan had anticipated.

He gently stepped back half a step, watching Wu Chang's downward-clearing elbow glide right past the tip of his nose.

Just as he prepared to shrug his shoulder upward to lift him, Wu Chang's body inexplicably shifted sideways in mid-air, suddenly appearing at the optimal spot for generating force, and drove an elbow right into his face.

This elbow had very little lethality, but an extreme amount of disrespect.

Zhao Yan only felt his vision go dark, a strange wave of dizziness washing over his mind, followed by weakness in his knees. He staggered back two steps and sat flat on his buttocks on the ground.

A warm current gushed from his nasal cavity. He wiped it with the back of his hand—it was a nosebleed.

Wait, what? What just happened?

How did he manage to elbow me?

And how did I end up sitting on the ground?

Not only was Zhao Yan left dazed by that elbow, but the assistants watching from below the ring were equally dumbfounded.

From their perspective, the instructor's half-step back looked as though he had voluntarily welcomed Wu Chang's elbow with his own face.

Furthermore, what they couldn't wrap their heads around was that the instructor had effortlessly neutralized and perfectly blocked previous attacks that were far more ferocious than this flying elbow.

How could he take such an ordinary elbow, bleed from the nose, and end up sitting on the ground?

Surely the instructor wasn't throwing the match, was he?

What was the background of this guy in the ring to make the instructor willing to sacrifice his dignity just to help him stand out?

Zhao Yan grabbed the ropes of the ring and hoisted himself up. By now, it had dawned on him that this flying elbow was what Wu Chang called a crowd-control skill.

In the surveillance video, that was precisely how Wu Chang had knocked down Blood Thorn with a single elbow.

Back then, they had found it baffling: how could Blood Thorn fail to dodge such a mediocre elbow?

They had simply assumed Blood Thorn's condition was too poor and that Wu Chang had just capitalized on a lucky break.

Now facing it firsthand, he realized there was indeed something unusual about that elbow.

Aside from being difficult to dodge, the accompanying crowd-control effect lasted an absurdly long time. After waiting half a minute, he still felt a lingering dizziness, and his vision occasionally darkened.

Unfortunately, the damage was so low that this skill was destined to remain purely crowd control.

Zhao Yan shook the blood off his hand and said, "I was careless just now; I didn't dodge. Let's pretend that didn't happen and go again."

With an expression of utter reluctance, Wu Chang said, "Instructor, maybe we should forget it. Like I said, my skills aren't suited for sparring; it hurts harmony."

"Go ahead and start. I'm prepared this time. You're—"

Before Zhao Yan could finish, he saw Wu Chang spring into the air, launching another flying elbow.

Tch, this little bastard! Saying it hurts harmony with his mouth, but hesitating not a single second when he actually moves, always launching sneak attacks before he can finish his sentence.

Still, he was prepared this time and wouldn't be overconfident again.

Ever since the Haicheng Municipal Bureau was established, no instructor had ever been taken down by a rookie.

He absolutely refused to become the first!

Thinking about how future visits to provincial training sessions or reinforcements to other branch bureaus would have people whispering behind his back, "That's the instructor who got beaten by a 7th-level assistant," made him shudder involuntarily.

No way was he letting that happen!

His gaze turned resolute, and he pumped himself up internally: I will dodge it!

"Man!"

The high-pitched shout full of fierce momentum rang out once more.

This time, channeling his agility stat of up to 40 points, Zhao Yan transformed into a blur and darted to Wu Chang's side.

To be safe, he crossed his arms in front of his chest in a defensive posture and shoved forward, intending to push Wu Chang out of the ring.

However, before he could make contact with Wu Chang, he saw Wu Chang's body defy momentum, abruptly changing its forward trajectory right in mid-air.

At the same time, leveraging flexibility far beyond an ordinary person's, Wu Chang spun around and delivered a backhanded strike, slipping through the cross-guard of Zhao Yan's arms at an unexpected angle to smash an elbow straight into his face.

Once again, he found himself unable to block it, stumbling back a few steps to land flat on the ground.

This second elbow strike caused the nosebleed he had just stemmed to gount forth anew, accompanied by a temporary half-minute blindness.

By the time he recovered from the dizziness and blindness, he found that Wu Chang had already stepped down from the ring, giving him no opportunity for another round.

He had lost.

Seeing the instructor sitting dazed on the ring, the assistant who consistently refused to remove his mask frowned, unable to tell whether the instructor had been throwing the match.

The masked man was the very first person Zhao Yan had chosen to spar on stage, representing the highest level of combat technique among the group. He possessed immense confidence in his own fighting prowess, believing that even when facing players above level ten, he would not necessarily lose.

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

Wu Chang put on his habitual expression of hesitation. "Is that really a good idea?"

"It's fine, it's just a friendly match, no harm—"

"Man!"

Bang!

A strike combining speed, precision, and ruthlessness slammed heavily into the masked man's face. The masked man's head jerked back, and he fell straight down onto the floor, rigid.

The masked man had triggered dizziness, weakness, and poison. Under the weight of this triple debuff, he lay flat on the ground, unable to move while his limbs twitched slightly and uncontrollably.

Wu Chang turned to look at his other colleagues and said with an innocent expression, "I told you so. My skills aren't suited for sparring."