Bruce POV
The night air was sharp, and the backyard of the mansion thrummed with energy.
The fights had already gone through their usual rhythm and all the lower ranks battling are done and so were the cheers
Now the atmosphere has shifted. A different kind of silence hung over the crowd.
Everyone knew this was the real match.
The one that mattered.
The referee's voice cut through the tension.
"Next bout! Current Rank 10, Bruce Chan, challenging Rank 5, Wei Jun!"
The crowd parted as my name was called and I stepped toward the ring with steady steps.
Tao, Zhang Weiren, Lin Qiun, Guo Minghao, and Mei Yanyan stood behind me, their expressions calm, but I could feel their burning confidence.
"You've got this, Bruce," Tao said with that small smirk he always wore when he knew the outcome already.
"Rank 5, Rank 1, doesn't matter," Zhang Weiren added. "You're stronger than all of them."
Mei Yanyan crossed her arms, pretending to pout. "Hmph, just don't end it too fast, or people will think you are a bully."
Guo Minghao grinned. "No pressure, Bruce. Only the whole school is watching you."
I smiled softly.
Their words didn't add weight; they took it off my shoulders. They weren't nervous at all—they believed in me fully.
Stepping into the ring, I finally got a good look at Wei Jun.
He stood tall—taller than me, with the kind of lean, powerful frame that only comes from brutal, disciplined training.
His forearms were roped with corded muscle, his shoulders broad, his movements sharp even in stillness. His eyes were steady, unwavering, like a predator waiting for prey to slip and none of the comments bothered him.
This wasn't someone pampered by family power. This was a martial artist through and through.
We bowed.
The crowd hushed, a ripple of whispers buzzing in the air.
"That's Wei Jun, holding the Rank 5 for a long time."
"Bruce might be strong, but Wei Jun isn't like the others. He's earned every inch of his place."
"Still… Bruce beat everyone up here too easily. Maybe this time we'll see his limit."
The referee raised his hand.
"Begin!"
I slid into my Wing Chun stance, arms relaxed but ready, legs grounded.
At the same time, I let my chi flow—calm, steady, like a river beneath my skin. Only 0.1%.
Enough to reinforce my body internally and not enough to harm.
Wei Jun moved immediately, fluid as water, hands snapping out in the distinctive hook-like strikes of Praying Mantis Style.
His fingers aimed at my wrist tendons, elbow joints, and pressure points. His footwork was sharp, cutting angles, forcing me to react.
So fast… Yet not fast enough
My arms shifted like spring-loaded gates, redirecting his strikes.
Each of his claws met my forearm or palm, deflected harmlessly away. His foot jabbed forward—Tiger style, raw force crashing against my stance but my rooted legs absorbed the blow with ease.
Clack! Clack! Thud!
The sound of his strikes meeting my defense echoed, but my ground didn't give.
Wei Jun narrowed his eyes.
His expression didn't change much, but I could tell that he wasn't used to someone blocking him this cleanly and getting pushed back.
His strikes… they're reinforced.
That's chi for sure, I can feel it.
Not sure how much he is using, but it was there.
A familiar pulse in each blow. Not overwhelming, but refined and precise.
So he had trained with a different method. Not my Lotus Method.
This is indeed something else.
But even then—my foundation was very strong and I knew we weren't in the same league anymore.
I pressed forward.
Snap! Snap! Snap! My arms lashed out, Wing Chun's chain punches driving him back.
He deflected with Mantis hooks, countered with Tiger claws, but each strike he blocked left him a little more pressured.
From the sidelines, I heard Tao's voice cut through the crowd.
"Don't blink, everyone! He's only warming up!"
The crowd murmured, excitement rising.
Wei Jun's eyes flickered.
He ducked low, switching tactics, his hands darting for my ribs while his leg swept at my ankle. I stepped in—not back—closing the gap and jamming his motion. My elbow drove forward, grazing his shoulder, and my knee blocked the sweep.
"Good!" Wei Jun muttered under his breath. His calm voice surprised me. "No wonder you climbed so fast."
He launched upward with a Tiger-style palm toward my chin.
I tilted, deflecting, then snapped my fist forward—straight to his chest. Reinforced by just 0.1% Chi, it thudded against him like a hammer. He skidded back two steps, eyes wide.
The crowd gasped.
"Look at his power!" someone shouted.
"No way! Did you see that?!"
But Wei Jun didn't falter. He exhaled sharply in realization, shifting his stance again. "So it's true. You can use it. Then I'll have to stop holding back."
His strikes sped up. His fingers blurred, each attack sharper, heavier, carrying a faint glow of his own chi. He switched seamlessly—Mantis for pressure, Tiger for force.
His body was a storm of claws and palms.
For a moment, the crowd thought I was being overwhelmed. His flurry was vicious, relentless.
But inside, I was calm.
My Chi flowed evenly through my body, reinforcing each of my actions.
My arms moved like a revolving door, always intercepting, always flowing and my stance didn't break. My rhythm didn't falter.
I felt untouchable.
And my friends knew it.
From the edge of the ring, Lin Qiun shouted, "He's got nothing on you, Bruce! You're unshakable!"
Guo Minghao cupped his hands and yelled, "Rank 5 today, Rank 1 tomorrow!"
Mei Yanyan smirked proudly. "See? We told you! That's Bruce!"
The crowd was starting to shift too. Confidence spread like wildfire.
Wei Jun gritted his teeth, sweat forming at his brow. He attacked again, faster, harder and it was clear he was using all of his Chi—but it didn't matter.
Because I increased my Chi flow from 0.1% to 0.2% and that was enough to match him
Finally, I decided it was time.
My stance shifted from defense… to attack.
My fists fired, chain punches whipping forward with explosive rhythm.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap! Each one precise, sharp, impossible to stop. I let my chi reinforcement rise to 0.3%. Enough to the point where Wei Jun was not able to keep up.
Wei Jun blocked the first few, but my speed grew.
A punch slipped past, catching his chin.
Another slammed into his ribs. My leg snapped out, breaking his balance.
His guard wavered.
Now.
I surged forward, fists raining like thunder, driving him back step by step until finally—CRACK!—a sharp strike to his chin lifted him off his feet.
He stumbled, crashed to the ground, and didn't rise.
The crowd erupted.
"Bruce! Bruce!"
"He did it!"
"Unstoppable!"
My friends leapt up, cheering wildly.
Tao grinned ear to ear, shouting over the noise, "I told you all! Didn't I say?! Bruce is unbeatable!"
The referee rushed in, raised my hand, and his voice boomed.
"Winner—Bruce Chan! New Rank 5!"
The cheer that followed shook the entire mansion.
I exhaled slowly, lowering my fists. My chi settled, flowing back into calm rivers.
Across the ring, Wei Jun sat up, rubbing his jaw, but instead of bitterness, there was a faint smile. "You're strong," he said quietly. "Stronger than I expected. Don't waste it. Keep climbing and reach greater heights."
I bowed my head to him in respect.
He had fought well, and I knew he had earned his place honestly. But today, that place became mine.
As I stepped down from the ring, my friends swarmed me. Tao slapped my back.
"Rank 5, Bruce. Told you, no one can stop you."
"Yeah," I replied, grinning as the crowd still cheered my name.
The End