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Chapter 42 - Chapter 42: Arena Of Six Rounds: Round 4(Second Bout)

The gong struck.

The crowd leaned forward like a single body, the noise of a thousand voices folding into silence.

Jin's playful smirk was still there but this time, his eyes never left Shenlu Feng. His opponent's gaze was as cold and flat as the steel edge of a cleaver. No disdain. No acknowledgment. As though Jin didn't even exist.

It made the fool in Jin itch to perform.

"Hey…" Jin tilted his head, waving both hands dramatically at Shenlu. "You look at Jin, ya? Hello? Jin here. You no blink? You statue?"

The crowd burst into laughter. Some cheered, others jeered but Shenlu Feng did not move, his stance coiled like a drawn bow.

Then he moved.

The Opening Storm

In less than a heartbeat Shenlu Feng surged forward. His footwork was crisp, deliberate every step a technique drilled ten thousand times.

WHAM!

A palm strike drove into Jin's stomach.

THUD!

A knee followed, another legal blow sinking into his abdomen.

Jin staggered back, grinning through clenched teeth. "Ooooh! Jin belly no drum, stop hitting, ya?!"

But Shenlu didn't slow. His ten strikes limit reset at the round's beginning he was free to hammer.

SMASH! An elbow dug in.

CRACK! Another knee snapped forward.

The sound was like bamboo splitting, the crowd roaring with each perfectly landed blow.

Jin's body bent like a reed, his arms scrambling to block but his blocks were sloppy, too slow to meet Shenlu's lightning pace.

Grappling Flow

Then Shenlu shifted. His hand shot past Jin's guard, locking his wrist. His hips twisted, his shoulder dropped, and in a blink

SLAM!

Jin's body arced over Shenlu's shoulder and crashed against the arena floor.

The crowd exploded.

Jin wheezed like a dying ox, sprawled awkwardly. He raised his hand weakly to the crowd. "Haha… encore?"

But before he could rise, Shenlu was on him. His knee pressed against Jin's ribs, arm threading under his neck in a chokehold.

The pressure was immediate, precise, merciless. Shenlu's grappling was no brawl it was artistry. His control was absolute, his movements efficient, every adjustment designed to collapse Jin's space.

The crowd roared.

"He's finished!"

"Submit, clown!"

Jin's Struggle

Jin's face turned red, his breath sputtering under the choke. He flailed wild kicks, hand slaps, even trying to pinch Shenlu's arm like a mischievous child.

"Lemme… breathe, ya?!" he coughed.

He clawed at the hold, his body twisting unnaturally but instead of panicking, he was watching. Every torque of Shenlu's hips, every shift of weight, every placement of foot. His eyes flickered like a student cramming in a lesson mid-test.

Then Jin tried to copy.

He rolled, hooking his arm clumsily around Shenlu's neck, attempting the same choke. But it was sloppy, his grip loose, his legs in the wrong position.

Shenlu dismantled it instantly, flipping Jin onto his back again.

THUD!

The crowd laughed and cheered all at once. Jin lay flat, groaning. He raised his hand weakly. "Ta-da…"

The Dance of Submission

But Shenlu didn't relent. He shifted seamlessly into another lock this time catching Jin's arm, extending it, straining the joint.

Jin yelped, thrashing.

"No break arm! Jin need arm to eat rice, ya!"

The crowd howled.

Jin's legs scrambled, flopping like a fish until, almost accidentally, he rolled himself out of the lock. He popped up to his feet, chest heaving.

But his grin returned.

"Hehe… now Jin know. You teach free, ya? Good teacher."

Shenlu's eyes remained flat.

Escalation

Shenlu advanced again, his speed a blur. His strikes landed like falling stones, each abdominal blow hammering Jin closer to collapse. Every time Jin tried to counter, Shenlu twisted, redirected, and punished him with a throw or a lock.

The second round was his clinic, his showcase of mastery. Jin was tossed, choked, bent, pinned. He wriggled out only to be caught again.

But through it all Jin never stopped laughing.

"Woo! Spin again!"

"Jin no trampoline!"

"Ah, too tight! Jin no noodle, ya?"

The crowd was split. Some were infuriated by his antics, others were in tears with laughter. But among the sharp-eyed generals, whispers passed again.

"He's learning."

"Look at his body he's adjusting with every exchange."

"The fool is… studying."

The Close Call

Near the round's end, Shenlu locked Jin in a guillotine choke. His forearm pressed down, cutting air. Jin's eyes bulged, his grin fading as black edges crept at his vision.

Ruan, chained, struggled against her bonds.

Don't you dare… don't you dare lose here.

Jin's hands slapped against Shenlu's back, and then he copied again. He twisted his hips, trying the same motion Shenlu used earlier. It was crude, awkward...

But it loosened the choke just enough for him to gasp air.

The gong sounded.

Round Two ended.

End of Round

Shenlu released him and stepped back, expression unchanged. Not a drop of sweat stained his brow.

Jin lay on his back, arms spread like a fallen starfish, chest heaving. He waved his hand weakly at the crowd.

"Round two… Jin still pretty."

The audience roared half with cheers, half with laughter.

But those who studied closely saw it.

Behind the fool's grin, Jin's eyes gleamed with something else.

He was adapting.

And in Round Three… the clown might bite back.

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