On the ring, the bell signaling the start of the match had already rung.
"Hey, I'm talking to you," Gatling Gunner sneered at Mumen Rider, scratching his nose with his thumb.
"Did you come to the wrong place? With your small physique, you dare to call yourself 'Ghost Dragon'? If you know what's good for you, get out of here yourself, so I don't beat you so badly your own mother won't recognize you!"
Before he finished speaking, the mockery that had been brewing in the audience seats instantly erupted.
"Where did this clown come from? Get out of here! Don't waste everyone's time here!" a spectator shouted loudly.
"I bet he won't last ten seconds! No, five seconds! Gatling Gunner can turn him into a meat paste with one punch!" The person next to him immediately agreed.
"Look at his physique, 'Ghost Dragon'? I think 'Ghost' is more like it, he'll fall apart with one touch!"
Boos and insults mercilessly assailed Mumen Rider.
These sounds seemed to materialize into sharp arrows, attempting to shatter his fighting spirit.
But he, Mumen Rider, was already accustomed to such scenes.
Facing the overwhelming mockery and pressure, Mumen Rider slowly closed his eyes, shutting out all external disturbances.
He took a deep breath, recalling the times he had practiced alone, imitating the diagrams in the secret art book.
Sweat drenched his clothes, his muscles were incredibly sore, countless falls and rises, countless moments of self-doubt and renewed determination.
Mr. KING's words seemed to echo in his ears again:
"True strength doesn't come from how much power you possess, but from how much you desire to protect with that power."
Protection... Yes, protecting justice, protecting the weak, protecting... those who pursue justice!
His clenched fists slightly loosened, the tension in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by an unprecedented firmness and serenity.
He spread his feet slightly, lowered his center of gravity, and adopted an incredibly solid horse stance.
This posture was precisely the basic starting move— "Immovable as a Mountain"—from the KING Style Mysteries · Martial Arts, which he had practiced thousands of times.
"Oh?"
Lin Mo's eyes narrowed; he could feel that Mumen Rider's entire aura had changed.
He was no longer just an ordinary person with mere courage and a sense of justice, but like a bedrock, rooted firmly in the earth.
"Putting on a show!"
Gatling Gunner roared, his massive body charging forward like a tank, his fist, as big as a cooking pot, bringing a fierce wind as it aimed straight for Mumen Rider's face.
Facing this fierce blow, Mumen Rider did not dodge.
His body subtly shifted with a peculiar rhythm, his footwork changing, just enough to perfectly evade the opponent's punch.
At the same time, his palm glided along the opponent's arm, gently guiding and connecting.
This was precisely the force-deflecting technique from the essence of Tai Chi!
Gatling Gunner only felt that his seemingly certain punch had landed on cotton; the immense force was instantly deflected by a clever technique, causing his body to stumble and revealing a huge opening.
Now is the time!
A glint flashed in Mumen Rider's eyes; he stepped forward, delivering a seemingly ordinary straight punch that precisely landed on Gatling Gunner's ribs.
"Bang!"
A muffled thud.
The power of this punch was not earth-shattering, but its timing, angle, and penetrative force were exquisitely precise!
Gatling Gunner let out a pained groan, his massive body actually forced back by this punch, clutching his ribs, his face filled with disbelief.
The entire venue erupted in an uproar!
"Beautiful!" Lin Mo couldn't help but cheer in his heart.
He saw clearly that Mumen Rider's strength and speed had improved, but the increase was not very significant.
However, his understanding and application of "Martial Arts" had already reached a considerable level.
It seemed he had indeed studied diligently, incorporating the most basic footwork, force-deflecting, and power-generating techniques from the secret art book into his very bones through daily arduous practice.
This was the true spirit of Martial Arts! Not relying on brute force, but fighting with wisdom and technique!
"Huh, this guy named Ghost Dragon... he actually has something, that move just now was too clever, wasn't it?"
A certain spectator who had been mocking earlier now rubbed his eyes in surprise.
"You know what, you really know what," another middle-aged spectator, whose demeanor was more composed and who looked like a martial artist, stroked his chin, his eyes sparkling with interest.
"Overcoming the rigid with the soft, the weak defeating the strong—isn't this precisely the meaning of Martial Arts? I'm starting to think highly of him."
"Combat data model correction." Genos's voice carried surprise, "Target 'Ghost Dragon's' technical movements show a similarity of 82.4% to the KING Style Secret Art you provided, Mr. KING."
He turned to Lin Mo and asked, "Mr. KING, did you personally guide him?"
Lin Mo did not answer; his gaze remained fixed on the figure who had regained his footing in the ring.
The corners of his mouth unconsciously curved into a relieved smile, and he merely gestured for Genos to continue watching.
In the ring, Gatling Gunner, who had been repelled by a single punch, no longer had any trace of contempt on his face, replaced by shock and anger.
The sharp pain in his ribs reminded him that this seemingly frail man was by no means an ordinary opponent.
"You fellow..."
Gatling Gunner growled, like an enraged beast, "Interesting! But don't think you can win against me with a little cleverness!"
Before he finished speaking, he launched another attack.
Wild hooks, tricky uppercuts, swift rising punches—each strike carried the whistling sound of tearing through the air, completely engulfing Mumen Rider.
At the same time, in a corner of the contestant waiting area, two gazes were also fixed on this unexpected match.
One of them was the top seed of this tournament, the four-time champion, Suiryu of Nether Body Fist.
He leaned against the wall, bored, a hint of interest flashing in his usually somewhat frivolous eyes.
"Oh?" Suiryu thought to himself, "Interesting. That guy named Ghost Dragon, his physical fitness is clearly pitiful, but his grasp of timing and his guidance of force are first-class."
"Heh heh, it seems this tournament finally isn't just full of boring muscle-heads."
He chuckled softly, a hint of anticipation added to his lazy demeanor.
"However, speaking of it... this boxing philosophy of using skill to overcome strength, and stillness to control movement, is somewhat similar to the boxing of that senior from the last tournament..." Suiryu fell into contemplation.
Meanwhile, on the other side, a taller man radiating a fierce aura—Bakuzan—let out a disdainful "Tch."
As a two-time champion of the tournament, he was filled with scorn for this technique-based fighting style.
"Hmph, all just petty tricks that aren't worth mentioning." Bakuzan snorted coldly in his heart, "True Martial Arts is the crushing dominance of absolute power!"
He looked at Gatling Gunner's performance in the ring, his eyes filled with contempt:
"That idiot Gatling Gunner actually got fooled by such fancy footwork, what a waste! If it were me, I wouldn't give him any chance to use his techniques!"
"When I meet this 'Ghost Dragon,' one punch, just one punch, will make him understand what true terror is!"