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Chapter 77: Backing the Dragon, Overturning Mountains
Le Mulan returned to Ziyun High School’s rest area and immediately spotted Lian Tianji kneeling on the floor. Without hesitation, she walked up to him and simply sat down on his back, treating him like a makeshift stool.
This was her punishment for his failure. For the next three days, every time he appeared before her, he would have to serve as her personal seat.
Lian Tianji asked, “Already over so soon?”
He had watched Bai Zhenzhen’s battle with Xiong Wenwu. Though Bai Zhenzhen lacked strong stats, her real-world combat instincts were exceptional—she constantly found her opponent’s weak points. Lian Tianji had even hoped she might force the supposedly invincible top student to reveal a few more moves.
Le Mulan frowned, lifting her right foot and giving Lian Tianji a light kick. “Stools don’t talk.”
Lian Tianji instantly shut his mouth.
But she added, “She’s broke. No money left for treatment. Though even if she had, it’d just be wasting time.”
Lian Tianji understood instantly. In this world, money was power—its absence was a clear sign of weakness.
Bai Zhenzhen was poor. And…
It’s only natural, Lian Tianji thought, the poor lose to the rich.
Just then, Zhang Yu and Song Hailong stepped onto the arena stage.
Lian Tianji slowly turned his head, fixing his gaze on the battlefield.
After defeat, people usually chose one of two responses:
Either they claimed they’d been careless.
Or they praised their opponent as too strong.
The first sounded pathetic. The second, at least, preserved dignity.
So Lian Tianji found himself leaning toward the second.
If Zhang Yu beats Song Hailong… my sponsorship deals might actually get reinstated, he mused.
Then it won’t be “defeated by a Songyang student” anymore—it’ll be “narrowly lost to a final-stage contender.”
Come on, Zhang Yu! You can do it!
In the Bailong High School rest area, Chu Qiuhé echoed the sentiment, even daring to secretly curse Song Hailong under his breath.
Though as a Bailong native, he knew just how terrifying Song Hailong truly was, a flicker of hope still stirred in his heart:
Maybe… just maybe… He’ll slip up. Maybe he’ll lose by accident. If only Song Hailong falls, then we all get our pride back.
As Song Hailong spread his arms wide and raised both hands high, a thunderous wave of cheers erupted from the audience stands.
“Song Hailong! First place!”
“Song Hailong! First place!”
Zhao Tianxing listened to the unified chants of the Bailong crowd and felt a sudden chill. To him, Zhang Yu on stage seemed utterly isolated.
He thought, Shouldn’t we cheer for Zhang Yu too?
But when he voiced the thought, He Dayou quickly turned his head away, pretending not to hear.
Qian Shen also shook his head. “Better not. This is their turf.”
Gazing at the overwhelming energy of the Bailong supporters, Zhao Tianxing’s own urge to cheer slowly faded.
And thinking about how nerve-wracking it was just to watch from afar, he couldn’t even imagine the pressure Zhang Yu must be feeling, standing there in the spotlight.
…
On the arena floor.
As Song Hailong clenched his right fist, the roar of the crowd vanished in an instant. Silence fell across the entire venue.
Song Hailong stared at Zhang Yu and laughed. “Never expected a little boy from Songyang to make it this far—beating so many opponents to reach the semifinals.”
“As a reward, I’ll make this match a bit easier for you.”
He lifted a hand, tousled his spiky hair, and instantly, a number appeared on his forehead.
10 million?
Zhang Yu blinked in confusion.
Song Hailong answered his unspoken question: “This is a built-in feature of my External Spiritual Root—it shows my Medical Insurance Coverage Limit.”
“My current medical cap is 10 million. If you can drain the entire 10 million treatment budget, I’ll admit defeat.”
You’re literally showing your health bar? Zhang Yu stared at the number, mentally calculating its implications.
But then he thought: He can afford 10 million in treatment… while I only have enough for 100,000. Now, only 70,000 left…
A wave of helplessness washed over him.
Yet in an instant, he activated the Heart Scripture’s Tianwu Cultivation method, suppressing all doubt and despair. His focus sharpened. His spirit ignited. He was fully immersed in the battle ahead.
In the audience stands, Song Hailong’s sheer physical presence—his voice resonating through the arena—had already left the crowd in awe.
“Only a Bailong elite could have a medical insurance limit of 10 million!”
“He’s filthy rich—no wonder his grades are perfect!”
“Come on, poor people can’t possibly be this talented.”
“Song Hailong’s monthly exam score is the highest, and he’s this wealthy. I say the martial arts champion should just be given to him!”
On stage, Song Hailong waved one hand. “You go first. If I strike, you might not even get a chance.”
With his stance completely open, Zhang Yu cautiously advanced. He unleashed a palm strike, channeling Wuxiang Yun’gang, and slammed it straight into Song Hailong’s chest.
Crack!
The force should’ve shattered stone. But instead, it felt like hitting a thick rubber tire.
Song Hailong didn’t budge. Not even a step back. And the number on his forehead dropped only by 300.
Zhang Yu remembered Lei Jun’s explanation about the Elephant Sinew Body:
This guy has the Elephant Demon Sinew Muscle implanted. Martial Energy flows directly into his body, boosting his Physical Strength Level—making his strength and durability impossible to judge by normal standards.
Add in the fact that his base Physical Strength is already far above mine, plus the protective effect of his External Spiritual Root, the Yunti Spiritual Root…
No wonder Song Hailong took the blow with no damage.
Song Hailong shook his head. “That hit only cost me 300. Weak. Really weak.”
“Come on, little brother. If you keep this up, I’ll just stand here and let you hit me until you’ve spent the whole 10 million. How long do you think that’ll take?”
Zhang Yu fired another flurry of blows—strikes to the ribs, the neck, the solar plexus. But each impact felt like hitting a rubber ball. Song Hailong’s body trembled slightly, but the number on his forehead only dropped by another 2,000 or so.
Then—something shocking happened.
The number on Song Hailong’s forehead began to rise again.
The 2,300 deducted earlier slowly crept back up to around 2,000.
Noticing Zhang Yu’s widening eyes, Song Hailong laughed. “See? It’s coming back.”
“Sorry, but this isn’t just any Yunti Spiritual Root. It’s a Premium Yunti Spiritual Root.”
“It doesn’t just boost my Physical Strength and durability. It also absorbs ambient Spirit Energy from the air, healing my wounds continuously.”
Watching Zhang Yu’s expression grow heavier, Song Hailong grinned. “Still not moving? If you don’t act fast, it’ll be back to 10 million before you know it.”
His words echoed through the arena.
To everyone—audience, competitors, judges—the image of a million yuan in medical coverage hung like a mountain of money between the two fighters.
To them, that million seemed like an unbreakable wall, blocking Zhang Yu’s every path to victory.
“You won’t come to me?” Song Hailong roared.
With his towering frame—two and a half meters tall—he spread his massive hand like a dragon’s claw, lunging toward Zhang Yu.
Martial Energy surged through his Elephant Demon Sinew Muscle, amplifying his raw strength. He didn’t need fancy techniques. Just that brute force was enough to crush any first-year.
Zhang Yu felt the overwhelming pressure of the claw—but he didn’t panic.
The data gap is too wide. Fighting him head-on with my own strength is impossible.
My only chance… is to use his power against him. Defense and counterattack—this is my style.
As he thought this, Zhang Yu raised both arms, channeling Wuxiang Yun’gang to block.
But then—Song Hailong’s grip shifted.
A sudden change in motion. A shift in timing.
A grappling technique? Zhang Yu realized.
Not just that…
With full concentration, he watched the movement of Song Hailong’s hands—each shift, each adjustment.
He dodged, parried, and blocked with Wuxiang Yun’gang, but it wasn’t enough.
He quickly recognized the style: Beilong Fanyue Hand—Level 1, a master-level grappling martial art.
A technique built entirely on raw physical power—pure, brutal, unrelenting.
And for someone like Song Hailong—whose Martial Energy was entirely channeled into his body, whose Sinew Muscle amplified every ounce of strength—this was the perfect match.
Though Song Hailong hadn’t invested much in martial arts training, this technique was only Level 1. But with his overwhelming physique, even a basic level was enough to dominate anyone at his level.
Zhang Yu felt the crushing pressure. In his focused state, he sensed Song Hailong’s hands like a vast net, slowly tightening, aiming to trap him, slam him down, and pin him.
You want to wrestle? Play ground game?
Zhang Yu, with no grappling skills at all, refused to go down to the ground and fight on equal terms.
Instead, he darted like a small fish through the web of limbs—slipping through, barely avoiding capture.
But then…
Got you.
Song Hailong suddenly clamped down on Zhang Yu’s arm, a smirk forming on his lips.
At the same moment both men exerted force—Zhang Yu let out a furious roar.
The Wuxiang Yun’gang covering his palms suddenly exploded outward, surging up his arms, reaching his elbows. Then, like an eel slipping through a net, it slid right out of Song Hailong’s grip.
In the arena stands, Lian Tianji jolted in shock.
In a moment of desperation… his Wuji Yunshou has broken through again? Level 5? That Zhang Yu really is a martial genius.
(End of Chapter)
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