https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-77-Backing-the-Dragon-Overturning-Mountains/13686502/
Chapter 78: The Two Strongest Decide (Repaying Monthly Ticket Debt 1)
Feeling the tremor beneath her seat, Le Mulan didn’t scold the other side. Just moments ago, she herself had been startled by Zhang Yu’s sudden breakthrough.
"To break through martial arts during combat—that’s truly impressive. No wonder Lian Tianji lost in real battle."
"But even so, the gap between him and Song Hailong remains too vast."
The Level 5 Wuji Yunshou alone wasn’t enough to close that chasm. And indeed, the scene on the arena matched Le Mulan’s expectations.
The breakthrough gave Song Hailong only a momentary surprise. Once he unleashed his Beilong Fanyue Hand, his overwhelming strength and physique quickly took control, slamming Zhang Yu hard onto the ground.
"It’s over."
Le Mulan knew: for someone unskilled in grappling and wrestling, being thrown and pinned was utter doom—no chance at all.
But then, another shock unfolded.
Zhang Yu suddenly began countering Song Hailong with the same Beilong Fanyue Hand?
...
On the arena floor, Zhang Yu watched Song Hailong fluidly execute the Beilong Fanyue Hand, then glanced at the Feather Scroll where the technique’s form now appeared. He realized—he had only one shot left: learn this martial art, now.
...
In the stands, Le Mulan mentally scoffed. Madness.
Does he really think he can learn grappling on the fly, fighting Song Hailong on the ground?
She thought Zhang Yu had gone mad. Yet, in the next few heartbeats, she couldn’t help but notice: though clumsy and distorted, the grappling moves Zhang Yu used somehow always managed to stall his inevitable defeat—slowing his collapse just enough.
Especially when combined with Wuji Yunshou, allowing him to redirect force, twist momentum, and fight back with growing desperation.
"He’s a true martial genius," she murmured. "He picked up grappling instantly—spontaneously connecting it with his own martial foundation, instinctively finding the key points in energy flow."
"But it’s still just delaying the inevitable."
Le Mulan felt like she was watching a man dancing on a blade’s edge. The ground battle looked messy, even ugly—but it was deadly. One wrong move, one locked joint, one broken vital point, and Song Hailong could turn Zhang Yu into a lifeless, broken heap in an instant.
One moment Zhang Yu was fierce and alive—next, crushed under Song Hailong’s crushing grip.
But then—Le Mulan jolted upright.
On the arena, Zhang Yu’s technique shifted—from clumsy to smooth, from chaotic to precise. He wasn’t just mimicking the Beilong Fanyue Hand. He was matching Song Hailong, facing him blow for blow.
"He learned it?"
"No… he’s already mastered it?"
Le Mulan wasn’t the only one stunned. Even Lian Tianji rose from his seat, eyes wide. "Learning an opponent’s martial art in battle? This kind of talent…"
His expression flickered between awe and dread. Such a terrifying gift—no one had dared use it openly in decades, even if they’d possessed it. To do so in broad daylight, to break a technique, to use a copy—was tantamount to suicide.
Lian Tianji whispered, "Does he even know what he’s risking? He’s committing martial theft under the sun!"
At that moment, Bai Zhenzhen snatched Zhang Yu’s phone.
Lei Jun’s face was equally torn—excited, terrified. "Do you know the password?"
Bai Zhenzhen nodded, fingers flying. "I’ve borrowed money for him before. I know the code."
Lei Jun warned, "Search for ‘Beilong Fanyue Hand’—just type ‘Back Dragon’…"
Bai Zhenzhen dashed through the shopping site, found the technique—then froze. Her face darkened. "40,000 yuan. His balance isn’t enough."
Just then, a soft chime rang like celestial music in her ears.
Transfer received: 40,000 yuan from Zhang Pianpian.
Along with the digital manual and usage rights, the payment was confirmed and delivered to Zhang Yu’s account.
Relief washed over her. She turned back to the arena—now watching two dragons, one large, one small, locked in a fierce, twisting battle on the ground.
Though Song Hailong dominated, he couldn’t fully subdue Zhang Yu.
With every clash, Song Hailong sensed a change—Zhang Yu’s technique had advanced. He began cutting off Song Hailong’s attacks, even starting to lock his body in return.
"What?!"
"His Beilong Fanyue Hand… has surpassed mine?!"
In a straight-up clash—fist against fist, palm against palm—Zhang Yu using the same technique wouldn’t have been enough to beat Song Hailong.
But in ground combat, using the same style, even Song Hailong’s immense physique was vulnerable. Once fully trapped, he’d be in real danger.
And now, as Zhang Yu’s mastery of the Beilong Fanyue Hand surpassed his, Zhang Yu’s arms were blazing with the power of Level 5 Wuxiang Yun’gang.
Every grip, every throw from Song Hailong was disrupted—pulled apart by Zhang Yu’s precise redirection. And every time Zhang Yu countered, it took Song Hailong more strength to break free.
"Fine. I’ll outlast him. My body can endure longer. His strength will fade."
They rolled, locked in a brutal, grinding struggle. Song Hailong, at a technical disadvantage, had to focus every ounce of willpower on countering Zhang Yu.
Then—suddenly—he felt Zhang Yu’s strength waning.
A flicker of hope sparked in Song Hailong’s chest. Now! The chance!
But the next instant—his body sank.
In his total focus on the ground fight, he hadn’t noticed—he’d been dragged to the edge of the arena.
And then—Zhang Yu flung him over the boundary.
Boom!
Song Hailong’s feet slammed onto the ground outside the arena. His mind was blank.
"I… lost?"
Staring at the empty space beyond the boundary, a wave of fury surged through him. His muscles swelled, veins bulging—ready to charge back onto the arena.
But three figures appeared instantly before him.
Three referees simultaneously gripped his shoulders, grounding him. Slowly, Song Hailong calmed.
He took a deep breath, eyes fixed on Zhang Yu in the arena.
"You won."
Then, with a sharp shake of his body, he said, "Let go. I’ll walk myself."
The referees released him. Cold-faced, Song Hailong strode back to Bailong High School’s rest area.
On the arena, another referee stepped forward.
"Do you have legal usage rights to Song Hailong’s Beilong Fanyue Hand?"
Zhang Yu’s sudden, raw learning of the technique had raised suspicion—was he breaking the martial art? Using a copy?
Just then, Bai Zhenzhen charged forward, holding Zhang Yu’s phone.
"Buy! Buy! He bought the usage rights! Here’s the order!"
She showed the referee the purchase confirmation on the screen, then pulled out Zhang Yu’s Lushu—the one left on the sidelines—and revealed the Songyang City Inspection Department stamp.
Seeing both the receipt and the official mark, the referee paused, then simply warned Zhang Yu sternly before leaving.
Bai Zhenzhen exhaled in relief.
Then she glared at Zhang Yu. "What the hell were you thinking? Breaking a martial art on stage? Learning on the fly? If the company comes after you, you’ll be bankrupt!"
Zhang Yu rubbed his head, sighing. "I just… got carried away. When the fight was raging, my mind was only on winning. Nothing else mattered."
He gave her a weak smile. "Besides… I knew you’d help me."
Bai Zhenzhen rolled her eyes. "That technique cost forty thousand yuan! If you don’t win the next match, you’ll be paying it back with years of labor."
She paused, then asked, "Did you get hurt?"
Zhang Yu shook his head.
The close combat had been terrifying—but aside from bruises, he was unharmed.
But the mental toll…
Now, Zhang Yu kept rubbing his temples. The intense focus, the near-bankruptcy stakes, the all-out training during battle—none of it had felt real while it happened. But now, the moment it ended, his mind felt like a mushy mess.
"Ah Zhen… help me back. My head’s spinning."
Bai Zhenzhen snorted, then lifted him up in one swift motion—carrying him like a sack of grain toward Songyang High School’s rest area.
As she walked, she muttered, "Our investment in this Martial Arts Competition was huge. Next match—you have to beat that damn Le Mulan."
Zhang Yu, eyes half-closed, murmured in agreement.
Bai Zhenzhen leaned in, whispering, "Let me tell you—here’s Le Mulan’s weakness…"
...
On the other side, as Song Hailong returned, the Bailong High School rest area plunged into silence—like a room under low pressure.
The coach coughed. "Zhang Yu… is genuinely impressive. His stats aren’t high, but his martial talent is off the charts. He’s proven he can break through mid-battle. He truly has the potential to beat stronger opponents."
"Ah… honestly, Hailong’s real strength is still greater than Zhang Yu’s. If not for the arena rules, it would’ve been over for Zhang Yu long ago."
After a loss, there are two ways to justify it. One: “I was careless.” The other: “He’s just too strong.”
Clearly, the coach was using both.
If it were any other student who’d lost, the coach would’ve already forced them to kneel.
But when the richest, top-performing student fell? He couldn’t afford to act that way.
Others nodded in agreement.
"That Zhang Yu really is something."
"Hailong just didn’t watch his step. The arena’s slippery today—no way he’d lose otherwise."
"Who could’ve predicted he’d break through in battle? And learn Beilong Fanyue Hand like that?"
"Wait—does he even have usage rights? Can we cancel his participation?"
"The referees checked. If it’s legal, it’s legal."
The Bailong students felt torn.
They didn’t believe Zhang Yu was truly stronger than Song Hailong—his numbers still lagged. So they weren’t fully convinced.
But Zhang Yu had done something they couldn’t—mastering a technique in real time, using genius-level skill. That sparked a quiet, reluctant admiration.
And nearby, on a stretcher, Chu Qiuhé—still feigning unconsciousness—smiled inwardly.
Keep praising him. Keep praising him.
The stronger Zhang Yu seemed, the more natural Chu Qiuhé’s own loss became.
—
Thank you all for your incredible support. This novel’s initial subscription has surpassed 30,000. For a single day, my monthly ticket ranking even briefly placed me among the Bailong people—humbled and honored. Today, I repay one chapter of my monthly ticket debt. I’ll continue repaying steadily, as long as I can maintain quality. Now, I’m begging for more monthly tickets—please, keep them coming!
(End of Chapter)
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