Chapter Seventy-Two

There is indeed a way to break the technique, and as Wang Chaolin threw his second kick, Zhou Ruoxue swiftly dodged it with agile reflexes. In the same motion, she seized Wang Chaolin’s extended right leg to launch a counterattack. This was precisely the flaw in Wang Chaolin’s technique: his kicking leg would become momentarily rigid, and Zhou Ruoxue exploited this window to strike back.

Zhou Ruoxue’s kick was about to land on Wang Chaolin’s abdomen, yet she refrained, pulling her leg back and saying, “The match’s outcome is already decided. I don’t wish to harm you, Senior Wang.” She glanced at Xu Yaya, signaling her to announce the result.

Xu Yaya declared, “Wang Chaolin versus Zhou Ruoxue. Zhou Ruoxue wins.”

Wang Chaolin walked over, patted Zhou Ruoxue’s back, and chuckled, “You still remember my weakness so well—no wonder no one can beat you, Zhou Ruoxue. This is the kind of fighting spirit I wanted to see.”

Zhou Ruoxue replied modestly, “Senior Wang, you flatter me. I can barely remember any of my kicks; it was all luck that got me the victory. If anything, I should have lost the match.”

Xu Yaya wiped away a tear and said, “You did well, Ruoxue. You didn’t lose yourself to reckless emotions. In the past, if anyone provoked you, no one could best you. But you’re not the same as before—your emotional control has improved greatly.”

“Thank you for your praise, Captain,” Zhou Ruoxue said with a smile.

Turning to Wang Chaolin, Xu Yaya asked, “Who did you draw as your opponent? Please show everyone.” Wang Chaolin revealed his slip, and in bold letters, it read: “Zhou Ruoxue.”

“There’s no need for a rematch since you’ve already faced each other. Now, whoever wrote Zhou Ruoxue’s name and wishes to challenge her, please raise your hand,” Xu Yaya said, eyeing the three others to see who would step forward. Soon, Yu Xingyue stood up.

“Apple, why do you want to challenge Zhou Ruoxue?” Xu Yaya inquired.

Yu Xingyue replied, “In my view, Senior Ruoxue’s skills are now on par with mine at my peak. That’s why I wrote her name, hoping to test myself against her. But since Senior Wang drew her first, I guess our match isn’t meant to be. I wanted to see if her skills had declined, but from the previous match, it’s clear she wasn’t even going all out.”

“You noticed, Hugo,” Zhou Ruoxue said with a smile.

“You’re as modest and low-key as ever. You said you’d forgotten most of your kicks and that luck won you the match, just to spare Senior Wang’s feelings,” Yu Xingyue teased.

Wang Chaolin scratched his head, embarrassed. “Little sister, thanks for looking out for me. I must have been too lazy lately; you didn’t want to hurt my pride, is that it?”

Zhou Ruoxue nodded in confirmation, but Xu Yaya cut in, “Let’s save the talk for later. Next, Hugo, please reveal the name of the opponent you drew.”

Yu Xingyue unfolded her slip and, upon seeing the name, grew visibly uneasy; this was not the opponent she had hoped for. She reluctantly displayed it: “Lin Ling.”

Yu Xingyue forced a bitter smile. “Ah, why am I so unlucky? I don’t want to face Senior Lin Ling. You all know how monstrous her strength is.”

Lin Ling laughed and scolded, “What, you don’t want to see me? You’d better watch what you say, or you’ll pay for it.” Her fierce look made Yu Xingyue shiver.

“Senior, are you trying to silence me? I’ll never understand why Brother Wu likes you. Is he doing well these days?” Yu Xingyue’s mention of Wu Guanzhong immediately had the desired effect: Lin Ling’s intimidating aura vanished, replaced by a shy demeanor. The others, catching the scent of gossip, swarmed around Lin Ling like reporters on a scoop—even Xu Yaya couldn’t resist joining in.

Zhou Ruoxue couldn’t help but ask, “Senior, is what Hugo said true? Who exactly is this Brother Wu that makes you blush? I remember you once swore you’d never fall for any man.”

Lin Ling pouted, “That’s none of your business. The past is the past. I’ll eat my words, okay? Besides, is it so easy for me to find a boyfriend?” She immediately regretted saying this, for as soon as the words were out, everyone except Yu Xingyue began congratulating her on her “upcoming wedding.”

Lin Ling cast a murderous glare at Yu Xingyue, as if to say, “You’re dead meat later—just wait!” But faced with a barrage of questions from her four companions, she barely had time to catch her breath.

Patiently, Lin Ling answered their questions, taking over ten minutes to explain everything. Order restored, Xu Yaya said, “So, Lin Ling, does your slip have Hugo’s name on it? Let’s see.”

There was no need for suspense; Lin Ling’s slip indeed bore the name “Yu Xingyue.” Yu Xingyue had assumed Xiao Jian wanted to challenge her, but she was mistaken. Before the match, Xu Yaya had asked who wished to challenge Yu Xingyue, and it was Wang Chaolin who stepped forward, simply because he hadn’t experienced Yu Xingyue’s “scrubbing kick technique” in a long time.

Yu Xingyue shot Wang Chaolin a glare. There was a reason Wang Chaolin called Yu Xingyue’s kicks “scrubbing techniques.” When Yu Xingyue first started practicing Fast Fighting for Free Agents, she had trained with Wang Chaolin, who mostly served as a practice dummy, doing little more than standing there and getting kicked.

The reason for the nickname lay in the initial weakness of her kicks, which were about as forceful as a toddler’s punches—even at her strongest, Wang Chaolin barely felt them and, instead of pain, found them oddly pleasant, almost like a massage. This infuriated Yu Xingyue, who then pounded him in earnest. It was Xiao Jian who joked that her kicks were better suited for scrubbing backs, and so the name stuck.

What was once mocked as a mere scrubbing technique had now become a key element in Xiao Jian’s victory strategy. At first, he wasn’t impressed, but curiosity got the better of him, and he became the greatest beneficiary of the Fast Fighting style.

After Xiao Jian, Huang Feifan and Zhang Yi also began to learn the kicking techniques, progressing to about halfway mastery. In a few months, they would be able to perform all the moves of Fast Fighting with seamless fluidity.

Back to the present—Yu Xingyue and Lin Ling changed into their uniforms and prepared to fight. Before the match, Yu Xingyue pleaded, “Senior, please go easy on me. I don’t want my mother to see me in a sorry state.”

Lin Ling sneered, “You just had to bring up that topic and get me riled up. Rest assured, I won’t be holding back. Are you ready for a beating?”

Hearing Lin Ling’s domineering reply, everyone except Xu Yaya let out an admiring “Wow!” No wonder she was their senior; on the stage, she was a completely different person from her private self. Yu Xingyue was certainly in for a tough time.

“Alright then…” Yu Xingyue sighed. “You asked for this, Senior Lin Ling. I’m warning you in advance: if you get hurt, I take no responsibility.”

“You? Hurt me? That will never happen. But if you do manage to injure me, I’ll grant you one wish. How’s that?”

“Do you mean it?” Yu Xingyue asked.

“Of course. I always keep my word. If I forget, you’re free to remind me.”

“No more talk—let’s fight.” Yu Xingyue assumed a fighting stance, and Lin Ling did the same. Yu Xingyue had already decided on her “wish”—though to call it a wish was more apt to call it a punishment for Lin Ling, and she couldn’t help grinning.

With Xu Yaya’s shout of “Begin!” the two entered their stances. The spectators watched the duel in awe, unable to find words—this was like watching two immortals battle.

Lin Ling, as expected, executed her kicks flawlessly, her technique as sharp as ever, though her strikes lacked the raw power of the past. In contrast, Yu Xingyue was clearly running low on stamina. Xiao Jian could tell: practicing Fast Fighting for Free Agents left Yu Xingyue utterly exhausted, making it difficult for her to perform the more demanding kicks.