Chapter 104: The Arrogant Black Mountain and Ben

On the arena stage, Liu Jun and Kuroyama Hibiki locked eyes, sparks flying between them.

In Kuroyama’s gaze lingered a mocking, disdainful expression, as if he regarded Liu Jun as beneath notice.

“I’ve heard your Yanhuang martial arts boast many styles, but I wonder how they compare to our Fusang Karate?” Kuroyama smirked arrogantly.

“Then let’s see what you’ve got,” Liu Jun said, tired of the taunts, and launched the first attack.

He employed a fist technique, releasing a fierce gust of wind with each strike, the power brutal and relentless.

A punch thundered toward Kuroyama’s chest.

Kuroyama’s lips curled into a derisive sneer as he sidestepped and countered with a powerful palm strike.

“Thud.”

The sound of their collision was heavy and resounding, the force driving them both several steps back.

Liu Jun’s expression remained calm despite the blocked attack; he swiftly launched another, his punches fluid and agile.

Kuroyama responded with his Karate, the two exchanging blows with bone-crushing impact and the clash of bodies echoing across the arena.

The crowd erupted in cheers—Yanhuang supporters roaring for Liu Jun, while Fusang warriors vociferously backed Kuroyama.

Yang Fan watched intently, already discerning the outcome.

Both Liu Jun and Kuroyama were mid-stage postnatal martial artists, but Liu Jun’s foundation was slightly weaker, and he lacked the brute strength his opponent wielded.

With abundant combat experience and a strength advantage, Kuroyama gradually took control, forcing Liu Jun to retreat.

“Heh heh, get off the stage,” Kuroyama taunted as he pushed Liu Jun to the edge, his attacks intensifying.

Both palms surged forward with sharp, overwhelming force.

Liu Jun’s face paled as he struggled to block.

“Bang!”

Kuroyama’s strike slammed into Liu Jun’s arms, the immense power sending him flying off the platform.

Liu Jun collapsed onto the ground, blood trickling from his mouth.

The blow had inflicted internal injuries.

“Heh, Yanhuang warriors still disappoint me—too weak. I’m not even interested anymore,” Kuroyama sneered contemptuously.

Liu Jun clenched his fists tightly, his face darkening with frustration.

As a loser, he had no right to argue—only to resent his own inadequacy.

“Damn it, those Fusang bastards are so damn arrogant. I want to jump up and punch them myself.”

“Brother, calm down. They have the skill to back it up. If you go up now, you’ll only get beaten.”

“Sigh, looks like Yanhuang’s going to get completely crushed again this time.”

The Yanhuang crowd seethed in anger at Kuroyama’s haughty demeanor, itching to drag him down and trample him mercilessly.

Yet, there was a helplessness in their hearts—no capable warriors among their ranks to fight back, their frustration trapped within.

“Kuroyama, two consecutive victories—how do you find your opponents?”

A Fusang official approached Kuroyama, brimming with excitement.

Kuroyama laughed heartily into the microphone. “Hahaha, my opponents are trash. I could sweep them all aside easily. Looks like Koizumi Shirou won’t even need to step up.”

“Kuroyama’s confidence is well-founded. With his strength, Fusang will surely claim first place this year,” the official declared enthusiastically to the cameras.

Those watching felt a surge of irritation at the Fusang official’s arrogance.

“Damn it, those Fusang people are unbearably cocky. Right at the start, they already act like champions.”

“Just wait until they meet a real opponent; they’ll learn what it means to die.”

The crowd muttered under their breath, especially the Yanhuang supporters, burning with rage.

Wang Gang glared fiercely at Kuroyama’s arrogance, itching to go up and crush him, but Yang Fan had yet to give the order.

So Wang Gang sat silently, vowing inwardly, “When it’s my turn, I’ll smash these arrogant bastards to pieces.”

“I’m stepping down to rest for now. If someone interesting shows up, I’ll come back to challenge,” Kuroyama said with a smirk as he returned to Fusang’s seats.

“Koizumi Shirou, looks like you won’t need to act. I can handle these guys,” Kuroyama said to a young man nearby.

“Heh, there’s still a postnatal mid-stage opponent among them. I’ll have to step in then,” Koizumi smiled lightly.

Kuroyama’s expression shifted slightly at the mention of a postnatal mid-stage opponent—if that were true, he truly wouldn’t be able to handle him.

After Kuroyama’s exit, the next fighter was from Paocai Nation, named Jin Zhengxuan.

“Wu Zhihao, step up. I’m giving you a chance to defeat me.”

Jin Zhengxuan’s gaze fixed on the first young Yanhuang warrior in the audience.

Without hesitation, Wu Zhihao rose and approached the arena.

Last time, he had come close to defeating Jin Zhengxuan but ultimately lost, leaving him deeply unsatisfied.

This time, he was determined to win.

“Wu Zhihao is no match,” Chen Yang Gong shook his head. “Jin Zhengxuan has just broken through to the postnatal mid-stage. His strength is several times greater than before.”

“Wu Zhihao has good potential. Given time, reaching postnatal mid-stage won’t be a problem,” Elder Han said with approval, watching Wu Zhihao on the stage.

Wu Zhihao’s eyes burned with fighting spirit.

“Wu Zhihao, today I’ll defeat you decisively, so you understand the gap between us,” Jin Zhengxuan said confidently.

“Enough talk. Let’s fight,” Wu Zhihao replied solemnly, launching the first strike.

He radiated spiritual power, attacking Jin Zhengxuan with fierce momentum.

A contemptuous smile played on Jin Zhengxuan’s lips as he countered.

A wave of overwhelming aura pressed down on Wu Zhihao, shaking him to his core.

“Postnatal mid-stage,” Wu Zhihao thought, shocked.

He hadn’t expected Jin Zhengxuan to have reached postnatal mid-stage strength, struggling to accept it.

Though stunned, he didn’t retreat.

The two clashed instantly, fists and feet colliding amid a cacophony of sounds.

With the vast difference in strength, Wu Zhihao was beaten mercilessly, unable to fight back, pushed steadily backward, his hands numb from the impact.

“Get off,” Jin Zhengxuan roared, unleashing a powerful punch with a surge of energy.

“Bang!”

“Pfft!”

Wu Zhihao’s chest was struck, blood spraying forth as he was sent flying, falling off the arena.

In less than three minutes, Jin Zhengxuan defeated Wu Zhihao with overwhelming power.

“Sigh, looks like the Fusang warriors were right—you Yanhuang fighters really are trash,” Jin Zhengxuan mocked Wu Zhihao before leaving the stage and returning to his seat.

Wu Zhihao’s face darkened with anger but he had no words of rebuttal.

As a loser, he had no right to argue.

“The warriors from Paocai and Fusang are all so arrogantly conceited. They can’t be changed,” Chen Yang Gong shook his head, displeased.

“Then let them learn a lesson,” Yang Fan said calmly. “Wang Gang, don’t embarrass me.”

“Master, rest assured. I won’t let you down,” Wang Gang replied firmly.

Finally, it was his turn to step onto the stage, his heart pounding with excitement.

If he wasn’t allowed up soon, he feared his frustration would cause internal injuries.

Seeing the opponents’ arrogance only fueled his rage.