Super Fighting Tokyo

Chapter 8 A Layman's Reminder

In just one round of attack and defense, blood was drawn on the stage.

It wasn't cut with a knife or glass, but was genuinely caused by a pure beating with wrist strength, making it all the more violent and bloody!
"Hey..."

Komada grunted forcefully, managing to clear his nose.

He certainly hadn't expected Bai Mucheng's advance to be so fast, but as a professional fighter, he quickly adjusted his rhythm and gained the offensive advantage.

Just as they were about to give chase, they suddenly heard Bai Mucheng shouting some inexplicable words, as if in a provocation.

"...Let me know where I went wrong?"

The excruciating pain from his broken nasal bone reached his brain, making Komada's expression even more ferocious; he was now truly enraged.

"I was curious before, if you were really forced to play this match, why didn't you secretly beg me to go easy on you? Now I think the answer is probably quite simple."

Komada grabbed his collar with his large hand and ripped the fabric apart.

"You're a... madman!"

Hiss!

His shirt was torn open, revealing Komada's bare upper body, with large, well-defined muscles that accentuated his physical prowess!
The spectators at the casino couldn't help but think this—

Its posture is like that of a benevolent king!
In fact, Komada does have a Niou tattooed on his back, which blends seamlessly with his monstrous body, as if a god truly resides within it.

"Where did you go wrong?"

Komada pretended to answer, then suddenly threw out the tattered clothes in his hand to block Shiraki's view. At the same time, he flashed forward and threw a left hook.

Bai Mucheng didn't have time to dodge properly, so he could only brace his arms under his chin and take the heavy punches head-on.

boom!
He took a few steps back again, and his forearm was visibly red and swollen.

"You made a mistake by underestimating the difference in 'magnitude'."

Komada flexed his wrist as he threw a punch, closing in step by step.

"Formal boxing has evolved to the point where it is divided into seventeen weight classes, with only a 2-3 kilogram difference between adjacent weight classes. This is precisely to ensure the entertainment value and fairness of the competition."

"The weight difference between us is about 25kg, so there's no way I can beat you."

"'Strength' is directly proportional to 'physique'; the small are suppressed by the large, and the short are trampled by the tall—this is the true reality!"

Before he could finish speaking, Komada suddenly stomped his feet—

chap!
Even though he was too far away to reach Shiraki, Komada still kicked out with a high kick. It turned out that the soles of his shoes were covered in mud and sand from the field, and he used his kick to send it flying toward Shiraki.

Shiraki Shigeaki squinted to shield his eyes, never daring to take his gaze off Komada, because the real killing move would inevitably follow.

As expected, Komada followed up with a straight kick—

boom!
Shiraki Shigeki dodged to the side, barely avoiding the impact, causing Komada's foot to land on the wooden fence behind him.

With a loud crash, the sturdy solid wood fence was kicked and shattered, scattering wood chips all over the ground.

"?!"

This scene left the spectators speechless.

That was a solid wood fence, so tough that even a motorcycle couldn't break it, and it would take a lot of effort to split it with an axe, yet Komada just kicked it to pieces!

However, a few knowledgeable people—such as Mie Tang, Wu Fengshui, Garuda, and Bai Mucheng on the field—can easily see the intricacies involved.

Komada's shoes were most likely stuffed with a metal plate!
"That was a ruthless attack; I absolutely cannot get hit..."

Shiraki moved his five fingers to barely relieve the soreness and numbness in his forearm, but "Komada" and "Takashi" in his field of vision were closing in again, which was equivalent to fighting two at the same time!

"How do I defuse Komada's offensive? And what exactly is Takashi trying to teach me with his punches?"

Bai Mucheng was panting heavily, barely managing to dodge with his feet, each dodge fraught with danger.

……

……

The competition reached a fever pitch, with cheers from the spectators filling the air.

Outside the fence, Katahara Metsudo looked excited and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere.

"Hehe, even though it's not a Kengan match, it's still quite entertaining!"

He turned to his drinking buddy beside him—Akagi Shigeru—and happily introduced, "Feeling good, huh? But the official Kengan matches are even more exciting, with many fighters I'd recommend..."

Mitsudo spoke with great enthusiasm, but Akagi Shigeru listened with little interest.

"Hmm?" Metsudou asked, puzzled. "Akagi-kun, are you tired?"

"...I suppose so." Akagi smiled faintly, looking down at the glass in his hand, where only a little whiskey remained, the golden liquid reflecting his eyes. "Thank you for your hospitality tonight. After I finish this drink, I'll take my leave."

"Eh~?"

Metsudo knew that Akagi had an indifferent temperament, so he wasn't angry. He just couldn't suppress his curiosity and started acting like a rascal.

"Why are you unhappy? Akagi-kun, it's rare for us to get out and have fun. If I don't know why, I'll feel so guilty I won't be able to sleep!"

"..."

Akagi thought for a moment and also felt it would be impolite to leave like this, so he explained, "This so-called enthusiastic atmosphere is all 'fake'..."

Upon hearing this, Wu Fengshui, who was standing to the side, asked in confusion, "It's quite lively around here. Are all the other spectators actors who have been hired?"

"No, it's not about the performance being fake."

Akagi took a sip of whiskey, glanced at the spectators, and sighed softly, "In fact, the passion of the crowd at this moment is only because there is a predictable 'fixed result'."

"—For example: the blood from being beaten, Komada's victory, and the money won after betting on Komada."

"In my opinion, what is taking place in the ring is not a fighting match, nor is it a gambling game, but merely a boring performance that goes through the motions, and there is no winner or loser."

"Ha ha……"

Akagi smiled faintly, lit a cigarette, and mocked himself helplessly.

“I really… dislike this feeling. Perhaps it’s just my personal quirk, but I’m not interested in things that are ‘without a winner or loser’.”

"Anyway, thank you for your hospitality, goodbye."

Akagi exhaled a puff of white smoke and was about to leave when he heard Metsudou suddenly laugh.

"Hehe, it hurts to be looked down upon like this..."

"Huh?" Akagi was taken aback and stopped in his tracks.

Mie Tang revealed a sharp look, and said with a smile, "Do you think I would like superficial excitement? I'm not senile yet!"

"I don't care about the crowd. What can attract my attention right now is only the fighters on the arena."

Mie Tang looked towards the arena, his gaze landing on Bai Mucheng, who was steadily losing ground.

"In the arena, besides those who are driven by money, reckless, or have other motives, there exists another type of person—"

"A purer kind of person."

“My sense of smell is not bad, so I can tell that the young man’s scent is somewhat similar to yours, Akagi-kun.”

"..."

Akagi didn't think he was anything special, but Metsudo's words made him re-examine the match, and then he noticed a few details.

"...I see, is that so? Hehe, there are indeed some 'errors'."

……

Swish—bang!

After barely dodging Komada's kick, Komada Kazutaka's heavy punch came again, hitting Shiraki's raised forearm and sending him crashing into the wooden fence behind him.

This isn't a formal competition; there's no rule that you lose if you leave the field, so jumping off the field won't help.

Bai Mucheng's arm rested on the wooden board, barely supporting his body. He felt an unbearable throbbing pain in his forearm, and he could barely clench his fist. The continuous dodging had left him with very little strength.

But what Takashi wanted to convey to himself—his own potential "deep-seated error"—was also the key to the outcome of this battle, something Shiraki Cheng could never quite grasp.

"...to live in the face of death."

A deep reminder rang in Bai Mucheng's ears.

He glanced to the side and saw that the speaker was an old man with white hair, while You Sha, Wu Fengshui and others were standing beside him.

Before he could think about who the white-haired man was, Bai Mucheng subconsciously asked, "Are you... giving me a hint? Like, something about techniques?"

"No, I know absolutely nothing about fighting, and I'm a complete novice when it comes to fighting."

Shigeru Akagi took a drag on his cigarette and said slowly in a deep voice, "However, you've already died in terms of momentum. You no longer have a strong desire to win; you only hope to 'avoid' it."

"People who keep losing at gambling will eventually fall into this way of thinking."

"You're just trying to 'dodge' it."

Akagi Shigeru's eyes were fixed on Shiraki Shige, and he gently flicked the ash from his cigarette.

Ultimately, I believe that the method of "successfully dodging and then winning" is not as good as "winning directly".

(End of this chapter)