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Chapter_219
The martial techniques of the Ihara Martial Arts School had their roots in the ancient and unorthodox martial traditions of the Somer Nation. But unlike the refined and meditative practices now favored across Somer—where martial arts were used to promote health, balance, and inner peace—Ihara’s teachings were vicious, honed purely for killing. Their moves weren’t crafted for sport or demonstration; they were designed to cripple, maim, and destroy.
Newi cast a sharp glance toward Nash. His eyes, cold and unwavering, burned with silent challenge.
Suddenly, a loud impact rang out across the martial arts stage.
Kristian’s already injured leg was struck brutally by the amputated great-grandmaster. Forced to one knee, Kristian didn’t hesitate. He slapped the severed stump of his opponent’s right leg with a sharp burst of inner energy.
The great-grandmaster tried to dodge, but he was a fraction too slow. The impact disrupted the flow of his inner power. Blood burst from the severed joint, splattering across the floor.
With a swift surge of momentum, Kristian rose, using his good leg to propel himself forward. His knee shot upward with explosive force—landing squarely beneath the opponent’s chin.
Crack!
Blood spilled from the amputated great-grandmaster’s mouth, nose, and ears as he was flung out of the arena.
Kristian had won.
But to do so… he had targeted the one leg that had already been amputated for the sake of a “fair match.”
Gasps and shouts erupted around the stage.
The long-haired young man’s fury boiled over. “To prove fairness, my martial brother got his right leg amputated! And you go and attack that very leg? What kind of victory is that?”
“How shameful!”
“Disgraceful!”
“His martial brother sacrificed a limb, and that’s how you respond?”
Several self-proclaimed journalists shouted indignantly from the crowd. But their outrage was scripted—they had been bribed by Kai, sent to stir up public condemnation against the Hero Martial Arts School.
Kristian said nothing.
He simply limped off the stage in silence, head down.
As he descended, Zakariah stepped forward and, without a word, slapped him across the face.
“You scoundrel…” Zakariah’s voice trembled with rage and disappointment. “Have you forgotten everything I taught you?”
“Grandpa…” Skadi stepped between them, clinging to her grandfather’s arm. “Kris only did it for the sake of the school…”
But Zakariah’s hand pointed firmly toward the exit.
“Leave,” he said coldly. “From this day forward, Hero Martial Arts School no longer has a place for you.”
Under the murmuring crowd and countless judging stares, Kristian turned and walked toward the exit without protest.
Nash chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.
“So stubborn,” he muttered. “No wonder his students are all so weak.”
The first match was over. Now it was time for the second.
This time, it was Skadi who would step onto the stage—facing none other than the long-haired young man himself.
Before anyone else could speak, Newi stood and announced, “The second round will be between my grandson and Miss Skadi, the granddaughter of Master Zabel. No use of inner energy will be allowed from either side. What do you say, Mr. Calcraft?”
The question wasn’t really aimed at Nash. It was a calculated move. Newi cared little for the result of the first match. It was the second and third rounds that mattered—the duels that would determine legacy, power, and survival.
His real targets were Zakariah and his granddaughter.
Zakariah had already signed the challenge letter. Nash had no grounds to refuse.
“Agreed,” Zakariah replied solemnly.
The long-haired young man stepped onto the martial arts stage, cracking his neck as he walked. A sinister grin curled on his lips.
“Miss Skadi,” he said with a sneer, “I won’t be holding back this time.”
Skadi’s eyes narrowed, her tone as cold as ice.
“Neither will I.”
Without hesitation, she lunged forward, reaching to grab the man’s neck.
He dodged swiftly, seizing her wrist and slamming his shoulder toward her chest. Skadi spun slightly, sidestepping just enough to avoid the blow, then sent her left elbow arcing toward his face.
He raised his left arm to block the strike, and in the same motion, thrust a punch with his right fist directly at her throat.
Their speed was dazzling. The long-haired man’s attacks grew increasingly ruthless, forcing Skadi onto the defensive. Her heart raced, alarm rising in her chest.
Nash, watching quietly from his seat, began tapping his knuckles rhythmically on the armrest.
Skadi was using the Palm Punches Technique—a fluid style composed of five basic palm movements: throwing, slapping, piercing, chopping, and gathering. It was a rare technique where the hand transformed seamlessly from palm to fist, enabling quick, pinpoint strikes that could be retracted with minimal effort.
The long-haired man missed a blow.
Skadi seized the opportunity. She locked onto his wrist and, with surprising strength, flipped him into the air using an over-the-shoulder throw.
Though she was small in stature, the move sent him flying.
But just before he hit the ground… he smiled.
A cruel, mocking smile.
Skadi’s eyes widened in horror. Her instincts screamed danger. She instantly surged her inner energy to shield her chest.
But—
She was a second too late.