You Are Really No Match For Me [Fighting] - Chapter 17

Xiao Bai strutted over to their table with an exaggerated swagger, hands in pockets, sunglasses perched arrogantly on his face, his hair dyed in a wild burst of purple.
“Jin Mu, I know you’re Xiao Yu’s coach, but Xiao Yu is my person. If you want to meet with my artist privately, shouldn’t you get my permission first?”

Jin Mu chuckled. “Oh? Since when was that a rule?”

“Our Xiao Yu doesn’t understand these things. Who knows if you’ll scam her again? Last time, I wasn’t around and you tricked her badly. What scheme are you plotting this time? Don’t think I don’t see through you. All you want is money, isn’t it?”

Leaning back, Jin Mu crossed his legs. “After all this time, you’re still hung up on that money. Fine then, I’ll pay it back.”

“You will? Then pay it back now!” Xiao Bai slapped the table so hard that the coffee cup trembled.

“Miss Jin Yu, please don’t misunderstand. I’m only returning the money so we can continue working together. That money came from Mr. Bai Hanqing—your manager—who lost a wager to me one year ago.”

Xiao Bai shoved his face close to Jin Mu’s, glaring. “That’s because you cheated me!”

Jin Mu smirked. “Let’s be clear: I didn’t cheat. You simply didn’t ask the terms properly beforehand. That’s on you.”

Xiao Bai grabbed Jin Mu by the collar. “You—!”

Jin Yu tugged at Xiao Bai’s leather jacket hem, whispering, “This is a restaurant. Sit down and talk.”

“Hmph.” Xiao Bai dropped back into his seat beside Jin Yu, ordering the most expensive coffee on the menu.

Jin Mu said coolly, “That coffee’s on you.”

“Hmph. Stingy miser. Fine, I’ll pay it myself. You think I can’t afford one cup of coffee?”

When the coffee arrived, Jin Yu tapped the table. “Let’s talk about the electronic brain. My understanding is shallow. That’s when the human brain is directly linked to the network, correct? And the interface is usually at the back of the neck?”

Xiao Bai cut in eagerly. “Let me explain! That’s right. But the technology is so expensive most people can’t afford it. Ordinary people mostly use non-invasive brain–computer interfaces.” He tapped the chip embedded at his temple. “Otherwise they stick to devices that need charging and manual input, like old portable gadgets.”

“Most people go with the second type—the chip implant. It doesn’t harm the body and saves you the hassle of carrying and charging physical devices. So it’s the most common.”

Jin Mu interjected, “Miss Jin may be from a poor background, but how could you not even know this? Haven’t you ever heard of it?”

“Shut up!” Jin Yu and Xiao Bai snapped in unison. Jin Mu shrugged and mimed zipping his lips.

Xiao Bai continued, “Direct-link electronic brains are convenient and allow internal communications, but they’re vulnerable to hackers. Usually only the military and police use them since their firewalls are high-grade and harder to breach.”

Jin Mu clapped lightly. “Looks like you do know quite a bit.”

Jin Yu drummed her knuckles on the table. “Now, tell me about those five fighters.”

Xiao Bai kicked the table leg. “Hey, your turn.”

“Swipe left on the tablet.”

Jin Yu swiped left, and a muscular figure appeared on the screen.

• • Liang Chunyuan, 26, former soldier, 188 cm tall. Calm and forceful fighting style. Lost his right leg in war, replaced with a military-grade prosthetic. His biomech lizard-foot can latch firmly onto the ground, giving him powerful defensive stability.

• • Zheng Ru, 23, 173 cm, from a Brazilian jiu-jitsu family. Cunning and ruthless style. Her exoskeletal right arm enhances striking durability, combined with grappling locks (rear naked choke, armbar) that can instantly subdue opponents at close range.

• • Song Jing, 20, former pro race car driver who switched to fighting after an accident. Flashy, flamboyant style like a circus act. His explosive mechanical gauntlets deliver extreme burst damage, paired with racing-level reflexes for lightning combos. Relies on feints and showy moves, but has weak lower-body stability—vulnerable to takedowns.

• • Lu Mingxiu, son-in-law of a martial arts gym owner, former bank president. Uses modular Wolverine-style claws, skilled at precise mid-range slashes that can sever prosthetic tubing or tendons.

• • Durant, retired professional fighter, extremely experienced. Expert in ground-and-pound (GNP), adept at spotting prosthetic weaknesses (like joint connections) and smashing them brutally.

“But you don’t need to challenge all of them,” Jin Mu said. “Beating three will be enough to prove your strength.”

Jin Yu nodded. “Xiao Bai, what do you think?”

Scrolling through the images, Xiao Bai sneered. “Honestly? I think these five aren’t as strong as Li Yang or Scorpion Woman. No fame, no flashy prosthetics—nothing worth watching. Xiao Yu could crush them easily. Why waste our time?”

Jin Mu chuckled. “You think every fight club has the money our underground arena does?”

“This is a legit martial gym. They don’t make underground money. Their income comes from matches and student tuition. Where would they get the funds for flashy prosthetics or big marketing campaigns?”

Xiao Bai shrugged. “Fair point. So do we even need to fight them? Feels pointless.”

Jin Yu asked, “Then what’s your plan?”

“Remember what I said before? Two-month campaign, post notices all over Jiangbei—‘Anyone who can beat you in the ring gets 200,000 in prize money.’”

“You already started that, didn’t you? Has it worked?”

“Sort of. Not many takers yet. I think we should raise the bounty online.”

“Two million?”

“That’s too much! What if too many people show up?”

Jin Yu and Jin Mu spoke in unison: “Better too many than none.”

Jin Mu blinked, then saw Jin Yu grin and raise her fist. They bumped knuckles. Xiao Bai, annoyed at being left out, shoved in. “Count me in too!”

Just then, Jin Yu felt something flicker. She scanned the café but saw nothing suspicious—only a security camera blinking red.

“What’s wrong?” Xiao Bai asked.

Jin Mu rewound his cybernetic vision. “That camera just turned toward us. Someone might be watching.” The three of them fixed their gaze on the blinking red light.

Behind the camera, someone suddenly yanked out the neural interface cable from the back of their neck.

30 minutes earlier

A holographic video spread across Motley Academy’s online forum like a virus—four uniformed boys surrounding a small, frail girl, beating her while laughing cruelly.

29 minutes earlier

Classroom holo-screens flickered. Every display instantly switched to the same video—this time zoomed tenfold. The boys’ faces were crystal-clear in close-up: twisted grins, fevered eyes, veins bulging at their temples. In the corner glowed bl00d-red text:
[Evidence No. A-114. Stored on blockchain. Permanently immutable.]

25 minutes earlier, in the discipline office.

“How could you do such a thing?!” The dean’s high heels pounded the floor like gunfire.

“That slut Su Wanying set us up!” the ringleader boy shouted. “The video’s AI fake!”

“Su Wanying never even reported this!” The dean slammed open a drawer, tossing out a data card. “This came from an anonymous hacker. It even matches your smartwatch heart-rate logs! Want me to play your spiking adrenaline during the attack?”

Silence.

“You’ll apologize to Su Wanying immediately. Or else—”

“No way!” the boy kicked over a chair. “My mom’s on the school board!”

The dean sneered. “This blew up too big. You think your mom can protect you?”

“If you don’t apologize within 24 hours, the hacker will blast the video onto the hot search. Then…” She tapped the boy’s pale face lightly. “Expulsion will be the lightest punishment. Trust me, you don’t want to know what a public trial feels like.”

As the door slammed shut, the printer suddenly whirred, spitting out a sheet. One boy grabbed it with trembling hands. It read:

[Dear Motley Academy:]
[I am a passing messenger of justice.]
[If I ever see this garbage again—]
[I’ll make sure the whole world sees your ugly face.]

The dean left the office and went to the infirmary, where Su Wanying was getting checked. “Out, all of you,” she told the med staff.

“Director, I didn’t make those videos!” Su Wanying sobbed.

The dean folded her arms, snorting. “Don’t play dumb. I know your tricks.” Sitting across from her, she continued coldly, “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t care how you pulled it off. Just be careful—if the board finds out, you won’t survive it.”

“Director, I swear it wasn’t me! Maybe it was the ones who saved me that day… there were two of them. I think it was them…”

“Act all you want. I’ll bury this under the story of an ‘anonymous hacker dispensing justice.’ You know how netizens love vigilante justice. Or maybe we’ll blame a rival school. As long as you keep quiet, no one can touch you.”

Su Wanying froze. “Director, I—”

“I’ll write the medical report as severe as possible. Don’t worry, those board families have money. You’ll get a fat compensation. For now, take a week’s sick leave and stay low.”

The twist left her stunned. She’d expected a long fight—ready to dig in, deny everything, even risk blowing things up. She’d prepared to trigger her auto-alert if cornered.

But the director had instantly identified her as the culprit—and chose not to pursue it.

Su Wanying was dumbfounded.

She looked up, meeting the dean’s eyes.

No pity. No ridicule. No sympathy. None of the reactions she had imagined.

Su Wanying scrambled to her feet. “Th-then I’ll go.”

15 minutes earlier

She drifted out of the gates, wandering the streets aimlessly until hunger hit. Ducking into a burger shop, she wolfed down food, then hooked one end of a cable into her neural jack and the other into her VR headset.

It wasn’t the first time girls had “helped” her. But it always ended the same: fake kindness, holding favors over her head, making her their lackey—or ganging up to torment her. Biased teachers, fence-sitting principals—there was no such thing as a good person in this world.

And she wasn’t easy prey. In the end, they’d all suffered. She’d been transferred schools repeatedly. This time, she thought she’d hidden well. But she’d still been exposed.

Could it be because of those two who saved her?

Very possible.

1 minute earlier

“I don’t believe everyone’s good. I don’t believe you saved me with no strings attached. Let’s see what you really are—human or monster.”

Following the data trail, Su Wanying hacked through firewalls and keys, tracing until she found the three in the café. But within a single minute—she was discovered.

“Tch. What’s with people today? So damn hard to deal with!”

She shoved the last bite of bread into her mouth, washed it down with a swig of Coke, slung on her backpack, and growled:

“I’m going to meet them face to face!”