You Are Really No Match For Me [Fighting] - Chapter 22

When Jin Yu went to the infirmary to get her wounds treated, the matches were still ongoing. After all, each fight lasted at most half an hour—if the audience only got that much, the ticket price would hardly seem worth it. That was why the month-long public tournament didn’t feature only Jin Yu, but many other fighters as well.

 

For example, there were regulars like King Kong, Dong An, and Wang Da. Five rounds took place each day, and today’s last fight was Wang Da’s.

 

Truth be told, Wang Da didn’t know where he got the courage. One impulsive moment and he had signed up. Luckily, his opponent wasn’t a true martial artist either—he wore only a basic exoskeleton mechanical gauntlet, far inferior to Song Jing’s expensive pressurized model. The man lacked power but had tricky angles and a high hit rate.

 

Wang Da, for his part, wore a cheap exoskeleton gauntlet he’d picked up secondhand. He was tough and could take a beating, but his accuracy wasn’t great. The two of them bumbled about like rookies pecking at each other, but they fought long and hard. After three rounds, Wang Da scraped a narrow victory, which gave him a bit of confidence.

 

When the referee announced his win, it also meant the day’s matches had come to an end. Wang Da climbed down from the ring, gulping down water.

 

Around him, the audience was still animatedly discussing the day’s fights. Jin Yu’s name came up again and again—

 

“That girl, Jin Yu—pretty face, sure, but damn, her strikes are brutal!”

“Right? I thought for sure, first fight, first-time rookie—she was just gonna be sacrificed for the crowd. But who would’ve guessed? Bam! Sent Song Jing flying like a rag doll!”

“Exactly! And those legs—slender, beautiful—and yet that speed when she kicks, it’s terrifying!”

 

Wang Da grinned sheepishly. That side kick really had been beautiful. Everyone, himself included, couldn’t get it out of their minds. She was just too strong!

 

But Wang Da had a hunch—Jin Yu definitely had more up her sleeve. That kick was hardly her only weapon.

 

Just then, Liang Yu came out of the broadcasting booth, giving Wang Da a playful jab in the chest.

 

“Not bad, huh? You sneaky bastard, went and signed up without a word!”

 

Wang Da scratched the back of his head and chuckled. “I just wanted to give it a try. Been hanging around the arena for days but never actually fought in the ring.”

 

“Cut the crap,” Liang Yu shoved him with a grin. “I know you. You’re just after that thousand-yuan prize money for a win, aren’t you?”

 

Wang Da grinned wider and nodded.

 

Liang Yu slung an arm around his neck. “Come on! You’re buying dinner and drinks tonight!”

 

Wang Da hesitated, glancing toward the infirmary. Part of him wanted to thank Jin Yu. Honestly, he’d won today largely because of the moves she had taught him days earlier.

 

He wasn’t skilled at flashy techniques—just used the straight punch and hook Jin Yu had drilled into him. But he had a solid stance, and the basics were enough to scrape by. Still, he thought, Who am I to her, really?

 

She had no shortage of admirers. With that thought, he shook his head and decided not to bother her.

 

But as he and Liang Yu turned to leave, Dong An appeared in their path.

 

He wore his trademark mane of golden hair, wild and flowing over his shoulders like a lion’s, earning him the nickname “Golden Lion King.” Known for his devastating leg strikes, he was a minor celebrity in the arena.

 

Wang Da tried to greet him casually and slip away, but Dong An sneered and blocked his way.

 

“I hear you’re playing sparring partner for that little slut Jin Yu now? What, did she drug you, or maybe she’s just that good in bed she lured you over?”

 

Wang Da hadn’t told Liang Yu about this yet, and Liang Yu’s eyes went wide. But he quickly snapped back, retorting:

 

“You only show up at the arena once or twice a month. What, you expect Wang Da to just sit around waiting for you all day? People want to move up in life. You never treated him well, so why shouldn’t he look for better opportunities?”

 

“Don’t—don’t make a scene,” Wang Da whispered nervously. “People are watching…”

 

Indeed, a crowd had gathered. Dong An gave a disdainful snort.

 

“Fine then. Tomorrow I fight that slut. If I win, don’t even think about crawling back to me!”

 

Wang Da just answered flatly: “Oh.”

 

That “oh” left Dong An momentarily speechless. He was used to Wang Da’s worshipful gaze—after all, Wang Da had always been his training partner, deferential and respectful. He basked in that. Everyone had their vanity.

 

But Wang Da wasn’t stupid—just inexperienced. After spending time with Jin Yu, he had learned something: only by becoming strong could one earn the right to speak.

 

The locker room, the luxury Maserati worth two million, today’s arrangements—all of it was given to her because of her ability. Without it, who would go to such lengths for her?

 

Dong An, stifled by that indifferent “oh,” could only growl “You’ll see,” before storming off.

 

Wang Da exhaled in relief—only to turn and meet Liang Yu’s furious glare. His heart tightened, but before he could explain, Liang Yu suddenly broke into a sycophantic grin.

 

“Wang Da, brother, you know I’ve always treated you well, right? We’re good friends, right? Don’t forget me now that you’re moving up! Put in a good word with Jin Yu—get her to take me as a sparring partner too!”

 

Wang Da had no way to shake him off. Liang Yu often belittled him, but here in the arena, he was his only real friend. Unable to say no, Wang Da muttered, “I’ll ask her, but I can’t promise anything…”

 

“That’s fine, just ask!” Liang Yu said cheerfully.

 

The next day, Wang Da arrived early at the arena. Sure enough, the match schedule showed that the third fight was Jin Yu versus Dong An. He rushed to the training room, where he found Jin Yu and Coach Jin Mu.

 

Jin Mu was strapped with pads, while Jin Yu drilled kick after kick into him.

 

Another heavy whip kick landed with a thwack, and Wang Da blurted, “Miss Jin Yu, today you’re fighting Dong An—”

 

“You came just in time,” Jin Mu interrupted. “You can be the punching bag now.”

 

Wang Da clamped his mouth shut, suited up, and stood in front of Jin Yu while Jin Mu observed and took notes.

 

Her whip kick slammed into him, and Wang Da gritted his teeth, barely keeping his stance.

 

“Go on,” Jin Yu prompted.

 

Panting, Wang Da continued, “Dong An trains taekwondo. His whip kick is powerful, and if he sweeps you to the ground, he’ll pin you there.”

 

Jin Yu smirked. “So, are you telling me this because you want me to win, or because you don’t?”

 

Embarrassed, Wang Da smiled back. “Of course I want you to win. You’re not just good at fighting—you’re a good person too. I want you to win.”

 

Jin Yu burst into laughter. “Hahaha! That’s the most straightforward compliment I’ve heard in ages. You’ve got more tact than someone I know.”

 

Jin Mu paused, remembering he’d only said “not bad” to her yesterday. It did sound rather perfunctory now…

 

Jin Yu launched into another combo, her fists hammering the pads Wang Da held. He held steady.

 

She added with a grin, “I saw your match yesterday against… what was his name, Yu Liang? You did well. Keep it up.”

 

Wang Da flushed crimson. With his dark skin and swollen jaw, he looked like a bruised, tongue-tied fool. “That’s all thanks to you teaching me. Remember the straight and hook you showed me? Those two punches were all I had, but they carried me through.”

 

This time Jin Mu couldn’t help but cough into his fist.

 

Jin Yu laughed so hard she clutched her stomach. “You really are a character, Wang Da.”

 

He didn’t get it, and just grinned dumbly.

 

Kick after kick followed—low, middle, high—until time slipped away.

 

An hour later, it was time for Jin Yu and Dong An’s match.

 

From the stands, Zheng Ru, Zheng Li, and Liang Chunyuan leaned forward, craning their necks. Thanks to Jin Yu, Wang Da had a good spot by the ring.

 

He scanned the crowd. Twice as many spectators as yesterday. Though he knew Jin Yu was strong, he still couldn’t help but worry for her.

 

BEEP!

 

Boss Mo’s booming voice filled the arena.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen! This match, sponsored by Signal Processing Co., is the 8th fight of the public tournament!”

 

“In the blue corner, the Golden Lion King—Dong An! In the red corner, the rookie—Jin Yu!”

 

Dong An snarled the moment he entered. “One round. That’s all I’ll need to take you down.”

 

Jin Yu smiled calmly. “Bring it.”

 

Referee Yang Su stepped between them. “You both know the rules. Fight fair.” He backed away. “Touch gloves and return to your corners—fight!”

 

The gloves tapped. Jin Yu slipped in her mouthguard, eyes fixed on Dong An’s shins. He had mechanical enhancements installed in his knees, visible beneath the skin—likely what gave his kicks their speed and power.

 

They circled toward the center. Dong An fired a low sweep at her legs. Jin Yu held steady and countered with a heavy hook at his head, forcing him back.

 

Commentator Xiao Bai swallowed nervously. “We can see how fast Dong An’s kicks are, starting strong with a low sweep. How should Jin Yu respond?”

 

Dong An snapped out a middle kick aimed at her shoulder—but Jin Yu rolled to the floor, dodging cleanly. He lunged to pin her, but she popped back to her feet before he could touch her.

 

From the stands, Liang Yu shouted, “Whoa! No one expected that slick forward roll! Jin Yu completely defused his whip kick—this woman’s pulling off miracle after miracle!”

 

Dong An thrust another kick at her knee, but Jin Yu was ready—she caught it on her arms, nearly dumping him to the mat. He pulled back quickly, setting his foot down.

 

They traded probing punches in the center. Jin Yu pressed close with a jab-cross-hook combo, forcing him to defend, then spun aside as another whip kick sailed past.

 

“Beautiful!” Xiao Bai cried. “She read that kick before it even left the ground. Could it be she’s already predicted his patterns?”

 

Dong An’s knee joint was heating up, yet he hadn’t landed a single clean leg strike. His advantage had evaporated before this woman.

 

Watching her fight was nothing like seeing her on screen yesterday. Up close, her presence was suffocating. Five-foot-seven, fifty-three kilos, and yet with that speed, power, and agility, she seemed to have no weaknesses.

 

His kicks could topple a full-grown man weighing 120 pounds. Yet she shrugged them off.

 

What kind of monster is this woman?!

 

He probed with a jab, then stepped back, coiling for another kick—a fast front kick this time.

 

The crowd gasped. Liang Yu shouted, “The front kick! Dong An’s deadliest move! He once floored an opponent in an instant with it!”

 

But Jin Yu rolled beneath, snatching his raised leg and shoving him onto the canvas.

 

The audience gasped again.

 

Xiao Bai slapped his thigh. “Beautiful! A textbook leg catch and throw!”

 

Dong An tried to snare her in a triangle choke, but Jin Yu moved faster, breaking his legs apart and slipping to side control. He hammered her with his fist, straining to buck her off.

 

Damn it, she’s too strong!

 

Struggling desperately, he nearly shook her off, but Jin Yu rolled—her legs snapping around his arm.

 

An armbar. In mid-air.

 

Pain stabbed through Dong An’s shoulder like it was tearing apart. He slapped her thigh frantically, conceding defeat.

 

The referee pried them apart. Round break—one minute.

 

Dong An sat fuming in his corner. He knew he’d lost his head and failed to perform. But seeing Wang Da, of all people, wiping Jin Yu’s sweat with adoration in his eyes—it made him curse under his breath.

 

“Fvck…”

 

At his side appeared King Kong, who rumbled, “Don’t underestimate her. She’s strong.”

 

Dong An sneered. “Strong? She just keeps running, never meeting my attacks head-on.”

 

King Kong’s mechanical arm clamped his shoulder. “Fight seriously.”

 

In the stands, both Liang Chunyuan and Zheng Ru had leapt to their feet, shouting in awe. They had trained in jiu-jitsu themselves and knew exactly how technical her armbar had been.

 

But it wasn’t just that—the way she rolled like a fish in water, always slipping free. No wonder Dong An was stuck in her rhythm. His kicks were lightning, but she always seemed a step ahead.

 

DING! DING! DING! Round two began.

 

Dong An forced down his frustration. Don’t obsess with kicks. If they’re not landing, they’re just openings for her. I’ve got my fists too.

 

But before he could settle, Jin Yu attacked first. Two straight punches forced him back—then she sprang into a whip kick low at his legs.

 

Her leg carried real force, but not overwhelming. Relieved, Dong An relaxed—only for another whip kick to crash into his face a heartbeat later.

 

The double strike.

 

Dong An collapsed to the floor.

 

Liang Yu erupted louder than Xiao Bai, yelling, “The double flying kick! Jin Yu just knocked out the Golden Lion King!”

 

Xiao Bai nearly tore his hair out—that was supposed to be his line!

 

On the canvas, Dong An stared glassy-eyed at the referee’s fingers before the dizziness overwhelmed him and he blacked out.

 

Zheng Li’s startled cry snapped the crowd from their silence. Then the arena exploded in cheers, a chant rolling like thunder:

 

“Jin Yu! Jin Yu!”

 

Zheng Ru, no longer hiding her admiration, joined in at the top of her lungs: “Jin Yu! Jin Yu!”

 

On stage, Jin Yu seemed to hear Zheng Ru, Liang Chunyuan, and Zheng Li, glancing toward them through the roar.

 

Liang Chunyuan murmured, “I want to fight her.”

 

Zheng Ru replied, “That would be thrilling.”

 

Zheng Li grinned wickedly. “No need—I already signed both of you up!”