You are really no match for me [Fighting] - chapter 3

Jinyu had never lacked admirers, but she had also never been surrounded and ogled like some kind of circus monkey.

Xiaobai spun around her like a top, circling left and right as if she were a newly unearthed artifact, brimming with excitement.
“Xiaoyu, where did you get that kind of strength? You’re like Popeye after spinach!”

“Let me touch them—these are the hands that just bent King Kong’s head!”

Others chimed in too.
“Incredible, little miss, how did you do it? One ‘thud,’ and King Kong went down flat.”

Someone took advantage of the commotion to try and touch Jinyu’s arm, only to be caught in her grip. The man grinned awkwardly.
“I just wanted to check if you’re really all flesh, no synthetic fiber inside.”

Jinyu snorted and released him.
“Had enough? There’s nothing—just me.”

Su Xi, standing off to the side, had dug half the paint off her red nails before blurting out,
“My god, Xiaoyu, how did you do that? That was King Kong!”

Jinyu gave a modest smile.
“I’m not that strong. I just used leverage, borrowing force to defeat force. You’re all exaggerating.”

Meanwhile, King Kong stood alone in the ring. Everyone had flocked to Jinyu—who still had time for him?

His face was flushed blue and red, fury burning in his eyes.
“Jinyu, get up here! We fight again!”

Jinyu’s eyes narrowed.
“I can fight you again, but you’ll keep your word this time—one round, winner takes all.”

Xiaobai planted his hands on his hips, voice loud and mocking.
“Come look, everyone! The famous King Kong wants to go back on his word! How can you cheat like that? Losing is losing—no excuses! On the ring, debts must be paid!”

King Kong glared at Xiaobai, then turned to Jinyu with a sinister voice.
“Last time I was careless. This time I’m serious. Let’s go again.”

Clang, clang, clang—

The giant screen above the ring flashed with glowing words: “Jinyu VS King Kong.” In the audience stands, holographic projections of betting odds went wild, the numbers for Jinyu’s victory surging and dropping like a storm.

Grabbing a rope, Jinyu flipped lightly into the ring and saluted King Kong with a graceful bow.
“Please, give me your guidance.”

“Guidance, my ass!”

King Kong’s mechanical arm lunged at her with thunderous momentum, aimed straight for her skull. The hydraulics screamed, the force behind the punch enough to make a normal person’s head explode like a watermelon.

But just half a second before the fist could reach her forehead, Jinyu bent back, dropped low, and flipped away in a clean back handspring.

King Kong’s bl00d ran cold. The way Jinyu had locked him down and slammed him earlier clearly wasn’t a fluke.

Normally, ring fights went back and forth, blow for blow. But in the cyber-fight circuit, matches weren’t limited to brute force—since every fighter modified their bodies differently, rules allowed full freedom. As long as one’s opponent either hit the mat back-first or admitted defeat, the fight was over.

Against an opponent bigger and stronger, it was common to fight defensively, wait for an opening.

But Jinyu’s speed was uncanny, her predictions razor-sharp. She danced around King Kong’s punches with effortless grace, as if teasing a kitten or puppy. He couldn’t even graze the hem of her clothes.

By the seventeenth dodge, the vents of King Kong’s cybernetic arm whined in protest, overheating. He realized with dread that she had completely read his fighting pattern.

Panic set in—he was furious, desperate.
“Are you even going to fight, or just keep dodging? Stop toying with me!”

Jinyu shouted, voice like a whip:
“Then take this!”

She shot forward like an arrow. King Kong spread his legs, arms ready—he was waiting for her to enter his range, ready to snatch her in a bear-hug and slam her down to win back his honor.

But just as his hands closed toward her shoulders, Jinyu slipped back half a step, twisted around his outer arm, spun behind him, and kicked hard at the back of his knee. His leg buckled, nearly forcing him down.

King Kong wasn’t nicknamed for nothing—he was over 1.9 meters tall, built like a gorilla with massive shoulders and chest, plus two extended cybernetic arms. Normally, they already reached past his thighs; in combat mode, they stretched up to 1.2 meters, dangling near his calves.

He swung his arms behind to grab her, but she let go instantly, leaping two meters away.

From the crowd came shouts of support:
“King Kong, show her your real strength!”

King Kong usually relied on brute-force tactics—his two mechanical arms would disrupt the enemy’s rhythm, wearing them down until he crushed them with sheer stamina.

Against Jinyu, though, it wasn’t working. She had been moving nonstop for nearly fifteen minutes without her breath faltering once. She never stayed in one spot for longer than five seconds—perfectly timed, like she had springs under her feet.

Was this woman really just a janitor?

Several times she darted behind him, trying to repeat her earlier chokehold. Though blocked by his massive arms, each attempt came faster and sharper, a hair’s breadth from success. Cold sweat drenched his back as dread mounted.

The crowd grew restless.
“King Kong, what are you waiting for? Use your real skills!”

Some gamblers cursed furiously.
“Damn it! I bet three months’ wages on you! King Kong, hurry up or I’m ruined!”

King Kong groaned inside. She’s not playing into my strategy, and she shows no sign of tiring—how the hell do I attack her?

The instant his focus slipped, Jinyu struck again. She latched onto the joint where arm met torso—
Crack!

Both arms went limp, sparks spitting blue as the broken servos hissed. He tried to clamp his arms together to trap her, but she slipped free, sprinted forward, and when he moved to block his head, she slid under his legs, kicked both knees—

Thud!

He dropped to the ground on both knees.

Quick to react, King Kong planted one arm on the floor to rise, swinging the other at her. But before he registered her movement, a gust hit his face—he dodged his head just in time, her kick missing.

Then she darted beneath him again, this time looping his own cables around both arms—tight. No matter how he strained, the knots wouldn’t budge.

Face flushing with rage, he staggered up, lunging for a headbutt.

Jinyu remained calm. As his skull rushed in, she leapt high, landing on his back, yanking him off-balance.

Smack!

King Kong hit the mat face-first.

Before he could rise, her knee pressed into his spine, arms cinching his throat in a chokehold. His vision swam, face reddening.

He wanted to resist, but the tightening grip pressed bone against his windpipe—one more second, and he’d pass out.

Defeat stung like fire, but death wasn’t worth it. Gasping, he tapped out.

Jinyu released him, his head thudding to the mat. As his eyes darted down, he noticed her shoes—standard janitor’s rubber work shoes, flat soles, no springs, no hidden mechanics.

For a heartbeat, the arena was silent.

Then an eruption—
“Jinyu! Jinyu!”

Xiaobai scampered into the ring like a monkey, lifting Jinyu’s arm and screaming at the top of his lungs:
“I declare—Jinyu versus King Kong—Jinyu wins!”

His final word cracked with excitement, echoing around the stadium. Nobody cared—everyone knew they had just witnessed the rise of a brand-new underground star.

Both fighters bowed. Before leaving, Jinyu untied King Kong’s arms and helped him up. His eyes were glassy, like his soul had left his body.

“King Kong,” Jinyu said quietly, “remember what you promised. On the ring, win or lose—you respect your opponent.”

He looked dazed, unclear if the words sank in.

Xiaobai was giddy with triumph.
“Ding-ge, King Kong’s arms are broken. Please get them fixed!”

Jinyu finally realized she’d torn through his servos. She apologized.
“Sorry. I’ll cover the repair costs.”

Xiaobai waved his hands.
“No need! King Kong signed a contract—repairs are on the boss’s tab.”

Jinyu nodded, ready to leave, when she caught the boss’s stern face. Her stomach dropped—Had she been found out?

But then the man’s face cracked into a sycophantic grin.
“Xiaoyu, who knew you had such skills? Why don’t you fight here officially? You’ll earn far more than cleaning.”

Jinyu hesitated. Before she could speak, Xiaobai shrieked like a rubber chicken.
“Holy sh1t, Jinyu! Say yes! What’s there to think about? Cleaning pays peanuts! One match earns tens of thousands! You love fighting and you get rich doing it—why hesitate?!”

She admitted—this wasn’t like the boxing matches of the 20th century. The cybernetic additions made bouts wild and exhilarating. She had enjoyed herself, and even gained some new insights.

Then a stranger’s voice cut in.
“Not every match will go like this. Are you sure you’ll never lose? Remember, pure human fighters vanished ten years ago. Today’s prosthetics can punch through steel. Are you ready to risk that?”

The reminder cooled Xiaobai’s frenzy too.
“Ding-ge’s right. And there’s another rule—made by the last national champion. Besides the prize money, the winner can claim one thing from the loser. Since most are cyborgs, it usually means taking their prosthetic limbs. If the loser has none, they’re forced to install one, then surrender it.”

Jinyu arched a brow.
“If I became champion, could I make my own rules?”

Both Xiaobai and Ding-ge nodded.
“Of course.”

Jinyu smiled.
“Then I’ll give it a shot. Every tournament I’ve entered since childhood—I’ve always been the champion.”

Her cocky tone stunned the crowd into silence—then the underground arena exploded in a deafening roar.

Xiaobai, staring at her bright-eyed smile, had a hunch about who she really was. He opened his mouth, but Ding-ge beat him to it, voice eager:
“What rule would you set?”

Both of them turned to her expectantly.

Her eyes sparkled as she answered with a grin:
“I haven’t decided yet. But one thing’s certain—this ‘spoils of war’ rule is going away. It’s far too cruel.”