Chapter Nine

As they stepped into the gymnasium, the cheers from inside were unmistakable. With several thousand people gathered to watch the match, the atmosphere was electric—everyone here was a devoted enthusiast of taekwondo, never missing a competition or a major event in the circle.

The two of them found seats in the stands, but with their view of the arena blocked, they could only follow the match on the large screen at the center of the gymnasium. The competition had reached its fever pitch. On the mat, Xiao Jian was facing off against a member of the Korean national taekwondo team. Both fighters were probing each other, neither willing to make a reckless move.

Yu Xingyue observed the Korean athlete and saw at once that he had the upper hand. The Korean hadn't even broken a sweat, while Xiao Jian was already panting, clearly running circles under his opponent’s control.

Lin Ling frowned. "If Xiao Jian keeps this up, he’s going to lose. What’s wrong with him today?"

Yu Xingyue replied coolly, "No, the Korean will lose this match."

"Why?" Lin Ling was puzzled.

"You don’t understand Xiao Jian, but I do. This is one of his tactics—he pretends to attack while actually assessing his opponent. Even if he doesn’t figure out everything, he always has a plan," Yu Xingyue explained, though Lin Ling still didn’t quite grasp it.

"That’s all too complicated for me," Lin Ling admitted.

Yu Xingyue smiled. "It’s normal not to understand. You don’t know Xiao Jian. Just focus on watching the match."

The perspective shifted to Xiao Jian. He was launching a furious attack, but the Korean was no pushover; he countered with a side kick to Xiao Jian’s chest, then a spinning kick aimed at Xiao Jian’s head.

Xiao Jian’s reflexes were sharp—he blocked both attacks. The Korean was surprised; by his estimation, Xiao Jian shouldn’t have been able to withstand such a barrage, and he’d hoped to end the match quickly. But he had underestimated Xiao Jian, who was not one to yield so easily.

Xiao Jian thought to himself, "This guy already thinks I’m weak. Good. Let’s show him what despair really means."

Xiao Jian took a step back with his right leg. Yu Xingyue recognized the stance—he was about to use the kicking technique he’d learned from his days on the national team, a style Yu Xingyue had invented herself. It was a technique that demanded extraordinary physical prowess; Yu Xingyue had retired after repeated use of her own creation had taken a toll on her body.

"Ha!" Xiao Jian shouted, charging at the Korean. He lifted his right leg, feinting a kick to the head. The Korean, startled, quickly shielded his head, clearly reading Xiao Jian’s supposed intent.

But he was wrong. Xiao Jian’s leg changed direction in a flash, slamming into the Korean’s waist. Then came a second kick, a third, and on it went—twenty kicks in succession, only stopping when Xiao Jian reached his limit.

The Korean competitor was stunned. Under Xiao Jian’s onslaught, he had no way to defend himself. By the time he realized the kicks weren’t aimed at his head, it was already too late. The remaining nineteen kicks landed all over his body, giving him no chance to react. After the flurry, his vision blurred—he saw several Xiao Jians before him.

The audience was left in shock. Xiao Jian’s kicking speed was astonishing; to the crowd, it was as if his legs became a blur, impossible to follow with the naked eye.

When the final kick landed, the Korean athlete collapsed. After the referee counted to ten with no response, medics carried the Korean off the mat—Xiao Jian’s speed had simply been too much.

"I declare the winner: Team Tianyuan!" the referee shouted.

The entire arena erupted in cheers, except for the Korean fans, who were left speechless by defeat and the bewildering speed of Xiao Jian’s kicks.

Lin Ling was dumbfounded. She glanced at Yu Xingyue’s satisfied expression and asked, "Yu, did you know something? How did you know the Korean would lose? Out with it!"

Yu Xingyue was momentarily caught off guard by the question, but it was no great secret. She answered, "Sister, do you remember when I was on the national team?"

"What does that have to do with this match?" Lin Ling was still confused.

Yu Xingyue explained, "Do you recall the kicking technique I invented in my third year? That’s what Xiao Jian just used."

Lin Ling remembered what Yu Xingyue had said earlier. Her own invented technique—could it be...

"You mean the Scattered Quick Kick?!" Lin Ling exclaimed in astonishment.

Yu Xingyue nodded. Lin Ling covered her mouth in shock, speechless that Xiao Jian had mastered Yu Xingyue’s most challenging technique.

The Scattered Quick Kick was a style Yu Xingyue had developed three years into her national team career. It had cost her dearly in training, as mastering it required immense stamina, mental agility, and reflexes. A single mistake could allow even an amateur to break through it.

It was constructed from a few basic kicks, but the key was one’s perception and adaptability. Yu Xingyue had brought glory to the nation for four years straight using this technique.

It was a combination of front kicks, push kicks, side kicks, axe kicks, hook kicks, spinning kicks, back kicks, and reverse spinning kicks. If your kicking speed was fast enough, you could chain these simple moves together into a devastating assault. In the past, opponents would study a fighter's preferred techniques to counter them, but the Scattered Quick Kick was unpredictable, revealing no pattern, which was why the coach gave it its name.

Everyone’s combinations differed based on their strengths. After Yu Xingyue retired, she passed the technique to Xiao Jian, telling him that skills were for everyone, not her alone. Despite many trying to learn it, only Xiao Jian succeeded, thanks to the technique’s strict physical demands.

Yu Xingyue had once unleashed five kicks per second using this method, overwhelming a Singaporean opponent who simply couldn’t fight back—her speed reached 247, what people called "shadowless kicks."

After years of practice, Xiao Jian’s skill was approaching Yu Xingyue’s peak. Those who recognized the technique would forfeit rather than risk such a humiliating defeat.

Aside from Yu Xingyue and Xiao Jian, no one else had mastered it, and the technique had faded into obscurity—until now, when it was revived before thousands of spectators.

Yu Xingyue had once hoped to combine single and double leg chain kicks—a high-level taekwondo maneuver—but retired before she could perfect her new combination.

Xiao Jian had only mastered about thirty percent of the Scattered Quick Kick. Yu Xingyue thought he still had much room for improvement.

Lin Ling applauded. "So it was the Scattered Quick Kick! Xiao Jian’s grasped a bit of it. If I had to take those kicks, I might barely manage."

She wasn’t exaggerating; she’d once endured Yu Xingyue’s Scattered Quick Kick, but back then, Yu’s strength was less, and the kicks felt more like a back massage. Now, if Xiao Jian used it on her, she couldn’t imagine the pain.

"Xiao Jian knows his limits. With his current physical condition, he can’t use the Scattered Quick Kick continuously—doing so would be to his own detriment," Yu Xingyue noted.

Her own technique focused on speed and skill, while Xiao Jian’s relied on power and aggression.

A true Scattered Quick Kick left the opponent feeling as if they’d been pummeled all over, sometimes causing real injury.

"Xiao Jian is off to rest. Next is your Japanese friend, Lin Zimo, isn’t it?" Lin Ling asked.

"Yes, I’m looking forward to Lin Zimo’s performance," Yu Xingyue replied, turning her attention to the big screen as Lin Zimo’s match began.

Both competitors entered the arena. Lin Zimo’s opponent was a friend from Chongqing.

The referee announced, "State your names."

"He Jianhua."

"Lin Youzimo," Lin Zimo replied with her full name.

After bowing, the referee called, "Begin!"

Both fighters started with confidence. He Jianhua launched the first attack; Lin Zimo blocked several simple kicks, quickly finding her rhythm.

A minute passed. With the match capped at three minutes, He Jianhua pressed his attack, but Lin Zimo showed no fear. She was not one to attack first; she preferred to test her opponent’s strength before deciding on a strategy.

While Lin Zimo pondered, He Jianhua nearly landed a kick to her head, but she dodged nimbly, annoyed. Why did they always aim for her head?

"Ha!" With a shout, Lin Zimo switched to offense, aiming a kick at He Jianhua’s waist. He raised his left leg to block her right, deflecting the attack.

The second probing exchange lasted thirty seconds; a minute and a half remained.

Now Lin Zimo stopped holding back. The earlier exchanges had been warm-ups; now, she would unleash her true strength.

"Ha!" With a sweep of her right leg towards He Jianhua’s head, he quickly raised his hands to protect himself. But the head kick was a feint—her real target was his abdomen.

As her right foot touched down, she kicked out at his side. Though He Jianhua’s hands shielded his head, he was caught off guard as Lin Zimo’s foot landed squarely on his abdomen, sending him flying two or three meters. He had no time to react; Lin Zimo gave him no chance to counter.

Watching from the stands, Yu Xingyue broke into a cold sweat. Seeing Lin Zimo send He Jianhua flying, she thought, My goodness, Lin Zimo is so strong! If anyone ever provoked her as a joke, they’d never dare again.

He Jianhua stood up, now taking Lin Zimo’s attacks seriously. With her landing the first scoring kick, if He Jianhua managed to hit any part of Lin Zimo’s body, the match would be tied.

Lin Zimo chose not to attack again. For the remaining minute, as long as she blocked all of He Jianhua’s attacks and avoided being hit, victory would be hers.