“So handsome!”
Zhao Xiaodao felt her soul tremble. She glanced at what everyone else was doing, pulled out her phone, and started recording.
With Lu Zheng’s entrance, the cameramen on both sides instantly snapped to attention and began filming.
Only Lin Wan leaned casually on the twenty-eight-kilogram silver dragon spear, watching Lu Zheng show off with an amused smile, secretly quite jealous.
Lu Zheng reached the centre of the arena, planted his feet in a natural stance, and said nothing. He simply stared ahead, carefully controlling the power in his gaze.
“Uesugi-sama…”
Uesugi Akira raised a hand. His eyes snapped open. He took a deep breath and rose in one fluid motion.
He looked up at Lu Zheng, the corner of his mouth lifted, gave a solemn nod, then lifted his katana with his left hand and began walking toward the centre, each step perfectly timed.
Compared to Lu Zheng’s fish-scale chainmail, Uesugi Akira wore traditional Japanese armour: the bamboo plates replaced with iron, a crescent moon adorning his helmet, but no face mask.
He stopped about five metres from Lu Zheng.
Uesugi Akira was slightly taller. Fresh from his overwhelming victory over Zhang Tiexia, handsome and deadly serious, his presence did not fall short of Lu Zheng’s in the slightest.
“Uesugi-sama!”
“Shin-Kage Ryu!”
Cheers and chants erupted from the Japanese side.
“Uesugi Akira of the Shin-Kage Ryu. Pleased to meet you,” Uesugi Akira said in Chinese.
“Mm.” Lu Zheng nodded, skipping the usual polite reply.
Uesugi Akira’s eyes narrowed. He grinned and spoke in slightly awkward Chinese. “Is all Chinese tradition this rude?”
Lu Zheng replied calmly, “We’re not friends. Should I feed courtesy to the dogs?”
“Boss is savage!”
“Brother Lu is mighty!”
“Hmph!” Uesugi Akira snorted coldly, his gaze sharpening. “I’ll see if you can still talk like that in a moment!”
Clang!
He drew his katana, dropped into a bow stance, and levelled the blade straight at Lu Zheng.
Lu Zheng remained motionless, left hand hanging naturally, right hand gripping the ring-hand sword at his back. He made no defensive posture at all.
…
“Brother Lu might be getting cocky. That guy looks pretty strong.”
“Boss, be careful! These Japanese fight dirty!”
Some on the Chinese side who didn’t know Lu Zheng’s true strength were worried. One quietly asked Zhang Tiexia, “Brother Zhang, isn’t Brother Lu being a bit overconfident?”
Zhang Tiexia gave him a sideways glance and sneered. “Even if he fought with both hands tied, Lu… Brother Lu could kick him to death with his feet!”
He can already control qi at will. Even Sun Lutang was only that good. Crushing some little Japanese guy? Piece of cake.
“What? That strong?”
Even Zhao Wenyu and Du Lin, who had seen Lu Zheng fight before, had been slightly nervous. Hearing the expert opinion from Zhang Tiexia, their worries instantly melted away.
…
Back on the stage.
“Looking down on me? You’re dead!”
Seeing Lu Zheng make no attempt to guard, Uesugi Akira gave a vicious grin. His right heel dug in, and without crossing his feet he shot forward three metres like a drill. The katana thrust straight at Lu Zheng’s chest.
From the moment he launched to the instant the tip was three inches from Lu Zheng’s chest, less than a second had passed.
Clink!
A soft ring of metal. Lu Zheng was already standing behind Uesugi Akira’s left side, slowly withdrawing his long sword from the opponent’s shoulder sleeve.
Everyone could clearly see that Lu Zheng had won the exchange.
“One point,” Lu Zheng said calmly.
“What the hell? I blinked and it was over?”
“I didn’t even see it…”
“What just happened? That fast?”
Of course, some people had caught it, even if the details were blurry.
“Brother Lu drew with his backhand, parried the katana, slipped past the side, and slashed back.”
“Insanely fast, like it was choreographed.”
“Big boss is insane!”
“Brother Lu is unstoppable!”
After one exchange, Uesugi Akira finally understood Lu Zheng’s level. His expression turned grave. He stepped back, blade guarding his body, feet forming a T-stance, sliding slowly without lifting from the ground.
Lu Zheng shook his head. “Useless.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Lu Zheng advanced with his sword.
Uesugi Akira retreated and blocked, but Lu Zheng’s blade slid, the back of the sword looped around, and with absurd ease pushed the katana outward. The tip arrived at Uesugi Akira’s wrist.
Uesugi Akira’s pupils contracted. He hurriedly pulled back, but Lu Zheng pressed the advantage. The edge sliced straight across his chest.
“Two points,” Lu Zheng said lightly.
Uesugi Akira’s eyes turned murderous. “Baka!”
His body swayed left and right, the katana tip shifting unpredictably.
…
“Three points.”
Uesugi Akira: “…”
“Four, five, six… twelve, thirteen, fourteen…”
In just over three minutes, Lu Zheng toyed with him like walking a dog: relaxed, effortless, perfectly in control. The score reached a humiliating 22–0.
Uesugi Akira had gone from calm to angry, angry to forcibly calm, calm to raging, and finally numb. The poised confidence he had started with was long gone.
Now his emotions were probably three parts numb, three parts fury, three parts shame, and one part desperate attempt to stay composed…
His hands trembled slightly on the hilt as he stared fixedly at Lu Zheng’s hands.
…
Off the stage, the Chinese side roared with cheers and applause. The Japanese side was dead silent; even the three cameramen holding steady-cams had stopped moving.
Only the Chinese cameramen kept working diligently, running around for the best angles, capturing every frame of Lu Zheng effortlessly humiliating Uesugi Akira.
…
“Baka! You are insulting me!” Uesugi Akira roared.
Lu Zheng spun the sword in a reverse flourish and said calmly, “You just noticed?”
“Holy shit!”
“Insane!”
“Pure dominance!”
“Style points maxed!”
“You!” Uesugi Akira froze, then snapped, “I am a warrior! I have a warrior’s pride!”
Lu Zheng nodded, glanced at Zhang Tiexia, then back at Uesugi Akira. “Fine. I’ll give you that pride.”
Uesugi Akira’s pupils shrank. A terrible premonition hit him. “Wait! Hold on!”
Lu Zheng stepped forward and brought his sword down like a tiger, ferocious and wild. Suddenly his entire style changed.
Uesugi Akira raised his katana to parry, but the sheer weight and speed turned his face pale with the very first strike.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
He blocked only three blows. His arms went numb. On the fourth, his katana was knocked flying. Lu Zheng’s blade slammed into his chest.
Boom!
Uesugi Akira was sent tumbling like a gourd, rolling straight out of the ring and crashing into his own people.
When the Japanese finally helped him up, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His internals were damaged, probably worse than Zhang Tiexia’s injury.
He could barely stand, only remaining upright because others held him.
Lu Zheng spun the ring-hand sword once, sheathed it smoothly behind his back, and said calmly, “Forget travelling the world. Go home and recover. Rest three years, and you might be able to lift a sword again.”
Uesugi Akira’s eyes bulged. He spat another mouthful of blood and passed out cold.
