pjbooks Chapter 108 Elite? I'll take on the elite!
Chapter 108 Elite? I'll take on the elite!
Chapter 108 Elite? I'll take on the elite!
A few minutes later, a staff member made a gesture towards the outside of the venue.
"The match result is valid; the appeal is rejected."
The referee announced the decision with a blank expression, which made the Indians' faces turn black with anger.
Max then raised two middle fingers: "Get lost, you bunch of clowns. Look how ridiculous you've done. Here's a little suggestion: you shouldn't be working in the fighting industry. You should be comedians. Mr. Bean would only be second to you."
After giving the opposing coaching staff a thorough dressing-down, Max returned to the bench triumphantly.
Then I saw Ma Jieke lying on the ground, doing sit-ups with a heavy sigh.
After finishing, he sprang up from the ground with a somersault, and the [Working Body] skill on the skill panel was just entering its cooldown period.
The stamina bar recovers rapidly at a rate of 10% per second until it is full.
Ma Jie felt a sense of relief, but it only restored his strength and did not heal his abrasions and bruises.
As Jimmy applied an ice pack to him, he exclaimed, "Jack, what kind of superhuman physique do you have? I seriously suspect you've taken Compound V."
"Oh, come on, bro, if you keep talking, I'm going to turn into the Hulk."
"Stop talking nonsense." Max was still using the massage gun to relax his muscles. "Jack, tell me honestly, what other useless tricks do you have up your sleeve? Like the one you used to beat the Korean last time."
"I don't know." Ma Jie shook his head, explaining vaguely, "It depends on who my opponent is. Anyway, my style is to become stronger when facing a strong opponent."
"Alright then." She thought for a moment, looking a little worried, "But I've already received a yellow card, so I can't give you any more advice. You'll have to rely on yourself from now on."
"It's alright, I can handle it." Ma Jie smiled confidently, indicating that everything was under control.
After two matches, I wasn't forced to use my core skill, "Fake Boxer," and my "War Stomp," which can control the opponent for 1 second, is still active.
The reason for playing so conservatively is that the rules announced at the beginning clearly stated that the opponent's strength would gradually increase.
If Donya is a worthy opponent, then fighting Singh Bangis is a completely different level.
You used your ultimate move early, and you still want to win the third game? How is that possible?
At this moment, inside the octagonal cage, a cleaner is carrying a bucket and vigorously scrubbing the bloodstains on the floor.
Kevin, sitting in the commentary booth, seemed lost in thought, sinking into deep self-doubt.
In all his years of commentating on combat sports, this was the first time he had made such a serious mistake.
"Want one?" Quillin handed him a cigarette, which the latter took and lit, his tone sounding like a complaining woman: "Old buddy, did I embarrass myself a little today?"
"No, it was just a minor mistake at most, nothing to be ashamed of."
Seeing that he seemed a bit listless, Quilin chuckled self-deprecatingly: "You think I was right? I just couldn't get a word in edgewise back then. You can only blame our ignorance."
How do you know?
"I just remembered that too," Quilin continued. "A few years ago, I visited a temple in China and saw a monk being beaten with a stick, about this thick, about the size of my forearm. At first, I thought it was a form of corporal punishment, but later I realized that he was practicing a technique called hard qigong."
"Hard Qigong?"
"This is a bit difficult to explain. You can simply understand it as the qi in the body. They control this qi for defense, which greatly enhances their ability to withstand blows."
Old Kevin shook his head incredulously as he listened to the end: "I used to think that Chinesekungfu was just a very successful marketing campaign to boost Jackie Chan's movie box office and their international influence. Now it seems that my thinking was a bit narrow-minded."
Quillin wanted to say a few more words, but old Kevin indicated that he didn't have enough time and said in one breath, "Okay, let's stop chatting here and get back to the topic."
"Next, Abao will face the third challenger, who will also be the last challenger tonight."
"I think this is a test and a challenge for his physical and mental condition."
"So who exactly is this mysterious challenger? Please look at the big screen."
After he finished his introduction, all the lights in the venue dimmed at the same time, and a pre-edited promotional video began to play on the LED screen behind the octagon.
At the beginning, no one entered the frame, but a cherry blossom tree swaying in the wind. The background music sounded both solemn and sad, and I felt like I had heard it somewhere before.
As the music progressed, Ma Jieke felt an urge to bow deeply.
Damn! Now I remember, isn't that the Japanese national anthem, "Kimigayo"?
I heard it at the Olympics before, and it gave me a very sad feeling. I felt it would be very suitable for a funeral.
The audience was speechless. Everyone was having a good time, and then you played some kind of funeral music. How could you spoil the mood?
The scene then shifts to a close-up shot.
A middle-aged man in wooden clogs stood under a cherry blossom tree, launching a side kick. His muscles were bulging all over his body. He wore white pants with a dark red cape, and a red ribbon was tied around his forehead.
"0h!" The audience screamed excitedly after seeing the contestant on the screen. The thunderous cheers and whistles indicated that this was a very popular star contestant.
"Wow." After waiting for about half a minute, and when the scene quieted down a bit, Quilin held the microphone and looked at Old Kevin with a puzzled expression: "Dude, what's going on here? Who is this person who cosplays as Ryu? Does he know the Hadouken or the Spinning Kick? Why is he causing such a big reaction?"
Old Kevin smiled mysteriously and pulled out a card: "It seems that the Old Silver Club has far more loyal fans than I imagined."
"Let me formally introduce you to the great demon king from Japan—Onizuka Kyomaru. He is a disciple of Kitahara Sousuke, the second head of the Shotokan Karate School. His fighting style is based on the concept of a one-hit kill. His career record is 76 wins and 9 losses, with an overall win rate of 88.2%. He has broken the record for the shortest knockout seven times. In his most recent match, it only lasted 1.7 seconds. He can be called the strongest human weapon in the club's history!"
After his partner finished introducing the contestant's resume, Quillin Nelson sat motionless in his chair, looking as if he were dead. The cameraman took the opportunity to zoom in on his face.
"Hey bro, are you still there? Wake, this is a competition venue, you can't AFK here, it's a 50 yuan fine."
Old Kevin cooperated by waving his hand up and down in front of his eyes, but when he still didn't react, he gently poked his face with his finger.
Suddenly, the black guy fell head over heels onto the commentary platform, knocking over the signboard and bottled water along with him, making the entire audience burst into laughter.
Then suddenly it came back to life, jumping up from the ground with a ghostly expression that said, "Who am I? Where am I?"
"Sit down, buddy." Old Kevin crossed his arms and played along for the show. "I'm telling you to sit down and pick up your stuff while you're at it. Your acting is terrible."
"OK." Quillin sat back in his chair and said into the microphone, "I admit, I was really shocked just now. Do you know what an 88.2% win rate means? Even Mike Tyson's career win rate was only 83.3%, and that doesn't even include the one where he bit someone's ear."
"While amateur competitions can't compare to professional ones, frankly speaking, this result is still too exaggerated. Are you sure it wasn't calculated using some special statistical method?"
"Oh buddy, are you about to start slandering the government again?"
Old Kevin knew what he meant by the "unique statistical method." America had a net population inflow for many years, and the birth rate among the lower classes was not low.
Regardless of objective conditions, the mortality rate and natural growth rate calculated by others will always remain within a fixed range.
"That's not what I meant." Quilin shrugged helplessly. "Forget it, there's no point in dwelling on this. The competition is the most important thing."
After saying that, he gestured for Kevin to continue the process.
Meanwhile, on the preparation bench, Max glared angrily at his agent, Sava: "What do you mean? You're arranging such a high-intensity match for Jack? He's only played five matches so far, and you're sending him to face top-tier opponents, especially after he's already played two and his body hasn't fully recovered? Are you out of your mind for money?"
"Oh my god, you're here again. What's your relationship with him? Does he call you 'Mom'?" Sawa argued back, presenting the facts and reasoning: "Last time against Choi Dong-ho, you used the same excuse, which almost caused us to withdraw from the competition and breach our contract, leaving us with a huge debt. Do you want to repeat the same mistake a second time?"
"If that's the case, I don't think you're qualified to be Jack's coach at all, because you don't even have the most basic judgment."
Whoosh! Before he could finish speaking, Max, enraged, grabbed a glass of water and splashed it all over his face.
"Shit! What exactly do you want?"
Sawa rubbed his face, so angry he felt like his lungs were about to explode. If he wasn't afraid of being unable to beat her, he would have already slapped her.
"Hey, hey, don't be impulsive." Seeing this, Jimmy quickly stepped between the two to smooth things over: "We're a team, aren't we? If Jack sees you two arguing here, it will definitely affect his mental state. Calm down, I saw him coming, stop arguing immediately."
Ma Jieke came out of the bathroom, wiping his wet hands with a tissue.
Men, who would wash their hands unless they peed on them?
Noticing something was amiss, and even smelling of gunpowder, they immediately asked, "What's going on?"
"Nothing, nothing." Jimmy quickly pulled him aside to avoid eye contact with the two old men.
Max completely ignored his agent's objections, walked over and sat down next to him, and said without beating around the bush, "Jack, are you sure you can still fight? I feel like your opponent is too strong. You're not on the same level as him. If you can't, don't force yourself. I don't want you to get hurt, really."
Ma Jieke picked up a bottle of coconut water, gulped down two mouthfuls, and asked, "What's his record?"
"76 wins and 9 losses, with an overall winning percentage of 88.2%."
Hearing this, he sneered: "So, you've been defeated by nine people before? What's there to be afraid of? In ten minutes, no, at most five minutes, I'll reduce his number of losses to double digits. As for how much his win rate will drop, I really can't calculate it."
"Jack, if you win, his win rate will become 86.9%, which is 1.3% lower than before," Jimmy casually replied from the side.
Upon hearing Ma Jie's arrogant remarks, Max was completely speechless. Was I really too conservative?