Chapter 11: The Essence of a Hero
At the first touch, Du Gu Bieli felt a sharp pain in both arms, swiftly spreading through every part of his body, leaving not a single corner untouched. The nerves within him curled and twisted as if shocked to the core, and a numbness crept in. His strength was like a lone boat adrift in a stormy sea—fragile, helpless, utterly lost amid the endless waves.
With a crash, his bent knee was forced downward, slamming hard onto the stone platform, forcing him into a humiliating one-legged kneel. His back arched deeply, tightly, like a shrimp dying on dry land, deprived of water. His muscles and bones buzzed and rubbed against each other, nearly dislocating, threatening to send his body scattering apart. Blood seeped from the slit between his clenched lips.
His face was ashen, breath ragged, sweat pouring down like rain, as if he had barely survived a grave illness.
Yet he endured.
The will to fight still burned within him—intense, unyielding. In his chest, the fire blazed, never surrendering, ever forging ahead. Deep in his soul, the belief in never giving up surged and leapt, shouting, waiting…
“How exhilarating! Again!” The Tiger, swept up in the frenzy of the fight, lost himself in wild excitement. Every spring of power within him resonated, unleashing surging tides of strength. His blood boiled, overflowing his frame, forming a shroud of blood-red mist.
He roared—the sound wild and beastly. His body shuddered; the blood mist burst apart, then surged back into his flesh, triggering a transformation so strange it was impossible to tell what was real. The Tiger vanished, replaced by a magnificent striped tiger that leapt forward, jaws wide, a fetid wind blasting forth.
Tiger Fist!
With a fierce, triumphant roar, the tiger bounded forth, great claws sweeping down. The aura was savage, wild—a king among beasts, unmatched beneath the heavens. This “fist” struck with the force of falling stars, shattering sky and earth, rupturing the very fabric of the cosmos, chaos swirling in its wake.
Thunder rolled—where the fist passed, the void exploded with peals of sound, as if thunder itself had descended from the nine heavens to destroy the world.
“Ah—!” Some Commanders, witnessing this uncanny sight, cried out in disbelief. “Impossible! He’s a Commander!”
To marshal one’s strength so perfectly, to achieve such unity in body and mind, and to wield a fist technique that triggered such phenomena—these were signs seen only among those who had reached the rank of Warrior. And yet, here was a Commander displaying the marks of one who had found his own “Way.”
The Tiger was indeed a Commander—not of demonic blood, but a master of the fist whose energy, spirit, and essence had reached their zenith, creating this powerful illusion. Such an attack was beyond the reach of most Commanders, attainable only in moments of life and death, when one’s full potential erupted in a single, brilliant strike.
“The Arena is shameless, faking the match by disguising a Commander as a Warrior to sabotage another’s ten-round challenge—intolerable! We must demand justice from the Arena, spread the word, and see that all unite against this injustice!” The Commanders, though angered, were not concerned for Du Gu Bieli’s sake, but for fear that they themselves might fall victim to such treachery in the future. In their eyes, pity and regret mingled as they looked to the stage. “A rare talent, cut down so callously—what a waste. But it’s his own misfortune, after all…”
In the vastness of the Primordial Wilderness, with its countless inhabitants and endless supply of geniuses, a few dying each day was hardly worth notice.
A sharp, sudden sound—like a blade slicing through flesh—echoed through the air, brief yet powerful.
With that, Du Gu Bieli was hammered into the platform like a nail, only half his head and the faint outline of his forearms visible. Yet even now, his fists remained clenched, unyielding.
Life endures, battle continues. Even at the edge of death, with doom looming, he would not give up. With these fists, he would shatter the heavens, smash the earth, create a new world, and carve a path to a brighter future!
Persistence, fearlessness, and the will never to surrender.
This was the very essence of the Warrior.
Every Warrior, after opening all the springs of power within themselves, must face the test of life and death, to forge and comprehend their own truth as a Warrior. The depth of that insight would determine the length of their path ahead.
Those two fists, as the dust began to settle, grew ever clearer, like a banner raised high. They spoke a silent language, declaring: I fear nothing. I remain steadfast. I will never give up!
A sigh escaped suddenly from the mouth of the striped tiger. Energy receded, the technique ceased. Its form shrank swiftly, returning to the Tiger’s true appearance. His face was full of regret, remorse, and sorrow. “It’s my fault. I got too excited, lost control, went all out. A rare talent, discovered with such difficulty, and I’ve killed him outright. Now that my Tiger Fist has been revealed, my rank exposed, word will surely spread. If someone uses this against me, it’ll be trouble…”
“The tenth round of the ten-round challenge is over. The challenger has failed…” The mood in the Arena was stiflingly oppressive, so silent you could hear a pin drop. The supervisor, keenly aware of the crisis, hastily announced the result, eager to erase the incident’s impact.
Below the stage, the village elder and the villagers, standing afar, were in tears. “Our guardian has finally fallen victim to a cursed reputation… Our village, with its thousand souls, is finished—our last hope of survival gone…”
Crack!
Just then, a sudden change erupted!
From within the arena came the clear, crisp sound of something breaking. Faint, but unmistakable.
“The Tiger is ruthless—his punch not only killed the man, but even smashed his body to pieces,” one Commander sighed, unable to bear the sight. Death was one thing, but even the corpse was denied peace—a truly harrowing end.
“No, it’s not the corpse breaking!” cried another sharp-eyed Commander. “Look! Look! He’s still moving—he’s alive!”
“What?” All eyes locked onto the stage, onto those fists. In their hearts and minds, an intense longing, a fervent hope burst forth.
“He must live!”
“Get up—break free! You can do it!”
“We believe in you…”
Their emotions fed off each other, their thoughts turning into a chorus of voices, nearly roaring, echoing through the entire Arena, finally merging into a single, unified shout.
Break free! You are the Invincible Warrior—no obstacle can stand in your way!
Warrior—invincible!
Crack!
This time, the crisp sound was plain for all to hear—the earlier sound had not been an illusion.
He—the forty-fourth Warrior, Du Gu—was alive!
Soldiers, Warriors, Commanders, and even the Commanders themselves—hundreds of fists clenched unconsciously, veins bulging beneath the skin, breaths quickening in their throats. Even the Tiger joined in, shouting with the crowd, joy on his face. The elder and the villagers wept and embraced, overcome with emotion.
He moved!
Those two fists, watched by hundreds, slowly and powerfully clenched, then suddenly flung open. Accompanied by a roar that seemed to come from ancient times, they slammed down onto the stone platform.
Smack!
The arena shook. A figure shot up like a divine dragon, breaking every shackle, surging into the heavens.
Bang!
Every heart in the crowd was seized by this miraculous sound, fast or slow, but all beating in unison, resounding at the exact same moment!
Long, thick black hair hung loose, hiding Du Gu Bieli’s face, making his expression unreadable. On his nearly naked body, wounds gaped open, blood still seeping from the cracks.
His breath was silent. Half-kneeling, his body remained unmoving—a sculpture eternal as the ages, enduring as time itself.
The Tiger stared at Du Gu Bieli in astonishment, nerves taut, instinctively taking up a defensive stance. He sensed, deep in his opponent’s flesh and blood, a vast power brewing, fermenting, growing ever stronger.
At this moment, he felt danger nibbling at the edges of his spirit and will. If not for having witnessed it himself, he would have doubted this was even the same man.
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