Chapter 24: I'll give you one strike!

Yun Jin sat in the fighters’ waiting room, surrounded by nearly a hundred warriors, each radiating an intense presence. The sheer concentration of power in the air felt suffocating. More than half of those present exuded a distinct aura—clear evidence of warriors who had pushed their strength beyond the ordinary. A select few even matched Yun Jin in raw power, and some, he suspected, surpassed him.

A voice called out, directing the combatants.

“Arena 7.”

Yun Jin surveyed the scene. The fighters had been split into ten groups, each labeled from 1 to 8. Every group contained at least ten members, their expressions ranging from stoic calm to barely contained bloodlust.

Despite the waiting room’s spaciousness and the lavish platters of untouched food, the tension remained thick. Only a handful bothered with refreshments; most stood tall, eyes locked on the coming battles.

Yun Jin moved toward Group 7, his assigned arena.

The moment he arrived, a series of hostile stares met him, tinged with unspoken resentment.

“So you’re the one replacing Hagan?” someone sneered, voice dripping with disdain.

Hagan was well-known among them: an outsider who ridiculed the fighters’ circuit as “uncivilized.” Yet he had earned a high rank, which many here resented. Some loathed his arrogance, others still harbored personal grudges they’d never settled.

For them, Hagan’s attitude was an unforgivable insult.

Yet these same fighters were here for myriad reasons—some coerced, some desperate for money, others chasing a dream they simply couldn’t afford to lose.

A broad-shouldered brute stepped forward, his voice dripping with warning.

“You have no idea what you’ve walked into, kid.”

Yun Jin smirked.

“Calling fighting ‘uncivilized’ may have been over the top, but wanting to kill a man just because of his words… Well, it makes me rethink showing you any mercy.”

The atmosphere grew heavier.

They could sense the condescension behind his gaze. Whispers of anger flared, accompanied by clenched fists.

“There’s a strict no-fighting rule in the lobby,” one growled, though his killing intent was obvious. “But once we’re in the ring, I’ll make you beg for your life.”

Yun Jin tilted his head, his smirk deepening.

“Try me.”

Another fighter, built like a living wall and radiating nearly as much mana as Yun Jin, laughed darkly.

“Smart. If I fight you now, we’d both be disqualified. We’d get kicked out instead of dying in the arena. Not a bad deal, right?”

Yun Jin’s eyes gleamed with certainty.

“You’re half right. Only one of us would be forced to leave. And trust me, it’s not going to be me.”

A towering brute with arms like tree trunks grabbed Yun Jin by the collar and yanked him forward, frustration burning in his breath.

“You wanna go? Right here, right now!?”

Yun Jin exhaled softly, the corners of his mouth curling upward in amusement.

“It’s only considered a fight if I strike back. So go ahead—” he said, raising his arms in invitation. “I’ll give you one free shot.”

Veins popped in the brute’s forehead.

“Fine!”

He threw a full-force punch, his knuckles whistling through the air with bone-shattering power.

BANG!

The impact shook the room.

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All eyes turned to witness the result of the devastating blow—only to witness the impossible. The brute’s arm was twisted backward at a grotesque angle.

With a strangled cry of agony, he dropped to his knees, his body trembling in shock.

As for Yun Jin? He stood unharmed.

A stunned silence enveloped the group.

Shaolin Technique: Invincible Virtue.

By tensing his muscles and channeling Qi at the precise moment of impact, Yun Jin had hardened his body to the density of steel. He hadn’t mastered the technique completely—it demanded absolute stillness and exact timing—but its effectiveness was indisputable.

In a real battle, it would be impractical, clashing with his fluid, adaptable fighting style.

But for moments like this?

It was perfect.

Yun Jin lowered his arms, casting a bored glance at the defeated fighter.

“That was your one shot.”

The rest of Group 7 froze, their bravado tainted by a flicker of fear.

Yun Jin crossed his arms, scanning the remaining fighters.

“If any of you want out, now’s the time. The tournament’s rules won’t bend for me, so if you value your life more than whatever brought you here, walk away.”

A tense silence followed. Some fighters exchanged uneasy looks. After a moment, several stepped back, signalling their surrender.

An official promptly took note.

“Anyone who surrenders now is free to leave—but you will be banned from ever entering another tournament hosted by the House.”

A few hesitated but ultimately turned to go. In the end, three fighters remained, resolute despite the fear and despair in their eyes. Yun Jin sensed their turmoil—fear, hesitation, and even contempt, as though they were already resigned to their fate.

Leaning forward, his expression unreadable, he spoke to them via Qi Transmission, ensuring only they heard:

“Leaving is fine. Whatever’s forcing you to stay, I’ll handle it. Go to the alley out back. Find a shadowed corner and call for a woman named Elara. Tell her…”

--

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO DEATH THRONE!”

The announcer’s voice reverberated through the enormous arena, igniting the crowd into a collective roar. In both the open stands and the exclusive VIP lounges, cheers erupted in a thunderous wave.

“Tonight, warriors from across the land step into the ring to fight for honor, glory, and fortune! Only one shall rise—and the rest will DIE—until a single champion claims the Throne!”

As the stadium’s uproar gradually subsided, magical projections flickered overhead, displaying live footage from each of the arenas.

Arena 2: A lanky, wiry man moved like a ghost, each attack slipping past him as though his body contained no bones at all. Whenever his opponent missed, he contorted impossibly, evading effortlessly. Then, with viper-like speed, he latched onto the man’s shoulder. A heartbeat later—CRACK—the shoulder dislocated with a sickening pop, drawing gasps from the audience. Grinning, he shoved his crippled foe away, prompting the referee to halt the match.

Arena 4: A tall, lean woman with sculpted limbs fought like a wild predator, a blur of terrifying speed and power. She darted around her opponent, seeming to appear in multiple places at once. In a flash, she materialized behind him, landing a devastating axe kick that knocked him unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Arena 5: A behemoth of a man stood unmoving, his colossal muscles resembling an unyielding statue.

The arena trembled beneath his weight. His opponent froze for just an instant—and that was enough. With a single casual backhand, the giant sent him flying across the ring. BOOM! The hapless fighter slammed into the arena wall, leaving a spiderweb of cracks behind him.

The crowd roared in a mixture of horror and amazement as the fighter lay motionless. In Death Throne, however, being merely unconscious wasn’t a reprieve; only the referee’s confirmation of death allowed a competitor to exit the arena. If an opponent still breathed, they were thrown back into the fight.

Soon, the projection shifted again, this time focusing on Arena 7, which stood silent—no battling fighters, no struggling combatants.

A ripple of confusion spread through the spectators. The announcer strode into the ring and confronted Yun Jin directly.

“What happened to your opponents?”

Yun Jin took the microphone, his calm voice resonating throughout the stadium.

“I scared them off.”

Disbelieving laughter rippled through the onlookers. Some jeered at his presumed arrogance, while others quietly speculated about who he might be. Even the nobles in the VIP seats leaned forward with sudden interest.

Then Yun Jin’s expression hardened. He lifted the microphone again, his voice echoing powerfully:

“This is my final warning. If you still value your life, leave now.”

Fighters in the neighboring arenas scoffed at what seemed like a blatant challenge. Spectators shook their heads in amusement, entertained by his boldness.

When the other matches concluded, Yun Jin returned to the waiting area. Only seven fighters remained.

He arched an eyebrow at the assembled warriors.

“One of them left?”

A formidable-looking female fighter with a confident smirk replied,

“Arena 1 had the reigning champion. He’s gone to his room.”

She folded her arms and stepped closer, eyeing Yun Jin with an almost playful glint.

“You must be that loudmouth who told everyone to run. I hope you have the fangs to back up your roar.”

She leaned in, her tone bordering on flirtation.

Yun Jin flashed a grin, returning her challenging stare with a lazy smile.

“And I hope you live long enough to find out.”