Chapter 61: Advancing Again and Again

Chapter 61: Advancing Again and Again

I stood in the arena, smiling back at him just the same. Cupping my hands, I said, “My apologies, Senior Brother Huang. Seems I’m holding up your promotion. Tell you what—invisibility against invisibility. Let’s fight an invisible match. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

The Jianghai Gang’s contestant, surnamed Huang, looked a little surprised that I could still smile at a moment like this. “Afraid I’ll crack your invisibility technique, are you?” he said. “Relax, I’m not planning to beat you to death this time. You can keep your five achievement points. I’ve got plenty of matches after this one and need to save my strength. Come on, Referee, can we start already? Hurry it up. I’ll even let you strike first.”

The referee raised his hand, and I turned invisible at once, shielding my consciousness waves.

A stir rippled through the stands—most of the spectators could no longer sense my presence at all.

Huang didn’t spot me right away either.

But the Jianghai Gang disciples ringing the arena started shouting at once, one voice picking up after another from all six directions. Wherever I moved, the disciples in that direction shouted it out. Clearly the Jianghai Gang had some weapon capable of cracking my invisibility.

My guess was an infrared penetrating-wave sensor.

Same-frequency sensing could pick up brainwaves, and once I shielded mine, that channel went dead. But infrared penetrating waves, produced by equipment, really could see through invisibility, since infrared was simply one of the ways the human body shed heat. A person could not help but emit it.

Contestants couldn’t carry equipment into the arena, of course. So the Jianghai Gang must have prepared for this in advance, setting up infrared penetrating-wave equipment off the field and feeding the readings to disciples posted in six directions, who then called out my position for their fighter’s benefit.

The Great Grandmaster of the Ziyun Sect immediately raised his hand in protest, but the referee ignored him. By the rules, what the Jianghai Gang was doing didn’t technically count as a violation. Call those disciples in six directions a cheer squad, and there was nothing anyone could say against it.

Even so, exposed as I was, hitting me wasn’t going to be easy. Sound took time to travel, and a person’s reaction took time too.

I could have kicked Huang off the arena at any moment, the same way I’d kicked Min Long. But I didn’t want to. Beating my opponent too fast would be as good as announcing to everyone that Song Chenfeng’s soul had already changed hands—and then they’d waste no time coming up with ways to deal with me.

Huang and I, as it turned out, were thinking along the same lines: draw the fight out, climb the ranks slowly, and earn more along the way.

Huang swung at me dozens of times without landing a single blow. Sweat soaked his forehead, and his strength was draining fast.

The Great Grandmaster of the Ziyun Sect, who had already given up hope entirely, suddenly found it rekindled. He kept shouting encouragement, urging me to hold on. In his mind, surviving half an hour meant a draw, and a draw was all he’d wanted.

My footwork was clearly faster than Huang’s. He simply could not touch me. Even with the Jianghai Gang disciples shouting directions from every side, I stayed a full second ahead of him.

Near the end of the match, with the half hour almost up, I struck without warning—slipped behind him and slapped him twice across the face.

The slaps did little real damage. The insult, though, was considerable.

Time ran out just then, and the referee declared me the winner on the spot.

Huang only saw my face clearly once the referee lifted my hand in victory. Furious, he lunged forward to hit me, but the referee blocked him—an expert in his own right, and not about to let Huang land a blow.

I cupped my hands and said, mockingly, “Much obliged for your concession, Senior Brother Huang. Don’t forget to wire me the…