"Sparring with the little dummy isn't helping my grappling at all!"
After having his fingers bent again by the main sparring partner in the dream, Wang Baole staggered out of the illusion, full of grief and indignation. He grabbed a bag of snacks, munched furiously for a moment, then clenched his teeth, chewed as he walked out of his cave, left Ethereal Dao College… and headed straight for Ethereal City.
Right now, what he needed most was real combat.
On one hand, he was on the verge of being tortured insane by the main dummy. On the other, he'd finally realized that while the Taixu Grappling Art was shameless, its combat value was terrifyingly high.
To truly master it—and to stop getting abused in the dream—he had to fight real people. Only then could he speed up his understanding.
So, naturally, his first thought was… the Fight Club.
With that decision, he walked into Ethereal City, went straight toward the club… then paused when he passed a toy shop. He thought for a moment, stepped inside, and when he came back out, his academy robe had changed—and he was holding a… little white rabbit mask.
"I am a specially recruited student of the Dao College. I should keep a low profile."
Wang Baole felt his reasoning was impeccable. He patted the mask in his arms, very satisfied.
Just imagining it on his face made him feel warm inside. He could already see himself: adorable yet domineering, cute but radiating might—the very picture of awe-inspiring power.
Smug and hands clasped behind his back, Wang Baole walked toward the Fight Club.
The Fight Club operated in all seventeen major cities of the Federation. The venue was massive, with multiple arenas providing an open platform for anyone who wanted to brawl. Before the Spirit Origin Era and after, it had always been wildly popular.
Now that the Spirit Origin Era had arrived, with ancient martial arts revived and everyone stepping onto the cultivation path, open combat had become the Federation's favorite pastime.
The club attracted plenty of real experts, too, and strange, powerful martial arts were constantly appearing.
No matter which main city you went to, no matter what time of day, if there was a Fight Club, then that spot was always among the liveliest in the whole city.
Ethereal City was no exception.
Right now, when Wang Baole arrived, the huge ellipsoid building ahead of him looked like a gigantic clenched fist from afar, and up close, like some ancient Roman arena. From inside, loud roars and shouts poured out through the openwork roof in waves.
"Come on! One more round!"
"Anyone dare challenge me? Beat me, and you walk away with ten Spirit Stones!"
The wild, excited yelling surged out again and again. Passers-by couldn't help but slow down and look over; now and then, someone's blood would start boiling and they'd stride straight inside.
Feeling the heat of the place, Wang Baole's own blood seemed to speed up. He suddenly felt a nameless thrill and hurried his steps, stepping into the Fight Club.
The moment he crossed the threshold, a wall of sound slammed into him. In front of him was an enormous hall.
It was huge—so big he couldn't see the far wall. What he could see, in the distant center, was a towering crystal sphere, standing a hundred meters tall and glittering like a beacon.
Around that crystal sphere, crowds of people stood shoulder to shoulder: men, women, all kinds of clothing and styles. Some were talking in groups; others were checking data on the crystal.
All around, in every direction, bodies milled and voices merged into a noisy sea. It felt less like a club and more like a bustling marketplace.
Ringed around the edge of the hall, Wang Baole noticed countless doors. Some were closed; some were open. Every open door closed as soon as someone walked in, clearly allowing only one person at a time.
"This place is huge…"
Even though he'd mentally prepared himself outside, Wang Baole still couldn't help but suck in a breath. After a long moment, he squeezed into the crowd, asked around, and finally pieced together how things worked.
The Fight Club had three levels.
The first floor was this hall. The second floor was where the real fighting arenas were. As for the third floor, it was almost never open to the public—only for big, special events.
To get to the second floor, there were two options.
One: use one of the four main stairways around the hall and go up directly, joining the general queue.
Two: rent your own arena. Then you could stand on your own stage and accept challengers, or leave it to go challenge others. The many side doors around the hall were for these private arenas.
The first method was cheaper, but provided no privacy. The second cost more, but offered privacy and safety—it was the VIP route.
Either way, though, you had to register your identity and pay in Spirit Stones at the central crystal sphere.
Anyone else might have picked the cheaper option. But to Wang Baole of the Armament Department—who was used to signing IOUs like they were paper talismans—this was nothing.
"I'm here to practice finger-locks. Spirit Stones? That's just… extra meat on my body."
The more he thought about it, the more unique he felt. He strolled over to the crystal sphere, registered himself, read through the rules, then paid a tidy sum of Spirit Stones to rent a private arena.
Glancing around, he found one open arena door among the many, and walked straight in.
The moment he entered, his arena credentials from the crystal sphere were verified. The door closed behind him, and a soft female voice echoed through the air.
"Honored guest, welcome to the Freefight Club. Please remember to protect your privacy while you are here. If necessary, please cover your face during combat… Whether you wish to go out to fight or return to rest, simply stand in the marked area and call out: 'Battle,' or 'Return.'"
The voice outlined the club rules and key points.
"Very thoughtful. Not bad at all."
Wang Baole nodded in satisfaction and headed in.
Ahead of him was a corridor lit with soft lights, easy on the eyes. At its end was a small chamber with a bed, table, chair, and mirror. Its main purpose was to provide rest, and to give fighters a private room to change clothes, disguise themselves, and so on.
Standing inside the chamber, Wang Baole took a slow, deep breath. For a moment, he felt like a general about to march off to war, and his eyes hardened with resolve.
"Here… will be my first battlefield for finger-locks!"
He slapped his belly, took out the little white rabbit mask, and gently settled it over his face.
His entire "aura" changed.
The cute rabbit mask on top of a round, pudgy body… was honestly a bit ridiculous.
But Wang Baole was very pleased with his look. After admiring himself in the mirror for a while, he walked to the center of the chamber, looked up, and calmly spoke two words.
"Battle."
The instant he spoke, the ceiling above him split open. The floor under his feet rose like a platform, carrying him upward until he emerged… on the second floor of the Fight Club.
The roar up here was even more frenzied than downstairs. A metal-and-glass arena enclosed him, with transparent walls on all sides.
The arena was a hundred meters across. Through the glass, he could see wave after wave of spectators outside, as well as countless other arenas spreading out in every direction—hundreds, maybe thousands of them.
In each ring, fights were in full swing.
Crowds roared, fighters shouted; it all surged together like a heat wave. Most people wore masks or hoods, hiding their faces.
Wang Baole took a deep breath and scanned the surroundings. His heart was pounding. This environment was both unfamiliar and… intoxicating.
Back at the crystal, he'd already read the rules. Renting an arena let you set a Spirit Stone stake and wait for challengers. If someone beat you, they got your Stones. You could also limit the cultivation level of challengers.
If you lost, you had to pay the same stake in return. Of course, you could step out of your own arena and challenge others as well—thus the name: Freefight.
No killing was allowed, and the club took privacy and personal freedom very seriously. Anyone who broke the rules would be dealt with swiftly and brutally by the club itself.
Pressing down his excitement, Wang Baole quickly set up his arena's stake. After thinking for a moment, he decided that to attract attention and get more training in… he might as well go big and set it to ten Spirit Stones.
Then he sat down at the edge of the ring, eager for challengers.
But after one stick of incense, no one had come.
Plenty of people walked past, giving his ring a glance, but no one stepped in. Between the rabbit mask and the ten-Stone stake, too many smelled something off.
Ten Spirit Stones was not a small sum.
"How long is this going to take…"
Growing impatient, Wang Baole looked around, then simply hopped out of his own ring and joined the crowd.
"I should start with something easy…"
He wove through the people and scanned the nearby glass arenas, finally picking one with a one-Stone stake and walking toward it.
Inside the ring was a burly man with a big frame and normal Blood Qi cultivation. He sat cross-legged, eyes sharp, glaring at the onlookers. When he noticed Wang Baole's eager gaze, his lips curled in a cold smile and he crooked a finger in invitation.
"Come on, bunny. Granddaddy here will teach you a lesson."
Wang Baole's eyes went wide. He jumped in without another word.
Because this was a low-level fight, most people didn't care much. Only a handful had stopped because of the big man's physique and Wang Baole's ridiculous rabbit mask.
The moment Wang Baole entered, the big man's eyes lit up. Laughing loudly, he stood—and his "ordinary" cultivation burst upwards, surging straight from Blood Qi… to Body-Sealing!
He charged at Wang Baole with a vicious grin.
The spectators outside gasped. The difference between his "before and after" was way too big.
"I love lowering my aura to lure little rabbits like you up here," the man laughed harshly. "Today I'm going to train you properly!"
As he spoke, his Qi and blood flared. In a few steps he was right in front of Wang Baole, raising a thick palm to slap him across the face.
Before he could finish, Wang Baole's right hand moved almost on instinct. The Devouring Seed inside him spun to life, and he unleashed the grappling technique that had been haunting his nightmares.
The moment the suction spread, the big man's body lurched as if yanked by invisible hands. His palm drifted off course, his steps stumbling.
Wang Baole darted in to grab—but the man reacted fast. With a roar, he twisted his body, stepped with the force, and slipped out of reach.
"He dodged it?"
That ticked Wang Baole off. He surged forward, closing in again. The big man took a sharp breath, realizing something was wrong. He retreated, then roared and hammered out a flurry of punches, trying to force Wang Baole back.
In the blink of an eye, the two were locked in a fierce exchange.
For Wang Baole, this was his first real fight in the true sense. The big man was a perfect training partner. His movements grew faster and smoother; his strikes changed from move to move. It felt like he was undergoing some kind of metamorphosis right there in the ring. His eyes shone brighter and brighter, full of excitement.
The big man, on the other hand, was sweating. He felt like he'd seen a ghost.
He'd already noticed that Wang Baole's combat sense had gone from awkward to deadly in minutes.
He had no choice but to seal all his pores, stopping his Qi and blood from leaking out to gain more speed and strength—and even then, he was still being suppressed by this "rabbit," who was only letting out a Blood Qi aura.
"What the hell—where did this rabbit come from?!"
The more he fought, the more uneasy he felt. Gritting his teeth, he roared and leapt, spreading his right hand wide. His whole body seemed to hinge on that palm as he lunged down toward Wang Baole.
This was the only martial art he'd learned.
"Heaven-and-Earth Hand!"
Around the ring, the spectators' interest had been rising. Now, seeing Heaven-and-Earth Hand appear, many shouted in surprise.
Their exclamations had barely left their mouths when the situation on the stage flipped in an instant.
As the big man's Heaven-and-Earth Hand came crashing down, Wang Baole's eyes flashed. In his mind, he saw the main sparring partner from his dreams. He stepped forward, Devouring Seed surging into his right arm, unleashing a focused suction as he reached out with one hand.
With that grab, the big man's expression changed. His palm was dragged off-line again.
This time, though, he didn't have time to adjust. His fingers were caught in Wang Baole's grip.
And Wang Baole bent.
A scream like a slaughtered pig tore out of the big man as his whole body shook. His legs went weak and nearly folded. He instinctively tried to yank his hand back, but Wang Baole's grip was like iron tongs, bolstered by that invisible suction. No matter how he struggled, he couldn't break free.
It felt like ten thousand alpacas were stampeding through his mind. His voice jumped an octave.
"IT HURTS! IT HURTS—LET GO!!"
"Hahaha! Do you admit defeat or not?"
At that moment, Wang Baole was practically glowing. Looking at the big man in front of him, all he could see was his own miserable self from the last few months in the dream.
This one little finger-lock—this shameless, invincible move—felt so damn good that he instantly fell in love with the grappling art.
Outside the arena, every spectator was staring, dumbstruck.
After a long moment, when the big man finally panted out his surrender, the crowd collectively inhaled.
"That… that was a finger-lock?"
"Heavens… you can fight like that? That's way too shameless!"