On the second floor of the fight club, the noise was deafening. Moments ago, everyone still thought Wang Baole was nothing more than a chubby troublemaker who only knew three "moves": finger-twisting, wrist-locking, and kicking people in the crotch.
Every one of his techniques made people wince and shudder; many even hated him for it. The infamous groin kick in particular—just the thought made people's scalps tingle in sympathetic pain.
To them, twisting fingers and wrenching wrists were the tricks of street thugs, not proper martial artists. And kicking below the belt? That was even worse—utterly disgraceful, beneath any shred of dignity.
And this man had the nerve to stand on the ring and taunt everyone.
So, encouraged by the unfortunate challengers who had personally experienced his "techniques," a wave of contempt had swept through the club. In everyone's mind, the Fat Rabbit was nothing but a shameless cheat.
But then… he used those very "shameless" moves to defeat a Meridian-Reinforcement expert.
All those preconceptions collapsed instantly. The more they had despised him before, the more shocked they were now.
"He… he really defeated a Meridian Reinforcer!"
"My god… those dirty tricks—finger twists, wrist locks, groin kicks—how can they explode with that kind of power?!"
"No ordinary person can pull that off. That fat guy must've spent years honing those moves!"
Gasps filled the hall. The people who often frequented this club were all enthusiasts of ancient martial arts. Principles were flexible for them—if something worked, they'd consider it.
And the fight had undeniably proven one thing: Wang Baole's techniques worked. Effective techniques are respected techniques.
Suddenly, countless people on the second floor began replaying his moves in their minds. Many even spent spirit stones to dig up recordings of his previous battles—hundreds of them—and began studying them. With so many spectators and Zhou Lu's influence, the "Fat Rabbit's" name spread through the club like wildfire.
Meanwhile, Wang Baole had already returned to Ethereal Dao College. After a full day of practice, he felt he had finally grasped the essence of the groin kick. So he lay down and once again entered the dream realm to train with the Grand Sparring Partner.
Days passed. Though his dream-self still screamed often, the screams gradually decreased. Outside, with the Fat Rabbit's reputation spreading, rumors began to ferment.
His name was no longer confined to the club. Even people outside began hearing about him. Students from the Dao College who had witnessed his matches were also deeply shaken, and many began studying his techniques.
Soon… videos of Wang Baole's fights began appearing throughout Ethereal City—both on the Dao College intranet and on the Federation's main spirit-net.
Every video went from unnoticed to viral in an instant. Everyone who watched felt chills run down their spine—especially those who had once challenged him. When they rewatched the footage, the memories of their humiliation burned vividly; many studied even more seriously.
Within a short time, the videos spread everywhere. People traced the origins of his moves and discovered old grappling manuals—ancient martial arts techniques. In truth, these were the original forms. Wang Baole's version had clearly been modified and enhanced by his innate devouring seed, giving birth to a unique, terrifying grappling style.
Once something has a "proper lineage," people suddenly look at it differently.
To the public now, these weren't shameless street tricks at all—they were legitimate combat techniques.
"This—THIS—is real combat!"
"Exactly! A thousand years ago, martial arts were just performance. But in today's world, combat decides life and death!"
"In a real fight, who cares about etiquette? You think the enemy will spare you because you didn't twist his fingers or kick him where it hurts?"
Such discussions grew louder and more numerous. Some even formed fan groups online, openly supporting Wang Baole's fighting style.
Soon, the legend of the Fat Rabbit spread throughout Ethereal City.
More and more people began learning grappling. At the club, finger-twisting, wrist-locking, and "those other moves" became the new trend. Though many still found it distasteful, the tide continued to rise.
It rose so high that the club eventually had to announce a rule: groin kicks were banned.
Ironically, the ban only validated grappling arts further. And so finger-twists and wrist-locks became even more popular.
The moves actually worked, too. Even without Wang Baole's devouring seed, the grappling techniques were still vicious and effective.
Even in the Dao College, the trend spread—especially among the Battle Department students. The notorious "Call Me Daddy" boy was training obsessively in a practice chamber, replaying videos while drilling grappling techniques with feral determination.
"I'll figure out who you really are! And when I do, I, Lu Zihao, swear—I'll make YOU call me Daddy!"
While he trained with near-mad fervor, in a luxurious room within the club, Zhou Lu watched the same videos, cold-eyed.
Her room overlooked half the city, shrouded in drifting clouds like an immortal realm. Everything inside was expensive, refined, and arranged with taste.
Zhou Lu, dressed casually, stared daggers at the projection in front of her. Losing to a Body-Sealing-stage opponent was humiliation enough—but being kicked in the butt?
For someone as proud as her, it was intolerable.
So she studied the footage again and again—not to learn the moves, but to devise ways to counter them.
But the more she watched, the harder it became to restrain her fury. Her fists clenched white-knuckled.
Right then, her father—the president of Ethereal City's Free Combat Club—walked in. Seeing his storm-faced daughter, he sighed helplessly.
"Lulu, why such a big temper?"He looked like he was in his forties, upright and sharp-eyed. Though strands of white touched his hair, his cultivation had long surpassed ordinary martial artists—he had soared beyond the mortal realm.
"Dad, are you telling me or not—who the hell is that fat bastard?"This wasn't the first time she'd demanded an answer.
"Don't be ridiculous, Lulu. A customer's privacy is the foundation of the club. That rule cannot be broken. You're about to report to the military—stop throwing tantrums."He tried to comfort her a few more times. When she still glared murderously, he could only shake his head and leave to handle other matters.
Left alone, Zhou Lu seethed. Staring at the video, she finally ground her teeth and hissed:
"Fatty… I'll find out who you are!"
She wasn't the only one. Throughout Ethereal City, many people—victims of Wang Baole's "care"—swore similar vows. The cumulative effect wasn't a curse, but it did make Wang Baole sneeze several times over the following days.
"Someone must be thinking about me again…"Inside his Dao College cave residence, Wang Baole munched on snacks, let out a sneeze, and quickly drank a bottle of Ice Spirit Water to soothe himself.
"Can't be too high-profile… I'm going to be the Federation President someday. Besides my political reputation, other kinds of fame don't matter."He nodded seriously, feeling his decision to always wear a mask had been extremely wise.
Finishing his snacks happily, he patted his belly, took a deep breath, and entered the dream realm once more to spar with the Grand Companion.
Time flowed. Wang Baole's grappling grew sharper, more refined. His clashes with the Grand Sparring Partner became increasingly intense.
His combat instincts blossomed rapidly. Soon, even groin kicks could no longer hit him. And once he stopped being hit… he began counterattacking.
Unfortunately, this triggered yet another nightmare.
The Grand Sparring Partner's entire style evolved—expanding from wrist-locks to shoulder locks, neck cranks, knee wrenches… seemingly every joint in the human body became a potential target.
Every joint-breaking technique imaginable was unleashed upon Wang Baole, and his miserable screams echoed through the dream realm once again.
He considered returning to the club for real-world practice, but remembering he had offended the club owner's daughter, he could only grit his teeth and endure.
Fortunately, his foundations were now solid, and the Grand Sparring Partner's changes weren't insurmountable. Through wave after wave of joint-tearing agony, Wang Baole gradually became more adept—more fluid—more deadly.
Two months later, when he finally overcame the Grand Sparring Partner…
Wang Baole walked out of the dream realm. Gazing at the blue sky and drifting clouds outside his cave residence, his heart surged with exhilaration.
"At last… I've mastered it!!"