Chapter 166: End of the Preliminary Round (Patreon)

In the old port on the Sea of Japan, a certain legend is passed endlessly from man to man among the sailors—

The man who strangled a ferocious, man-eating great white shark at sea. The man who rescued every last crewman from a sinking ship in the middle of a raging storm. The man who sank an extremist environmental group's ship and took the international terrorist Paul Manson alive.

Every one of those legends was created by one man, 206 cm tall and weighing 165 kilograms.

Known as the Giant of the Sea of Japan, Karo Yoshinari had no interest whatsoever in brawling, fighting, or even martial arts. All he loved was the sea that had raised him, and nothing more.

But Toyo Electric Power had bought up his fishing port, and under the pretext of building a "recreational facility," they planned to shut it down. To protect the port, Karo Yoshinari decided to enter the Kengan Annihilation Tournament.

He was ashamed of it, but Toyo Electric Power had promised that if he threw a single match and lost to the person he was supposed to lose to, they would leave the port alone…

Honestly, Karo Yoshinari had no interest in martial arts, and not the slightest interest in business either. All he loved was the sea that had nurtured him, and that was all.

Even so, when he learned what a fixed match really was, Karo Yoshinari felt a genuine surge of contempt. Since childhood he had heard talk of martial arts, martial virtue, dignity, and honor.

And in the end, that was all it amounted to?

With that thought in his head, Karo Yoshinari came to the Kengan arena. He listened to them boast of winning streaks, of dozens of straight victories, of hundreds of billions in assets seized for their corporations. At first he was a little nervous, but once the fighting began and he felt their fists land on his body… it was nothing.

Compared to the bite of a great white, the ramming of a humpback whale, or the circling of a school of flesh-eating fish… these men's punches were soft and feeble against him.

But why? Why would people who already had incomes, fame, and status that others couldn't even dream of still refuse to leave alone fishermen who simply loved the sea and their port?

He threw his punches with hatred in his heart. Karo Yoshinari had never undergone any systematic training, but the tremendous stamina and superb reflexes forged on the open sea gave him striking power and durability far beyond those of an ordinary fighter.

Plump fat wrapped his tough muscle across that massive frame, like a heavy armored war chariot. No matter how others pounded him, the fat on his body rippled outward like ocean waves, and every seemingly heavy punch lost its force.

That was true until Yang came crashing in like a freight truck.

Although his sea-forged muscle and strength had built a powerful body, Karo Yoshinari was not a true martial artist like Tokita Ohma.

In fact, his own strength was very similar to the fighting style Yang showed now: a pure crushing advantage in physical stats.

Even with reaction speed far beyond the ordinary, which let Karo Yoshinari dodge at astonishing speed and weather other men's attacks, he lacked experience fighting people. Against ordinary opponents, his reflexes could make up for that gap. But against Yang…

He had only lost focus for an instant while fighting someone else. Then a shoulder slammed into the flank of his abdomen, and a viciously tight pain tore through skin, fat, and muscle, straight into the organs and marrow deep inside.

In that moment, Karo Yoshinari felt that the muscle he took such pride in had done nothing at all. The heavy blow made him feel as though his insides had shattered.

Thinking he had been ambushed, and burning with anger and resentment, Karo Yoshinari turned to look at his attacker. But the man's gaze didn't even rest on him. Yang simply kept running and throwing punches, a war chariot flattening every target along its path.

He glared at Yang, resentment still in his chest, waiting for his chance at revenge. But as he watched, slowly, the resentment faded. Something like relief even crept into his eyes.

And now he looked at Yang, who was limbering up with a calm, mad light in his eyes, like a god of slaughter descended to earth. The lingering ache from that collision still hadn't left his abdomen.

Karo Yoshinari understood clearly that those "impure" ones full of "impurities," the people who bought their advancement with fixed matches, had no chance whatsoever of advancing through a fight like this.

Even from a simple exchange of glances, he could feel the hunger for battle and slaughter radiating from the man named Yang.

That unconcealed fervor was like a starving man's craving for a table laden with delicacies. It was like the pride and joy of old fishermen talking about "the biggest fish" they had ever hooked.

What good was advancing by those means? In the end, they would lose anyway, wouldn't they?

And if he had to say why… it was surely a lack of "purity."

Yang, for his part, felt a flood of information about Karo Yoshinari surface in his mind as he looked at him. His eyes were calm as he spoke.

"You don't crave battle. You're not even a martial artist… You shouldn't be here."

Karo Yoshinari said nothing. He simply gazed at Yang in silence, then withdrew his eyes and let them fall on the other men nearby.

It was shameful, but he knew exactly how hard it would be to beat Yang here. The chance of victory was practically nil.

Even now, his abdomen still throbbed with pain.

But… it wasn't time to quit yet.

He didn't want to fight, yet Karo Yoshinari still clenched his fists and turned his eyes to the badly wounded men around him.

It was shameful, but he had a reason he had to reach the main tournament. If he couldn't, the old fishing port would be forcibly torn down.

And to reach the main tournament, he didn't need to defeat this man called Yang. He only needed a little luck, and to be one of the last three standing in the cargo hold.

Now that the curly-haired man, who seemed to be an acquaintance of Yang's, was out of the picture, most of the other fighters had been injured in their collisions with Yang…

"Damn it, pull yourselves together! This bastard has no intention of letting any of us through the preliminaries!"

Glaring at Yang, one fighter with an arm broken in the collision gritted his teeth, his eyes full of rage and bitterness. "He won't hold back anyway, so what are we waiting for? All of us together—"

Before the man could finish, a gust of wind rushed past and a heavy fist dropped him to the floor. Even as he lost consciousness, the resentment and fury aimed at Yang was still stamped on his face. He had clearly never expected a sudden sneak attack.

Karo Yoshinari only pressed his lips together…

He was no martial artist, but as a good man of the sea, he despised sneak attacks from the bottom of his heart.

But right now…

"I have a reason I have to reach the main tournament."

It had all happened so suddenly that by the time the others came to their senses, the fighters who had already been thinned out by Yang's rampage were down by nearly a third, courtesy of Karo Yoshinari.

"Bastard! Do you really think this will get you into the main tournament?!"

"Are you an idiot? If you don't take down the guy in front of you, what's the point of advancing? Do you think you could beat him one-on-one?!"

"That idiot! Damn it, all of you, get him! Take him out first!"

Deaf to the jeers and curses, Karo Yoshinari kept swinging, his expression grim.

With his head lowered, no one could see his face. They only felt that he was far more despicable than anyone had imagined.

"This is really… hard to judge."

Watching the broadcast on the monitor, Imai Cosmo scratched his head with a helpless look.

"I can tell that the guy called Yang is stronger than I expected… But what does he get out of fighting this desperately to reach the main tournament? Frankly, it just seems like a waste of time."

"Maybe."

At Imai Cosmo's words, his boss, Nishihonji Akira, who ran Nishihonji Security Services, stroked his chin.

"But maybe it's more a matter of moral criticism? After all, the ring matches in the main tournament and a free-for-all like this are two completely different situations."

Hearing this, Imai Cosmo nodded in understanding.

He knew what Nishihonji Akira meant.

Put simply, the reason Yang could flatten so many fighters with straightforward charges, like a freight truck, was largely that the chaos of a brawl introduced so many uncertainties.

Apart from the first few fighters who had faced Yang head-on, everyone else was busy with an opponent of their own. Yang had burst through them like a tiger loosed from its cage, striking with lightning speed.

His physique alone was already enough to dominate Kengan Association matches. What's more, he'd had the advantage of surprise.

If they had formed a united front and faced him head-on… well, the course of the fight might have changed, but the result probably wouldn't have.

Anyone who hadn't felt the healing effect would struggle to grasp just how incredible Yang's physical stats really were.

As the strictest father among the technique-type fighters, Yang would tell any talented youth who hoped to make up for a deficit in raw stats with technique exactly why stat monsters never get overthrown by those beneath them.

But clearly, neither Imai Cosmo nor Nishihonji Akira had ever truly fought Yang. They had never faced that fierce will head-on. Watching through the surveillance feed, what they focused on was technique.

"It was a sneak attack, but this skill doesn't look improvised. Look here."

Imai Cosmo pointed to where the fighters had been struck, clicking his tongue in admiration.

"Every charge and every punch comes from a blind spot and lands before the opponent can react… The file says he's the heir to some Ansatsuken (lit. 'Assassination Fist') lineage? I wonder whether that kind of ambush technique will still work in the ring of the main tournament."

"But more than Yang… something seems off about that big old guy."

Looking at Karo Yoshinari on the screen, Imai Cosmo studied him for a moment, then frowned in doubt.

"He doesn't look like the kind of man who'd do anything to win…"

"He really is a man who'll do anything to win."

Watching Karo Yoshinari on the screen, Katahara Metsudo's face was cold.

"That Hayami Katsumasa… it looks like he won't give up on his revenge against you and me."

Hearing Katahara Metsudo's words, and watching Karo Yoshinari on the screen, grim-faced but silently throwing punch after punch, Kure Erioh let out a scornful laugh.

"That old bug Hayami only knows how to play these low, dirty tricks that can't be shown in public."

Karo Yoshinari had no idea what was being said about him on the S.S. Annihilation. He only clenched his trembling fists, cast aside all thought of personal honor and shame, and kept swinging, silently knocking down one opponent after another, men who could barely stand.

With each dull crack of bone against the iron floor, the fighters in the cargo hold, and the spectators on the upper decks as well, voiced their disgust.

"What the hell! This guy calls himself a man of the sea?!"

"So despicable, getting into the main tournament by attacking injured fighters."

"This lowlife took Yang's hits and stayed on his feet? Damn it, Yang, what are you standing around for?! Hurry up and take down this lowlife—"

Before the man could finish, Yang looked up toward the upper deck. It was only a distant glance, but the cold indifference and chill in it were so naked that they scared the rest of the man's words back down his throat.

A moment later, the last fighter who tried to resist went down under a single punch from Karo Yoshinari, and the cargo hold finally fell quiet. Only Karo Yoshinari's heavy, strained breathing and the faint sound of waves slapping against the hull echoed through the cabin.

He stood where he was with his head down and his eyelids lowered, like a statue nailed to the iron floor, letting the earlier curses and contempt dissolve into the air.

Once the headcount was reached, Misasa's voice came over the speakers. "Excellent. The match is over… Hm, only fifteen minutes? That's quite something."

As he spoke, the iron door of the cargo hold swung open again. Misasa leaned against the doorframe, visibly delighted.

"Chairman Katahara's original plan was to let the brawl run until sunrise tomorrow morning… but it seems the gap between fighters is even larger than we expected~"

Hearing Misasa's words, Yang didn't react. He simply kept watching Karo Yoshinari in silence.