Chapter 183: Catapult Start (Patreon)

Following Katahara Sayaka's announcement, Cammy stepped into the arena. She looked the same as ever, in her blue-striped, high-cut combat suit, yet something about her overall state clashed oddly with the Cammy everyone knew.

The viewing group of Yang's friends, Tokita Ohma and the others, happened to be right beside Yang's entrance tunnel, which gave them a clear view of Cammy's face from that angle.

When Cammy's eyes swept across the stands, many in the crowd instinctively tensed.

A strange chill ran through Yamashita Kazuo's body, and his brain prickled as if stabbed with needles. He swallowed and said in a low voice, "Did something happen to her? Why does she feel so… off?"

"…Her qi is changing." After a brief silence, Tokita Ohma frowned as well.

Kure Raian sat with his arms crossed. He had been in a foul, short-fused mood for some time now.

The main reason was that he'd been sure he'd at least make the top eight, only to run into Kuroki Gensai right out of the gate.

After that he'd spun like a whipped top, and he was out in the Round of 32, his very first fight.

Hear you say~

But now, seeing Cammy, Kure Raian froze for a moment. The irritation slowly drained from his face, and he narrowed his eyes at Cammy, who had reached the center of the ring with violet light flickering in her eyes.

He couldn't say exactly what was different about her. But his instincts told him that her whole body was now filled with some strange, feverish excitement, and it made the back of his neck tighten and his skin go cold.

Meanwhile, as Cammy entered, Gen, in his purple long robe, was watching from behind the one-way glass of the VIP seats. He seemed to sense something, nodded thoughtfully, and said, "I see…"

"Is something wrong?"

Hearing that, Kure Erioh, standing beside him, turned to Old Gen. "Or have you noticed something? Should we halt the match?"

It was clear that Kure Erioh had also noticed something off about Cammy. But having never felt spiritual power for himself, he couldn't tell what exactly had changed in her.

Old Gen only shook his head and said calmly, "It's fine. Let him fight… Hm, for Yang as he is now, this really is a decent touchstone."

A faint smile rose at the corner of Old Gen's mouth. "And if something goes wrong, I'm here."

It had been a very, very long time since he'd last felt it. But that peculiar, inferior, filthy power that relied on outside paths was not something one forgot once one had felt it.

Nor was it something to worry about.

If that fellow had come in person, it might have been a different story. But at this level, it was just right for Yang.

As he thought this, Katahara Sayaka's announcement rang out, and Yang walked out of the opposite tunnel.

He wore the same trench coat, tank top and jeans as before. And this time, a pair of combat boots as well.

Yang looked at Cammy, and he could clearly feel the spiritual power sealed in his right arm stir violently, as if it had sensed something.

He paid it no mind. Instead he carefully studied each of its reactions. From his earlier observations, every time Cammy or Nash tried to boost themselves with spiritual power, the spiritual power in his arm reacted in kind.

Then Katahara Sayaka's voice rang out at the right moment: "Round of Sixteen, first match: Cammy White versus Yang. Begin!"

The instant the words fell, Cammy shot forward. She was so fast that she'd already launched herself in front of Yang before Katahara Sayaka's hand even came down.

Her right leg, wrapped in razor-sharp vital energy, tore through the air like a guillotine blade, sweeping toward the side of Yang's neck with her rounded thigh.

Yang raised an arm to block. Shin met forearm, and the heavy impact sank in. Even with Yang's physique, his entire left arm went numb.

In terms of sheer force, it was hard to believe such an attack came from a girl who weighed 46 kilograms and stood one meter-something tall.

More importantly, a body of 46 kilograms shouldn't have been able to build a physique like Cammy's. Take her thighs alone: they were only slightly behind Chun-Li's, and noticeably fuller than Karura's or Fusui's.

Even as he thought this, Yang pressed his left arm down and swung his right fist to counter. But Cammy used the rebound to flip onto the floor, dropped into a crouch, and shot at Yang again.

She said not a word. Her strikes had grown too fast for the eye to follow. Jabs, hooks, swings. High kicks, spinning kicks, short knees… Every blow sprouted from the air like a thorn, blindingly fast, with vital energy bursting out, and violet trails of light flashed from her fists, elbows, legs and knees from time to time.

Yang said nothing. He simply held both arms in front of his body. As the Golden Flame erupted, his nervous reflexes were pushed to the limit, and veins bulged around his eyes.

His enhanced vision and nerve perception let him forcibly keep pace with the reflexes and attack speed that Cammy's spiritual power had driven to terrifying levels. His arms were like two wooden doors battered by a gale, creaking and cracking under the storm, but they held that storm firmly outside.

Seeing this, Old Gen, not far away, nodded quietly. Whatever else could be said, Yang's defensive fundamentals were excellent.

Then, amid the fierce exchange, a golden arc flashed in Yang's eyes, subtle but unmistakable, and he drove out a punch. At the last moment he turned the fist into an open palm, trying to seize Cammy right in front of him.

A flash of surprise crossed Cammy's eyes, even shock, as if she had never expected Yang to find an opening to counterattack under such a tight, relentless defense.

But then that spark of human surprise was swallowed by a cold, deep violet.

Without a word, Cammy bent her knees and sprang away, shooting backward along the floor like a swallow skimming the water. Having evaded Yang's strike, she crouched again. This time she didn't rush into a hasty burst. After a brief moment of gathering strength, a wave of air wrapped around her whole body, and she blasted forward like a cannonball.

She was so fast that Yang hadn't even withdrawn his palm before she was in front of him again.

Feeling the enormous force bearing down, Yang clearly understood that dodging was no longer possible. He steadied his mind and breathing and sank his center of gravity.

At the moment of impact, a boom rang out. Yang's body was driven back several meters, and his combat boots left two more scorched streaks on the ring.

Although his guard hadn't broken, Yang still let out a long breath.

Ever since awakening the Golden Flame, Yang had rarely felt pressured by another martial artist in terms of raw power. For the vast majority of his peers, calling Yang a complete stat freak, mechanics freak and utter bullshit rolled into one wasn't an exaggeration.

And now…

That was a 46-kilogram body. How was it releasing the impact and explosive power of 80 to 100 kilograms? That last blow was something even a giant like Karo Yoshinari, two meters tall, might not have been able to produce.

So this was spiritual power… M. Bison's spiritual power.

Feeling the restless spiritual power in his arm, Yang narrowed his eyes.

Spiritual power came in strong and weak grades too, and the immense strength Cammy was displaying now clearly came from the power enhancement M. Bison had given her.

As he thought this, Yang's whole aura shifted. His eyes locked onto Cammy, and he slowly crouched down.

In the stands, Kure Raian and the others noticed Yang's strange movement. As if sensing something, they leaned forward slightly and focused their attention on him.

Both of Yang's hands were spread, his five fingers pressed against the rough sandstone paving of the ring. His arms hung vertical to the ground and his shoulders sat slightly forward. His front knee was bent at about ninety degrees, his rear leg folded deeply, and the sole of that foot dug hard into the ground. His hips were raised higher than his shoulders, his weight pitched forward, every muscle taut, his breath held as he stored up power.

What did it look like…?

"It feels…" Yamashita Kazuo pushed up his glasses and said hesitantly, "It feels like I've seen this somewhere. I remember now!"

"It's just like that athlete!" Yamashita Kazuo said.

Tokita Ohma and the others beside him nodded in agreement.

Yes. Yang's posture closely resembled the opening stance Murobuchi Gozo had used when he fought Wakatsuki Takeshi.

But while they were still puzzled, they saw Yang's high-raised backside begin to sink back and down, his body stretching rearward, while his hands didn't shift at all.

Look closely, though, and you'd see that what his hands were doing had changed. They weren't simply pressing down anymore. His fingers had curled into claws and clamped down hard, digging into the stone slab as he kept building power.

"No, that's wrong. This isn't a sprint start." In the stands, Murobuchi Gozo, who had been knocked out in his very first fight in the Round of 32 by Wakatsuki Takeshi, stood at the front, his eyes deadly serious. He stared at the muscle lines on Yang's arms, writhing and crawling like living snakes, and his expression grew graver and graver.

Hearing him, Kure Raian and the others beside him turned curious looks his way.

Murobuchi Gozo came from an athletic family. His father was a hammer thrower and his mother a javelin thrower.

He himself was a prodigy who could stand at ten days old. In middle school he broke multiple track and field records and was called a "child prodigy." Now he was the world champion in the decathlon, hailed as "the fastest man in the world," and he'd dominated the sport for thirty-five years.

Although this wasn't a martial artists' contest, strength in this world had never depended on whether one was a martial artist, but on whether one could carry through the qi and intent in one's own heart.

Those who couldn't, even if they called themselves martial artists, were no good at anything. Those who could, like Karo Yoshinari and Murobuchi Gozo, naturally gained that strength in the process of living out their own hearts…

Or rather, so-called strength, so-called power, was simply a byproduct of living out that qi and intent, that code of righteousness.

That was also the main reason the Modern style had become so widespread.

And for that very reason, martial arts aside, when it came to the Modern style's analysis of how muscles exert force, even Kure Raian wouldn't look down on Murobuchi Gozo. He was a fighter who was an outsider to martial arts, yet had fought in the Kengan Association on pure physical ability.

Feeling everyone's gaze, Murobuchi Gozo didn't pay it much attention. He kept his eyes fixed gravely on Yang not far away and said with a frown:

"Every single muscle fiber of his is exerting force continuously… No, more precisely, he's continuously storing power. He's releasing all the energy each fiber can give, squeezing every last drop out of them to the limit… Can a human's muscles really be squeezed this far?"

By the end, even Murobuchi Gozo, known as "the Immeasurable," wore a look of inexpressible awe.

"This isn't a sprint start anymore… It's more like he's turned his hands into a slingshot and his body into the pellet, preparing to… launch himself?"

Toward the end, even Murobuchi Gozo found it hard to comprehend, hard to believe.

A slingshot unleashes such destructive power because the work done in drawing back the band converts into elastic potential energy. Once released, that energy turns into the pellet's kinetic energy in an instant, giving it enormous initial velocity and penetrating power.

Arms are different. To simulate that with arms, one would have to pull, dig and claw, using the shoulder girdle to drive the arms and elbows and imitate the shock of a released band.

And with his arms angled down to the floor and his fingers clamped onto it, if Yang truly put force into both arms now, the result would never be launching himself. It would be… slamming his head into the ground?

"With this way of exerting force, if he doesn't control it well, smashing his head into the ground is the least of it. His own tendons and joints would give out first," Sekibayashi Jun said in a low voice.

"That's why his qi is constantly repairing and reinforcing the parts that bear the force."

For once, Kure Raian didn't butt in. He just watched Yang, irritated.

Because he realized that Yang was now doing yet another technique he couldn't understand at all, one he'd never even imagined. It made him feel that the gap between himself and Yang was growing wider and wider.

Damn it, how the hell is he so strong…

At the center of the ring, Cammy also sensed some kind of change, and her movements grew noticeably more careful.

From the look of her, she had clearly prepared to hold still and answer motion, ready to dodge to either side.

Yang was still crouching. The muscles under his tank top rose like cliff faces, and steam from his sweat mingled with the heat of the Golden Flame, rising off him and warping the light into a haze.

His eyes were fixed on Cammy, and his pupils seemed to be burning with something.

Just as the audience held their breath, barely daring to breathe at all, his right arm suddenly contracted. Then his whole body was "flung" out, as if sprung by his own muscles drawn taut to the limit, and his forehead drove toward the ground at astonishing speed.

And just as his scalp was about to touch the floor, with no step and no run-up, Yang's legs burst open like a spring compressed to its limit!