Chapter Seventy-Three: Guo Lang vs. Xiao Hei

Little Black stared coldly at Guo Lang and nodded in acknowledgment. Then he asked, “If I beat you, can I have a match with him?” He pointed at Gong Shaolin.

Guo Lang felt the urge to jump up and smack him on the forehead. If you want to challenge that pretty boy, just say it outright—what’s the point of bringing it up now?

But with so many people around, Guo Lang couldn’t voice his true thoughts. He could only spread his hands and reply, “According to the rules of a duel, that’s not allowed. If you want to fight him, just challenge him directly.”

To his surprise, Little Black considered this quite seriously before shaking his head. “Forget it. I’m not confident about fighting him. If I lose again, it’ll be bad for morale.”

Guo Lang’s face twitched, a dark line appearing on his forehead. What the hell does that mean? Not confident fighting him, but you’re sure you’ll win against me? Kid, you’re awfully cocky! Guo Lang looked at him with a hostile glare. “Are you always this blunt when you speak?”

Little Black’s fierce face split into a sheepish grin as he rubbed his buzzcut. “Yeah, everyone says that.”

Guo Lang’s face darkened further. He had no idea how to deal with someone like this. Was he supposed to lecture him about tact? Tell him, “Don’t be so straightforward, leave a little dignity for everyone?” Yet Guo Lang was curious. With this guy’s personality, his chances of making it back alive from a game mission were lower than winning the lottery. Could he be a Guo Jing type—one of those absurdly lucky ones? Otherwise, how is he still playing second fiddle to someone else after returning as a transcendent player?

“Why do you want to fight me?” Gong Shaolin asked, intrigued by the man’s forthrightness.

“Oh…” Little Black kept scratching his head with that guileless grin. “Boss says you’re good at handling things, but you did just smash a bottle over his head, so I want to cripple your hand.”

Everyone: “...”

What kind of joke was this—speaking such brutal words with such an innocent expression? Guo Lang was speechless, but also a little envious of that fat guy. Talk about luck—where did he find a character like this? What a bargain!

“Alright!” Gong Shaolin’s eyes flashed with a cold light. “If you beat him, I’ll fight you.”

Little Black’s eyes lit up. “Deal!”

Standing between them, Guo Lang’s face was as dark as the bottom of a pot. Hey, you two—what’s your deal? Are you just going to pretend the protagonist doesn’t exist?

“Then let’s start!” Little Black was raring to go.

“Fine, let’s begin!” Guo Lang replied with a wicked grin.

“Little Black, no using your eyes!” Suddenly, another big man, who had been silent until now, called out from the distance. Little Black’s stern expression softened instantly into his trademark goofy smile. “Okay, big brother!”

“Big brother?” Guo Lang, Gong Shaolin, and even Xie Lin, who was standing nearby, all glanced at the other big man, a flash of realization crossing their minds.

“Here I come!” Little Black called out, his body lowering slightly, arms dangling so low they almost touched the ground. Only then did Guo Lang notice just how long this guy’s arms were—without even trying, they hung past his knees. He paused, mulling over their builds. Judging by their physiques, the odds were high they were followers of the Beast Tribe’s Lord of War or the Chaos Clan’s Lord of Destruction. And those arms… Could it be…?

Bang! Little Black pushed off with his feet and, in a blur, appeared in front of Guo Lang. Even without using his special eyes, his speed was astonishing, leaving everyone wide-eyed. Gong Shaolin and Xie Lin both shrank their pupils, inwardly exclaiming, “So fast!”

Guo Lang, under direct attack, allowed a faint smile to curve his lips. “As expected—a member of the Ancient Ape Clan?”

The Beast Tribe was unlike other races. Though their technological advancement was impressive, their civilization still operated under an ancient clan and tribal system. Their main combat strength was divided among several clans: the Thunderfire Clan, masters of elemental shamans; the Frostwolf Clan, ancient hunters of the Beast King line; the Troll Clan, representing witch doctors; and the Fireblade Clan, inheritors of the legendary Sword Saint tradition.

The Ancient Ape Clan was one of the few agility-based representatives among the Beast Tribe. While the tribe revered strength, it didn’t mean all their professions relied solely on brute force. The enigmatic witch doctors and the technique-obsessed Sword Saints were both exceptions. The Beast Tribe also had agility-based classes, the most famous being the Ancient Demon Clan’s Divine Warrior, with evil god bloodlines, and the Ancient Ape Clan’s Wind Ape Warrior.

While everyone else was dazzled by that burst of speed, Guo Lang tracked it with perfect clarity. Although his own stats favored mental power, as a member of the Night Clan, his agility was extremely high. At the same level, trying to outpace him was laughable.

Facing Little Black’s fierce attack, Guo Lang’s expression didn’t change. He sidestepped with a nimble snake step, skillfully slipping behind his opponent. His fingers formed a needle and jabbed straight at Little Black’s Conception Point. Though this point is below the navel on the front of the body, for people like them, as long as he gauged the location correctly, he could strike from behind and achieve the desired effect.

That footwork! Xie Lin, a magic user, couldn’t fully appreciate it, but Gong Shaolin was quietly impressed—Guo Lang’s movement was exquisite and proved invaluable in actual combat.

But the strike didn’t land. Little Black steadied himself almost instantly after Guo Lang dodged, forcibly halting his momentum and displaying his high agility. Then, twisting his body at a bizarre angle, he dodged the acupuncture strike and coiled around Guo Lang, locking him up like a snake.

Damn! The crowd stared in shock. Seeing a hulking man nearly two meters tall wrap around a short guy like Guo Lang—who stood barely one seventy—like a serpent was just surreal.

That flexibility… Even world-class yoga masters would be envious. It was downright freaky! Even Xie Lin shivered at the sight, goosebumps rising at the big man’s contortions.

Grappling skills? Guo Lang frowned. These close-combat techniques often left beginners helpless; if you got caught, even doubling your opponent’s strength might not let you break free. Once your joints were locked, you couldn’t even muster the muscle to defend yourself.

But that was for beginners. Guo Lang sneered, “Shock!”

The Shock Technique was a counter developed by high-agility characters to deal with grapples. It demanded extreme agility and body control—every muscle needed to vibrate in unison, generating a pinpoint force outward. Central Asian martial arts emphasized explosive power in tight spaces, but the Shock Technique was even more demanding, requiring one to deliver force in the tiniest of spaces to injure an opponent. Without specialized training, no amount of agility would be enough.

With a thunderous shout, Guo Lang’s body shook violently. Little Black, who had him in a lock, jerked as if electrocuted and was thrown off in an instant.

Damn! The crowd was blinded again. What was that? A burst move? Is this a fighting game? Are you guys just showing off?

Little Black lost his balance mid-air. Guo Lang was not about to waste this opportunity—he darted forward like lightning, caught up in mid-air, and wrapped himself around Little Black in the same eerie, snake-like fashion, locking up his joints.

Little Black, along with the big man and Gong Shaolin and Xie Lin—who could clearly follow the action—all had their eyes pop wide open. That move… It was identical to Little Black’s!

Is he also from the Ancient Ape Clan? The big man mused, but Guo Lang’s build was too different. The Beast Tribe’s bloodlines increased size dramatically—Little Black had once been a skinny guy barely over one sixty, but after the bloodline injection, he shot up to nearly two meters. This guy’s body was slim and didn’t look like a beastkin at all.

Then how could he imitate Little Black’s moves so perfectly?

Bang! In mid-air, Guo Lang used what could only be called a “hug-and-slam”—well, more like a “man-hug-and-slam”—and smashed Little Black to the ground. Even without activating their bloodlines, their raw strength cracked the ground in a radius of several meters. The crowd could only stare, dumbfounded.

Chen Kaimin, watching this, rubbed the back of his neck, which seemed to ache in sympathy.

That kind of throw—their heads should have popped off, right?

Little Black, his joints still locked and unable to use his muscles to protect himself, was thrown so hard he was dizzy. When he finally got up, he was still swaying, rubbing his neck with an audible cracking of joints that sent chills down everyone’s spines.

“Good, let’s go again!” Little Black announced excitedly.

The crowd looked on in disbelief. What a beast—he’s fine after all that?

“You lost, Little Black. Step down,” the big man ordered sternly from afar. Little Black instantly drooped, muttering weakly, “Okay.”

“Don’t be discouraged. This brother here actually went easy on you. If he’d gone all out, you’d be dead,” the big man chastised him as if scolding a younger sibling. Then, turning back to Guo Lang, his expression grew solemn. “You’re very strong.”

Finally feeling acknowledged, Guo Lang flashed what he thought was a modest smile. “Just average.” But to everyone else, that grin looked awfully smug.

Behind him, Gong Shaolin and Xie Lin wore different expressions. Gong Shaolin smiled, but a hint of wariness flashed in his eyes. This guy was indeed powerful—Little Black was no pushover, yet he hadn’t even managed to test Guo Lang’s true strength. Maybe he could even match that monster from the capital.

As for Xie Lin, he looked at Guo Lang with increasing approval. This guy really hadn’t let him down…