Chapter 50: The Insight of the Intelligent Mind

The relaxing beach entertainment was but a fleeting moment.

Early the next morning, Saeko opened her eyes. Her purple hair spread across the bed like a wild blossom in full bloom. Her arms, legs, and waist felt unusually sore and weak. Lazily, she propped herself up, the quilt sliding off her body, which still bore the rosy marks left by rough movements. Before her was a young man, nearly dressed, adjusting his collar in front of the mirror.

"Hey, you're awake?" he said, fiddling with his collar without turning around. "Good timing. If you sleep any longer, you'll miss the opening."

After last night, Saeko, now more alluring than ever, propped her head with one hand, greedily eyeing the neatly dressed young man. With a hint of seduction in her voice, she murmured, "It's still early, isn't it? Why not make the most of our time..." As she spoke, she pulled the quilt aside, revealing her beautiful body in the mirror before him.

The young man, locking eyes with Saeko through the mirror, shook his head as he openly admired her, then turned to leave. "Self-control is a martial artist's basic skill, Saeko. Besides..."

"Before boasting, shouldn't you recall how miserable you were last night?"

With a teasing remark from Shirado Kyou, the sound of the door closing followed.

...

The Kengan Deathmatch Arena was already packed with tens of thousands of spectators that morning. Not just Japan's business tycoons and political celebrities, but also powerful figures and asset magnates from across the globe had gathered to witness the event. The United States, the British Empire, France, Russia, Kislev... Many faces usually seen only on television were now present in the stands, alive and unmistakably real.

Unlike yesterday's playful beach games, today the fighters brimmed with such intense fighting spirit that it threatened to overflow. The fierce determination of the competitors and the bloodthirsty cheers of the audience together created the atmosphere for today's event.

Shirado Kyou, already at the venue, stood in the special seats reserved for the fighters. Familiar competitors exchanged trash talk, while newcomers like Shirado were unanimously ignored.

The schedule for the Kengan tournament was almost inhumane.

On the first day, the opening round; the second day, rest; the third day, the second round; the fourth day, rest; then the quarterfinals, semifinals, and finals, all crammed into the last day.

This meant that after potentially injurious first and second rounds, the fighters would have to battle three times in a single day! For normal people, a single fight would require days of recovery, let alone life-and-death matches between professional fighters.

Yet Shirado Kyou found nothing amiss in this arrangement. As Metou Katagiri had said, the true purpose of this Kengan Deathmatch lay in commerce and assets. The fighters were merely pawns on the board. The ones moving the pieces cared little for the pawns' stamina or survival. What mattered was providing the world's power brokers and magnates with an exhilarating viewing experience.

As Shirado Kyou mused, a stunning woman stepped into the center of the arena—long white hair, bronze skin, a striking figure. From the chatter around him, Shirado gathered she was Katagiri Metou’s daughter, Katagiri Sayaka. It was hard to believe that the emaciated, withered old man had a daughter so youthful and vibrant. Truly, appearances could be deceiving.

Katagiri Sayaka, standing center stage, began the ceremony with a voice both professional and passionately charged. "Thank you all for coming to Wishflow Island."

Her refined upbringing and graceful bearing were perfectly evident—an impeccable lady. But in the next moment, she shattered that impression, revealing her true nature. She raised both hands high, her gaze wild, her voice nearly a scream.

"The moment of excitement is upon us!"

"From this moment, the Kengan Deathmatch elimination begins!"

High-tech projection and stage equipment synchronized with her fervor, shooting flames and fireworks into the air. Tens of thousands roared and screamed, shedding all restraint of elite decorum and noble upbringing. The atmosphere soared to a fever pitch!

And so, the main event—the martial combat—officially commenced.

For most fighters in attendance, observing others outside the ring was crucial for gauging opponents’ strengths, both for current matches and future prospects.

But for Shirado Kyou, the first four matches held little intrigue. With the biological neural processor's keen observation and analytic powers, he could estimate the outcome within minutes of the fighters appearing.

The genius once hailed by Bishamon’s spokesperson, Imai Cosmos, started with a 20% divergence from the processor’s behavioral predictions in the first two minutes. Yet by the end, aside from one move that slipped into his opponent’s mental blind spot, the synchronization reached 97%!

With his vision and brainpower supercharged by the Dragonblood’s inner strength, paired with the neural processor, Shirado achieved results he never would have dreamed possible. And with each new fighter entering the ring, this synergy only grew stronger.

"That fighter from the police, his peak state is just a ‘puppet’? Still, the way he executes commands with almost seamless precision is impressive."

"Raian Wu—his physical prowess is top-tier, even among the exaggerated Wu clan. In terms of potential, perhaps only Garuda compares. Yet, though his skills are drilled into his bones, he suppresses them, preferring to crush foes with sheer violence... Truly a vicious temperament."

"Oh? Uncle Ohma’s ancient martial arts are remarkable! The fusion of traditional and modern techniques, and the deformation of the spine... Disturbing brain memory by compressing nerves?! Is he currently amnesiac? What sort of mystical power is this?"

It was only after observing Ohma Tokita with his extraordinary visual and analytical abilities that Shirado Kyou snapped out of his fascination with the neural processor’s evolving capabilities.

On one hand, martial arts he had never seen or even imagined were displayed before him through Ohma’s body. On the other, he was startled by the appearance of that classic protagonist trope—amnesia.

"This uncle... could he be the main character of this world?"

With a peculiar expression, the young man watched Ohma Tokita, whose feet were bound by the assassin-style Inaba school’s specialized hair technique, flailing wildly across the arena.

As for victory or defeat, Shirado Kyou paid no mind. He had already noticed the abnormality in Ohma’s heart. That technique, trading heart lifespan for power, would not lose to the hair-wielding foe as long as he was ruthless enough.

And Ohma’s determination to seize victory was something Shirado Kyou never doubted.