Chapter Eighty-Eight: Ghost Battle

Under that utterly monstrous grip, Oma’s arms quickly reached their limit of endurance. The brachial arteries, then the ulnar and radial arteries branching from them, burst one after another beneath that crushing force. Blood sprayed almost in a jet from the torn skin. In an instant, both of Oma’s arms lost all feeling. With the restraint around his neck gone, Bai Tangjing turned his head and looked at Oma beside him. The blood splattering from the arms lent the youth’s handsome face a sudden, savage light. He did not release Oma’s ruined arms. Instead, with every muscle in his body surging, he swung Oma straight from behind in a broad arc through the air and smashed him down in front of him.

A thunderous impact exploded across the ground, scattering fine sand and broken stones in all directions. Oma, given no time at all to react, was driven into the earth, leaving a bowl-shaped crater, while spiderweb cracks spread far and wide. “Ugh!” Under the protection of his indestructible conditioning, the tensed defense of his muscles kept Oma from blacking out, but the blow still drew a deep groan of pain from him.

Yet very quickly, Oma abandoned the defensive use of that technique and rolled his head to one side against the ground. “Boom!” The boy, still gripping Oma’s ruined arms, stomped down at his head, punching a fresh pit into the ground where Oma’s skull had just been.

Oma understood what mattered most right now. He had to tear his hands free from Bai Tangjing’s grasp as fast as possible. Otherwise, how was that any different from being dragged around and beaten by someone?

Water Heaven Style: Water Swallow.

The technique that softened the body was applied to his legs. Whipping, forceful kicks lashed out in a messy barrage toward the vulnerable face and eyes, successfully driving back Bai Tangjing’s pursuit.

“In a situation like this... is that guy going to die in the ring?” Even sitting in the stands, Zeyong Yuta, his eyes already clouded with fear, swallowed and asked his friend beside him, Narushima Koga.

“Who cares about that once you’ve stepped into a death match?” Unlike Yuta’s hesitation, Koga showed no fear at the sight of the arena; on the contrary, his excitement only grew more feverish. It seemed that if he had not spent this time under the tutelage of Takemoto Kyuan, broadening his horizons, seeing more of the world, and coming to understand how vast it truly was, he might already have rushed onto the ring without a second thought just to fight to his heart’s content.

Compared with those two who barely qualified as novices, the seats occupied by Saeko, Karura, and Takeomoto Kyuan were much quieter.

“Grandpa Takemoto, how long do you think that Tokita will be able to hold out under Jing’s hands?” The girl, even younger than Yuta and dressed in a schoolgirl uniform, showed no discomfort at the bloody spectacle on the field. Instead, she lounged in her seat, swinging her feet as though she were watching a performance. There was not the slightest doubt in her tone about the victory of the man she loved.

“Mmm—hard to say,” the sturdy old man in kimono muttered, stroking his chin. “If that kid from the Niko Style gives up using the divine descent, then Jing may switch back to a technique-based contest and play with him for a lot longer.”

“And look at the amount of blood coming from Tokita’s wounds,” Saeko added from the side. “That unnaturally heavy bleeding amount—my guess is that this so-called divine descent is some kind of technique that increases blood flow.”

“If he doesn’t shut off the secret art, he won’t even last ten minutes just from bleeding out.”

“So he’s about to come out of the secret-art state?” Karura said thoughtfully.

But Tokita Ohma in the arena showed no intention of moving according to anyone else’s estimate.

The man with the seaweed-like hair had a flash of resolve in his eyes.

Even with the divine descent, this battle was still a one-sided suppression. Facing Bai Tangjing in unrestricted mode, he had already had two of his arms crushed at the very beginning. Up to this point, Tokita Ohma’s techniques had not even been able to pose enough of a threat to the boy.

By comparison, Bai Tangjing’s attacks were swift and savage like a tiger.

Circling those two arms already hanging like tattered rags around Oma, the boy kept pressing in. He tried to seize the ruined limbs, pin Oma in place, and beat him down punch after punch until he lost all ability to move.

And of course, Oma did not want to be dragged around and beaten.

Much less could he afford to give up the boost in physical ability brought by the divine descent.

Even if that meant the gashes in his arms would pour blood like fountains.

Fire Heaven Style: Phantasmal Step.

A Niko Style technique that used visual displacement to evade enemy attacks successfully avoided the Raikshasa Palm Bai Tangjing threw from an angle brought by the shadow-step of Fox Shadow Style: Flash. But the flailing arms like torn cloth still affected the completion of the move, robbing it of its flowing smoothness. And it was precisely that brief stiffness that allowed the boy to seize an opening.

A snap.

Not loud, but very clear: the sound of flesh colliding. It came from the hand that grazed Oma’s shoulder almost in passing as Oma was about to retreat.

With his arms now beyond his control, the swaying of the shoulders was an essential movement for adjusting balance while moving. And once such a movement was interrupted...

Boom!

In nearly the same instant, Oma’s steps lagged by half a beat, and Bai Tangjing once again slammed him to the floor, pressing him down by the chest.

And this time, the hand on his chest did not withdraw; instead, it kept restraining his movement all along.

“It’s over,” the boy said calmly, then raised his fist high.

Before Oma could react, the muscles across his entire body, as taut as twisted steel cables, contracted like elastic bands. Then they released violently, and the fist crashed down like a massive hammer.

Heart-Burst!

His movement restricted, his blood loss terrifyingly heavy, even his heart producing an ear-rattling scrape... The overwhelming strike that Wakatsuki Takeshi could use to collapse a wall would only become even more unreasonable in the hands of Bai Tangjing, who had defeated him.

It seemed like a dead end.

But in that dead end, Oma’s eyes suddenly sharpened.

“Now!”

He had learned Kiryu Setsuna’s Fox Shadow Style, and now he had instantly mastered Niko Style techniques as well. Then there was no way he would overlook Wakatsuki Takeshi’s strongest blow.

“AAAAAAAAH!”

On the arms that had been crushed beyond recognition, the still-intact muscles suddenly exploded with force, forcibly setting the shattered bone fragments and rotten flesh back into their original positions. The compulsory movement of a ruined body’s structure, the tearing sensation from the inside out, caused Tokita Ohma’s eyes to fill with bloodshot veins in an instant. Yet under the agony, a ferocious smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

Diamond Style: Ultimate Bone Embrace!

He forced the remaining muscles to make the ruined arms move.

And that was to take this blow head-on.

Boom!

The Heart-Burst, hailed as the strongest striking technique, crashed into Oma’s face with no restraint at all under Bai Tangjing’s hand.

Yet Oma’s fragile skull did not instantly burst into a heap of pulp.

Instead, both arms snapped upward as if reacting by reflex while still intact.

They formed blade hands and hacked at the youth’s side of the neck.

Niko Style Ultimate Technique: Demonic Chaos!