Boundless Fighting, arena.

Shang Caiwei’s exclamation was like the fuse of gunpowder, igniting the silent crowd.

The watching students looked at Shang Zhengyu lying on the ground and felt a sense of dissonance. You must know that Shang Zhengyu’s dominance in the club was terrifying.

He was extremely combative, often engaging in real fights. Many students had experienced his ruthless strikes. At this moment, the powerful Shang Zhengyu lay on the ground, motionless.

The students didn’t even see clearly what just happened.

Originally prepared to enjoy a good bout, Dong Qingfeng was equally stunned. He looked distantly at Jiang Ning standing on the platform, murmuring in disbelief.

He knew all too well how formidable Shang Zhengyu was, a towering mountain in his training career, yet...

The yoga lady spilled her water bottle, wetting her lush yoga outfit, leaving a wet mark.

Shang Caiwei called out, "Brother, brother!"

A few seconds later, Shang Zhengyu struggled to get up.

Initially, his steps were slightly unsteady, but gradually, he stood firm.

He was standing again.

Coach Du asked with concern, "President Shang, are you okay?"

To be honest, I didn’t quite see clearly that punch by Jiang Ning just now. It felt like a high school student’s single punch taking down President Shang.

The scene was like those he witnessed before, professionals knocking down amateurs with one punch.

In reality, Shang Zhengyu was supposed to have professional-level strength!

After standing up, the intimidation in Shang Zhengyu’s eyes dissipated a lot, but he was even more determined.

Shang Zhengyu took a deep breath, his expression calm, "I’m fine, I was just careless earlier."

The surrounding students defended his dignity, "Brother Shang, you didn’t dodge!"

"Yeah, yeah!"

The atmosphere became lively again.

After all, in the world of boxing, failure is a common occurrence.

However, Shang Zhengyu knew he couldn’t underestimate Jiang Ning anymore. He faced his opponent directly, "Your luck is good."

Jiang Ning glanced at him, Shang Zhengyu was indeed handsome and charming, especially with that aura of success he silently exuded.

Coach Du walked to the arena and announced the start of the second round.

This time, Shang Zhengyu’s fighting style was much more reserved. He started with probing punches before using his best kicks.

Shang Zhengyu launched a straight punch, instantly followed by a front kick.

The students watching felt a painful reminder, having been knocked down by this combo before.

However, Jiang Ning stepped back and easily avoided it.

Coach Du advised from the sidelines, "His footwork is excellent. Press him in position."

Shang Zhengyu didn’t overestimate himself but adopted Coach Du’s approach, since the opponent was of professional level.

Coach Du continuously guided and provided tactical assistance.

Shang Caiwei, an esports player, commented, "The coach has directly entered the field!"

Xue Yuantong, sipping a coke next to her, said, "No worries."

Shang Zhengyu continued with left and right kicks, his style fierce and highly watchable, gradually finding his rhythm.

"Good, just like that!" Coach Du’s voice of guidance was heard.

The murmur of the students outside started, "Cool, his kicks are impenetrable, that kid can’t even throw a punch."

"It really was a coincidence earlier, a sucker punch hit the mark."

"He’ll get beaten in a moment."

Sounds of countless cheers echoed in Shang Zhengyu’s ears, like cheers on his life’s journey.

Shang Zhengyu had learned boxing as a child. In those chaotic times, ordinary thugs dared not provoke him. He got into a prestigious school, graduated, joined a major company, and then decisively led a team to start a business. Their first mobile game was a nationwide hit, generating over a billion in monthly revenue, achieving financial freedom.

With a humble background, he rose against the odds, reaching the peak, overlooking the lower ranks.

’How can you, a high school student, even think of coveting my sister?’

’Who do you think you are?’

Shang Zhengyu swung his left leg out, then followed with a sudden kick to the head.

The nearby students seemed to hear the wind, a result achieved only when leg strength reached a certain level.

They all felt a chill in their hearts.

Jiang Ning didn’t dodge much; he raised his left arm and blocked the head kick.

As fists and feet collided, Shang Zhengyu felt like he was kicking reinforced concrete. He immediately withdrew his leg, feeling a pain like needles pricking.

His cold expression showed slight surprise.

Jiang Ning, his tone flat, said calmly, "Fancy moves."

’Fancy moves?’ Shang Zhengyu didn’t get angry but laughed, ’Enough to kick you!’

Jiang Ning didn’t appreciate the arrogance on his face.

Jiang Ning stepped forward directly, his footsteps skimming the ground, and in the next moment, his right foot suddenly rose from the ground.

Shang Zhengyu heard the "thrum-thrum" sounds in the air, like bowstrings snapping on a battlefield, shaking the soul.

Shang Zhengyu’s vision blurred, his eyes reflecting a series of phantom-like legs. He hurriedly raised his arms, but it was too late.

The leg shadows had arrived.

"Bang!" It fiercely struck his shoulder, the massive impact like a concrete utility pole flipping him over like a ragdoll.

Jiang Ning paused in mid-air, half a second later, slowly retracted his leg.

Standing on the platform, he looked down at Shang Zhengyu on the ground and slowly shook his head, "You’re too weak, you can’t protect anything."

Coach Du’s guidance and the students’ clamor completely ceased.

This kick shattered all doubts.

Dong Qingfeng’s face turned ash gray, his legs weak, and Duan Shigang hurriedly supported him.

Dong Qingfeng had mixed feelings. He always knew Jiang Ning was skilled, but he never imagined he’d be this good.

His intent to learn martial arts dissipated a great deal, "Then what’s the point of me practicing?"

Duan Shigang looked up at that figure on the arena, having somewhat keen judgment. After years of fighting, facing countless strong foes, he deeply understood the saying ’there’s always someone stronger.’

Like the ever-growing mountain from Class 8, gradually becoming immovable.