Chapter 55: The Island Nation's Traditional Art

Whether Xiao Kaitian was a man of sunshine or not, he himself did not know. He merely adhered to his own code of conduct. When faced with Tetsu Takeda’s invitation, he only shrugged his shoulders.

Tetsu Takeda made a gesture of welcome, and the two of them, one after the other, walked toward a ship moored at the shore.

This vessel was relatively large and looked deserted—clearly prepared by Tetsu Takeda for Xiao Kaitian alone. As they stepped onto the gangway, their feet rang out with metallic clangs. In the sunset, their shadows stretched long across the deck.

Tetsu Takeda walked slowly, each step seeming to require a great effort. He, too, was a martial artist; Xiao Kaitian could tell he was working hard to adjust his state of mind. He might not intend to fight personally, but since he had stepped into the arena himself, he could not afford any missteps. The thought made the corners of Xiao Kaitian’s mouth curl into a faint smile. Whatever else one might say, this man was a worthy opponent.

Their footsteps, one following the other, each striking the deck with a different force, created a staggered yet rhythmic pattern. But the farther they walked, the grimmer Tetsu Takeda’s expression became. Xiao Kaitian’s steps were disrupting his rhythm—he could not believe this was unintentional. A flash of realization crossed his mind: Xiao Kaitian was a martial artist, with instincts and combat intuition far surpassing his own.

“Heh.” Takeda could not help but chuckle and exhale a breath. Their feet landed in turn on the deck, and without looking back, Takeda waved his hand.

With a low, resonant blast, the ship slowly began to move out.

Takeda turned, lifting his head toward the sunset, his face aglow with light. All at once he seemed to grow brighter, even smiling broadly—a rare sight. “Well, how do you like the grave I’ve chosen for you?”

Xiao Kaitian smiled as well. In this dimension, life drew its origin from the sea, and choosing such a resting place was a natural longing of sentient beings—yet, regrettably, it was not for him.

The ship, powered by a hybrid hydrogen engine and equipped with the latest compact controlled nuclear fusion device, was exceptionally fast—no slower than a land vehicle. Soon, the vessel had left the port far behind. All around them stretched the endless blue of the sea, with seagulls occasionally gliding overhead, emitting their crisp cries.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind Tetsu Takeda—someone massive advanced into the sunset.

It was a towering man, nearly two meters tall, weighing over two hundred pounds, clad only in a loincloth—a practitioner of the island nation’s traditional sport: sumo.

With a combat power of 179, augmented by his size and explosive strength, his actual power was even greater than that number suggested. Compared to him, Xiao Kaitian looked like a mere child.

“Shiro Seiryu,” Takeda introduced with a smile, “a martial artist at the initial stage of the Profound Realm. Though he’s long since left the sumo world, he holds the title of Peerless Yokozuna. What do you think?”

“Not much,” Xiao Kaitian replied with childish petulance, sticking out his lower lip. “He’s too fat. Doesn’t feel good to hit.”

Takeda gave a careless snort, but Shiro Seiryu’s face tightened in anger. Back in the sumo world, he had held the Yokozuna title for many years. After stepping into martial arts and leaving sumo, he earned the title of Peerless Yokozuna—a recognition of his prowess by the entire field. How could he tolerate such insolence from a snot-nosed brat?

“Die!” He twisted his palms and charged at Xiao Kaitian. His massive body swayed from side to side, each step making the entire ship rock as if it might capsize.

Xiao Kaitian withdrew his hands from his pockets and clenched his fists.

Shiro Seiryu’s attack was without reservation—his attitude toward enemies was always the same: kill with a single blow.

Standing before Xiao Kaitian, his body easily two or three times larger, he suddenly halted and brought his palms together in a signature move—“Clasped Palms.”

With a sharp crack, the air exploded with a vortex of force—but Xiao Kaitian had already vanished from his spot. In that instant, he appeared at Shiro Seiryu’s flank, exploiting the brief gap to land an elbow strike against his right cheek.

Their bodies intersected, but Shiro Seiryu did not go flying as expected; he only staggered back two steps before steadying himself.

“Interesting!” he roared, the flesh on his body quivering. “Great Palm Print!” In a flash, dozens of palm shadows appeared before him.

This was Shiro Seiryu’s true strength—possessing inhuman defenses, he had no need to guard. All he needed was to pour every ounce of power into his attack. The martial artists who had fallen under his barrage would be enough to fill this ship.

Yet Xiao Kaitian moved with effortless grace, gliding among the palm shadows like a dragon in the sea. He darted in close and landed a heavy punch right into Shiro Seiryu’s massive belly.

With a resounding thud, like blunt objects colliding, the sound echoed across the deck. Both men froze in place.

Xiao Kaitian’s right fist sank deep into Shiro Seiryu’s belly, but the sumo wrestler’s expression did not change—in fact, there was even a faint smile at the corner of his mouth.

“So that’s it—a Profound Realm martial artist at the intermediate stage,” Shiro Seiryu praised his opponent, sighing with a hint of regret. “An attack of this level can’t hurt me. Now, away with you.”

He drew in a sharp breath, his belly turning as hard as stone. The rebounding force sent Xiao Kaitian flying backward.

“Your speed is impressive, and your combat sense as well,” Shiro Seiryu said, patting his stomach so that it rang out. “But just a little more, and your right hand would be useless.”

Xiao Kaitian landed on the deck, facing the sunset, squinting at his opponent. To be honest, the man’s unique physique was beyond his expectations.

In terms of pure strength, he held the advantage. But that strength could not penetrate Shiro Seiryu’s wall of flesh. Since that was the case, there was no need to hold back any longer.

Once more, he became a blur, streaking toward Shiro Seiryu at lightning speed.

“Stubborn fool,” Shiro Seiryu sneered. “The same attack is useless now, yet you still try.” He bellowed, “Let me send you to your end—Great Palm Print!”

Giving it his all, the palm shadows completely enveloped him, the best defense being a relentless offense—a truth he embodied to the fullest.

But Xiao Kaitian was ready. His left hand met the barrage—blows landed, shredding his suit sleeve, but he seized the opportunity. Once again, Shiro Seiryu’s belly was exposed.

“Go!” He drove his fist forward.

“How dull! Breathe in—!”

With a plop, his fist sank into Shiro Seiryu’s stomach once more. This time, however, a surge of force shot through, piercing Shiro Seiryu’s body and striking toward Tetsu Takeda, who quickly turned aside to avoid it.

“You... What is this...” Shiro Seiryu looked down, disbelief etched across his face.

Xiao Kaitian slowly withdrew his fist. This blow, infused with the power of his source, had already shattered all of Shiro Seiryu’s internal organs. As his hand came free, the sumo wrestler’s body, robbed of support, collapsed heavily to the deck, eyes wide in shock.

“Dessert time is over. Let’s begin the main course.” Xiao Kaitian stepped over Shiro Seiryu’s body and moved toward Tetsu Takeda.