You're Such a Disappointment

Bang! Bang! Bang! Like someone playing whack-a-mole, Qi Li gripped a massive sheet of steel in one hand and slammed it relentlessly down on Derek's skull. Derek's superpower had one great advantage: it came with a sort of built-in poise. No matter how hard he was hit, he wouldn't easily go flying. Because of that, Qi Li didn't even need to shift positions. He could simply stand his ground and pound away with all his might. After a dozen strikes, the thick steel plate finally gave out, shattering into a dozen jagged shards with a sharp crack. Propelled by the immense shockwaves, several razor-sharp fragments spun outward at blinding speed. In the blink of an eye, they were about to clear the guardrails and tear viciously into the stands, threatening a gruesome disaster. Suddenly, the shards froze dead in midair. Then, as if kneaded by an invisible hand, accompanied by an ear-grating screech of grinding metal, they rapidly collapsed inward, blended together, and condensed into a smooth iron ball that drifted gently down onto the palm of a middle-aged Black man at the edge of the stage. Two Poles—a supe with magnetic powers, now a member of the Godkin University board of directors—had come today to oversee arena security. Qi Li glanced at him, then pulled his gaze away, tossed aside the scrap of steel remaining in his hand, and strode toward Derek amid the feverish roars of the crowd. Derek's head was still gleaming brightly, looking every bit like a silver marinated egg, but the man himself was thoroughly dazed. Even so, seeing Qi Li blur into view before him, he gave his head a violent shake and swung a silver fist forward, refusing to back down. This time, Qi Li made no move to dodge. He hadn't forgotten that beyond the thousands packed into the arena, tens of millions more were watching via television and livestreams. In Derek's eyes, this was a battle of revenge. Yet fundamentally—in his own eyes, Godkin's, and Vought's—it was a rare, golden opportunity for publicity. And if it was promotional, he naturally had to showcase every side of his abilities. Earlier, Qi Li had demonstrated his technical skill to the audience; now, it was time to serve up the most thrilling, hardcore spectacle that American viewers loved best: pure, unadulterated head-to-head brawling. Bang! Derek's fist slammed solidly into Qi Li's chest. It was the first clean hit he had landed since the fight began. Just as gasps rippled through the spectators, Qi Li merely offered an easy smile. Utterly unfazed, he immediately returned the blow. Clang! Derek's head snapped violently to the right. Ferocity flared in his eyes, and he drove another punch toward Qi Li's face. Qi Li took the punch calmly, without so much as a bruise on his skin. His expression unyielding, he drove his right fist out again, trailing a shockwave of displaced air. One punch! Two punches! Three punches! It was nothing more than an unadorned exchange of blows—one punch for another. Yet at this moment, it set the blood of the crowd in the arena and behind screens boiling. Adrenaline surged through their veins, and unable to contain themselves any longer, people leaped to their feet. Over the minutes that followed, their eyes went wide, flushed faces burning as they panted involuntarily, transfixed by this raw spectacle devoid of any fancy tricks. It was fist meeting flesh, a primal blow to the core of their being that detonated the naked instinct for violence etched into human DNA since ancient times. Ten punches! Eleven punches! Twelve punches! ... Twenty punches! Finally, after a deafening, frenzied exchange of blows that defied ordinary human physical limits, Derek gasped raggedly, unable to hold on any longer, and stumbled back two paces. Roar!! The arena erupted in pandemonium. Unscathed, Qi Li gave his neck an easy roll with a smile, stepped forward, and closed the distance instantly. Under Derek's increasingly panicked gaze, Qi Li struck again with undiminished force, his right fist driving straight at Derek's face. Clang! The collision made the same metallic sound, but this time, Derek's weakness was unmistakable. The impact threw him backward again. At the sight, the cheers of thousands surged once more. Without giving Derek a chance to find his footing, Qi Li pressed in. One strike, two, three. With one advancing and the other retreating, Derek grew visibly weaker. Seeing Derek on the verge of being forced off the stage entirely, Qi Li shot out a hand, grabbed Derek by the throat, and lifted him inch by inch off his feet. A look of boredom crossed his face: "Out of steam already? You're such a disappointment." "Urgh—" The arrogance and malice in Derek's eyes had vanished, replaced by wild, desperate struggles to break free, only to find he couldn't budge Qi Li's grip in the slightest. A wave of overwhelming terror flooded his chest. Glory, the superior race, the chosen people—none of it mattered anymore. Derek desperately tried to yield and beg for mercy, but when the words reached his throat, nothing came out: "Urgh... ngh—" Watching Derek panic worse than a frightened rabbit, looking ready to break into snot and tears at any second, Qi Li shook his head and tightened his grip around Derek's neck. The next second, he slammed him brutally into the ground. Boom! The already wrecked surface smashed inward, opening a deep crater. Qi Li wasn't finished. He hauled Derek back up and slammed him down again and again, treating him like a ragdoll. With each impact, the atmosphere in the arena spiked toward a fever pitch. Qi Li took it all in. It was time to wrap things up. He pulled Derek up once more, stepped behind him, and then... Releasing his grip, Qi Li snapped his right arm securely around Derek's neck, pressing the inside of his forearm against Derek's throat, while locking his left hand firmly behind Derek's head. In the next instant, the muscles in his arms bunched, and he applied maximum pressure, squeezing with everything he had. Terror plastered Derek's face. His desperate thrashing was futile; all he could do was feel his neck creaking under the crushing force. With his carotid arteries choked off, the blood supply to his brain rapidly failed, though his superhuman physiology allowed him to hold out longer than an ordinary person. After a dozen breaths, Derek's eyelids drooped, and he slipped completely into unconsciousness. Qi Li didn't stop there. Lowering his gaze to mask the killing intent within, he exerted force through his arms once more. Snap! A splintering crack of vertebrae sounded, audible only to him. Derek went completely still. Qi Li let go, allowing the limp body to slump onto the ground. "Let us give our loudest cheers and applause to the ultimate victor of this legendary duel—Bronze!!" The arena announcer's voice boomed over the speakers. Tens of thousands chanted the name "Bronze" in unison, their voices soaring straight into the clouds. Golden confetti rained down from above, carpeting the entire stadium in an instant. Qi Li raised his right hand high, savoring the taste of victory. At the same time, his peripheral vision caught sight of Derek's corpse already being loaded onto a stretcher. The only good "patriot" was a dead patriot. Qi Li had no desire to leave an offended extremist alive to cause trouble later. This duel had been the perfect opportunity. Even if he had killed the man, it would merely be ruled an accidental excessive blow, bringing zero fallout. After all, casualties were hardly unheard of in past Godkin University duels. Besides, feeling the newly absorbed power stirring within him, Qi Li figured he owed Derek one last bit of thanks. The guy had given him another successful harvest.