CHAPTER 142: THE DOCTOR'S STRIKE
Even though Kureha Shinogi had changed into fresh gear and towelled off, beads of sweat still clung to his pale skin. The intensity of his warm-up was radiating from his pores like steam.
The announcer continued to feed the crowd's energy.
"Look at that sheen! Kureha Shinogi didn't just warm up; he reached a state of terminal readiness! He is a biological furnace waiting to ignite!"
The VIP Box.
The front row was a gallery of the city's most dangerous men.
There was Kosho Shinogi, Doppo Orochi, and the owner, Mitsunari Tokugawa. But sitting beside the old man was a new addition—a handsome, scarred man with salmon-pink hair.
Mitsuyo Kureishi.
Tokugawa, having tentacles in every corner of the combat world, knew Kureishi well. The MMA star had walked the "Shadow Path" before turning pro.
"Haha! The atmosphere is electric tonight, isn't it?" Tokugawa nudged Kureishi. "How about it? Want me to book you for the next card?"
Kureishi let out a helpless, charming laugh. "Give me a break, Old Man. If I step into that pit, I won't be able to stop myself. I'd break everyone in the building."
Tokugawa knew about Kureishi's bone-breaking "fetish." In the Underground Arena, such quirks were celebrated, but Kureishi valued his public reputation.
"Fair enough!" Kureishi added, waving to a group approaching the box. "My juniors are here. And I ran into a couple of friends at the gate."
Tokugawa, always a hospitable host to warriors, grinned. "Bring them in! The more 'Might' in the room, the better the show!"
Nozomi Tenma, Fusui Kure, and Arisa Sakurai entered the box. Tokugawa's eyes immediately locked onto Fusui's black-and-white sclera.
"A daughter of the Kure Clan? How rare! I didn't think your family bothered with 'Unprofitable' venues like mine."
Fusui offered a polite, respectful nod. "We're here on a personal matter, Tokugawa-sama. Consider us guests, not contractors."
Doppo Orochi laughed, spotting the group. "Haha! It's a regular Shinshinkai reunion! The lineup tonight is more expensive than a government cabinet!"
Tokugawa pointed his folding fan toward different sections of the stands. "Look for yourselves. The 'Scent' of this match has drawn everyone out of their holes."
Ren and the girls scanned the crowd.
Retsu Kaioh, the Kung Fu Master. Goki Shibukawa, the Aiki Master. Kaoru Hanayama, the Yakuza Boss, and his loyal lieutenant, Chiharu Shiba.
But it wasn't just the Dome veterans.
Jun Sekibayashi of Super Japan Pro-Wrestling. Kiohzan Takeru, the Sumo prodigy. Kozo Murobuchi, the decathlete.
Even corporate titans from the Association—Nogi, Katahara, and even the executives from Teiai—were scattered throughout the VIP tiers.
"Oji-san," Doppo mused, "did you send out personal invitations to all these monsters?"
"Some of them, sure," Tokugawa whispered with a wicked grin. "But most of them? They just smelled the blood. Though... my primary guests haven't arrived yet. I suspect they're waiting for the curtain to fall before they make their entrance."
In the ring, Kureha Shinogi stood like a statue. He shadow-boxed occasionally, his movements crisp and rhythmic. He looked in peak condition.
But the general audience was being quiet.
Many remembered Kureha's debut against Baki Hanma. Back then, he had blown up a rubber hot-water bottle by breathing into it and torn a truck tire in half while doing a squat. It had been a circus of raw physical feats.
Tonight, he was just... standing. He looked "Ordinary" compared to his previous self.
But the experts—Doppo, Kureishi, and even Ren—saw the truth.
"Kureha has settled," Doppo noted, his arms crossed. "He's no longer looking down on the 'Fighter.' He's abandoned the showmanship for pure application."
Tokugawa opened his fan. "He realized that blowing up water pillows is child's play. There are kids in the tournament circuit who can tear a phonebook in half while sleeping."
On the deck, Kureha grabbed the hem of his tank top. With a single, casual tug, he shredded the high-end athletic fabric into rags.
He stood bare-chested. Every muscle group was rounded, fluid, and perfectly defined. His mass was enormous, yet it didn't look "Bulky." It looked highly functional—a body designed for the singular purpose of high-speed trauma.
"Ooh, look at that lat-spread!" Kureishi whistled. "He's two... no, three weight classes above me. That's a terrifying vessel."
"Heh... HA!"
Kosho Shinogi felt a surge of pride. "To be honest, the Dome hasn't been a lucky place for my brother. He lost to Baki, he yielded to me, and he got tossed around by the Ogre. He's technically never won a match here."
Doppo Orochi let out a mysterious smile. "I never knew the ' Cord-Cutter' was a liar, too."
Kosho's face flushed. "What?!"
"As his brother, you can see it better than anyone," Doppo said softly. "The man standing in that ring is ten times stronger than the one who fought Baki Hanma. He's undergone a total metamorphosis."
As they spoke, a disturbance broke out at the edge of the ring.
A muscular man with a thick mustache vaulted over the barrier. He looked familiar—a Taekwondo champion who had once represented the MPD's elite divisions.
He marched toward Kureha, his face a mask of rage.
"D-Doppo... is that a grudge match?" Tokugawa wondered.
"One of the 'Burial Specialists' Kureha dismantled at the garage was this guy's student," Suedo noted from the sidelines. "He's here for revenge. He thinks the Dome is a place where he can settle the score without the law interfering."
The mustache guy didn't waste words. He launched a high-speed roundhouse aimed at Kureha's temple.
THUD.
Kureha didn't dodge. He didn't even move. He tanked the kick with the side of his skull, his neck muscles not even rippling from the impact.
"Heh. Pathetic."
"The MPD has some decent instructors," Kureha said, his voice a smooth, mocking purr. "But your 'Might' is skin-deep. You understand the form, but your knowledge of human anatomy is... elementary."
Kureha rolled his neck, completely unphased. "Hitting the head is a logical choice. But if you hit at the wrong angle, the cervical spine redirects the force into the shoulders. You achieved nothing."
He tightened his fist.
"Allow me to show you my 'New Understanding' of biology and combat. This is Anatomical Destruction."
SHING!
Kureha launched a punch. It was incredibly fast, but the target was strange. He didn't hit a vital. He struck the man squarely in the center of his chest.
THUD.
To the crowd, it looked like a standard body-blow. But the reaction was catastrophic.
The Taekwondo champion let out a shrill, soul-piercing wail. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest, his eyes bulging as he struggled to breathe. He wasn't just in pain; his body was in a state of systemic shock.
"AAGGH! STOP! IT HURTS! MY HEART... IT'S STOPPING!"
Kureha stepped forward. He splayed his thumb and index finger, pressing them gently against the man's carotid sinus. With a light squeeze, he cut the oxygen to the brain, putting the man to sleep instantly.
The ring medics hurried in with a stretcher to haul the intruder away.
The display was more effective than any tire-tearing stunt. The crowd erupted into a roar of excitement.
"Wait... that was a jab!" Nozomi gasped. "Why did he go down like that?!"
Tokugawa grinned. "Because he's a doctor. He knows exactly where the nerve clusters are. A single 'tap' can cause the heart to skip a beat and the lungs to seize. It's a one-shot kill without the effort."
But Doppo Orochi looked concerned. "Master... did Kureha always have that level of Traditional Striking?"
Tokugawa: "..."
Tokugawa: "Hmm?"
The old man realized it too. The punch hadn't just been "Medical." It had the "Weight" of a thousand repetitions.
The White Tiger Entrance.
Ren Shiroki finished his final stretch.
The Taekwondo champion was carried past him on a stretcher. Ren looked at the man's chest. There was a deep, crater-like indentation in the center of the ribs, and the skin was already a dark, bruised purple.
Even unconscious, the man's face was twisted in a grimace of absolute agony.
"Nice," Ren whispered, a wide grin splitting his face.
"Simply perfect!"
Ren slapped his own chest, the sound echoing through the tunnel. He took his first step onto the sand of the arena.
"Alright. It's time for the Main Event!"
☆☆☆
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