Within inches, Zhang Shan stepped forward.
He stared at Qiao Jiajin’s bobbing forearm, waiting for the right moment before suddenly reaching out to seize it.
But Qiao Jiajin seemed to anticipate his move, lifting his hands to evade the grab before countering by reaching for Zhang Shan’s arm.
Zhang Shan wanted to pin his opponent’s limb, but Qiao Jiajin was equally determined to drag him to the ground.
To defeat an opponent of this caliber while at a disadvantage, **submission holds** offered the highest chance of success. As long as he could firmly lock down the other man’s limbs, he could restrict his movements.
Qiao Jiajin’s fingers clamped onto Zhang Shan’s wrist, but before he could reinforce the hold with his other hand, Zhang Shan twisted his arm and broke free.
Seizing the moment while Qiao Jiajin’s guard was open, Zhang Shan lunged like a vise, his hands shooting toward the other man’s throat. In the blink of an eye, his iron-hard fingers dug into Qiao Jiajin’s flesh.
Yet before Zhang Shan could exert force, Qiao Jiajin hammered down on his wrists with both hands. The grip faltered, and the second attempt at restraint failed.
Taking advantage of the opening, Qiao Jiajin launched a flying kick to Zhang Shan’s chest, sending him stumbling backward.
The two separated by several steps, each now aware of the other’s strategy—it was a race to see who could seize control first.
Zhang Shan could snap limbs with brute strength, while Qiao Jiajin would dismantle his opponent with **joint locks**.
Under normal circumstances, whether in **locks**, **grapples**, or **judo**, many techniques were nearly impossible to escape once fully applied. Such lethal moves were often used to force surrender.
But in this fight to the death, neither man would yield.
Both cautiously lowered their stances, shifting their weight like wrestlers preparing to clash.
Zhang Shan, leveraging his size advantage, charged like a raging bull, his massive arms scissoring toward Qiao Jiajin’s waist from both sides.
Qiao Jiajin sidestepped just in time, narrowly avoiding the tackle while simultaneously wrapping his arms around Zhang Shan’s right limb.
One hand seized the forearm, the other clamped onto the bicep, while his foot slid forward between Zhang Shan’s legs.
As Zhang Shan tried to pull free, Qiao Jiajin twisted his body, driving his shoulder into the larger man’s chest.
With three points of leverage—his shoulder as the fulcrum and both hands locking the arm—Zhang Shan found himself momentarily immobilized.
Trapped, Zhang Shan had to quickly deduce the next move. If he couldn’t counter, he’d be overpowered.
His mind raced: *Arm locked over the shoulder… Is this a **suplex**?*
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than his free hand shot out, bracing against Qiao Jiajin’s waist. He shifted his entire weight backward—even if it *was* a suplex, without being lifted off the ground, the throw wouldn’t land.
Qiao Jiajin yanked downward, but it felt like trying to topple a mountain. Zhang Shan’s body leaned back, his monstrous strength resisting the motion, rendering the suplex ineffective.
But Zhang Shan should’ve realized: if feints worked with kicks, why not with throws?
Qiao Jiajin abandoned the suplex almost immediately. With Zhang Shan’s weight shifted back, he planted his left foot and hooked his right behind Zhang Shan’s heel.
Then, using the opponent’s own momentum, he hauled Zhang Shan backward, sending them both crashing to the ground.
This was no ordinary throw—it was a **Chinese wrestling** technique disguised as a suplex: the **”Lying Blade Takedown.”**
Qiao Jiajin twisted like a blade striking Zhang Shan’s chest, while the larger man landed flat on his back with a thunderous impact.
Ordinary throws couldn’t topple Zhang Shan, but by redirecting his own force, even a mountain could be felled.
Yet Qiao Jiajin knew better than to let his guard down. Against someone as tough as Zhang Shan, one takedown wouldn’t be enough. If he got pinned, the strength disparity would spell doom, so he scrambled to his feet.
Zhang Shan, sensing an opening, seized Qiao Jiajin’s wrist before he could disengage. As Qiao Jiajin retreated, Zhang Shan used the momentum to rise.
What seemed like a reversal was short-lived—the moment Zhang Shan stood, Qiao Jiajin latched onto his arm again.
Half a second later, Zhang Shan realized his mistake. Qiao Jiajin, ever relentless, leapt up and wrapped his legs around Zhang Shan’s neck before the bigger man could react.
Qiao Jiajin intended to hyperextend the arm with a **cross-armbar**, but his strength wasn’t enough to wrench Zhang Shan down. Instead, he clamped onto the head, yanked the arm, and threw himself backward, pulling Zhang Shan with him.
The sheer weight sent Zhang Shan crashing to his knees with a *thud*.
Qiao Jiajin wrenched the trapped arm while squeezing Zhang Shan’s head and armpit between his thighs—applying relentless pressure in a **triangle choke**.
Once locked in, this submission was nearly unbreakable: the arm immobilized, the neck compressed, rendering the opponent powerless—even risking suffocation.
But the size difference was staggering. Zhang Shan, standing at 6’3” and weighing over 200 pounds of pure muscle, was no ordinary man.
With a guttural roar, he drove his legs forward, bulldozing Qiao Jiajin across the floor.
Already shirtless, Qiao Jiajin felt his back sear from the friction, but letting go now would be suicide. He tightened the choke, thighs crushing downward until Zhang Shan howled in pain.
After being dragged several feet, Qiao Jiajin’s skull suddenly exploded with agony—his head had slammed into the wall.
The impact left his vision swimming, but he clung on instinctually, pulling with all his might.
Back in the **”Heaven’s Gate”** fight, he’d used this very move to snap an opponent’s arm. But Zhang Shan’s limbs were like steel-reinforced logs—even locked, they resisted fiercely. Without exhausting him first, breaking the arm was impossible.
Realizing Qiao Jiajin wouldn’t relent despite the blow, Zhang Shan snarled and tried to stand.
Qiao Jiajin could hardly believe it—what kind of core strength allowed a man to rise while his neck bore over a hundred pounds of downward force?
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