Chapter 1036: I’m Still Standing

Qiao Jiajin felt a trickle of sweat run down his forehead, just as it reached his eyes, Zhang Shan moved.

He didn’t dare blink, letting the sweat roll over his eyeball, leaving behind a stinging, salty pain.

Zhang Shan, meanwhile, took a massive step forward, raising his heavy fist behind his head before delivering a brutally simple punch aimed straight at Qiao Jiajin’s skull.

The punch seemed ordinary at first glance, but Qiao Jiajin sensed an overwhelming force rushing toward his face. Pressed against the wall, he twisted to the side, dodging just as Zhang Shan’s iron fist smashed into the concrete.

*Crack!*

The deafening impact sounded different this time—Zhang Shan’s punch had actually left fine fractures in the wall.

Seizing the moment while Zhang Shan was off balance, Qiao Jiajin mustered all his strength and swung a powerful hook into Zhang Shan’s ribs. Zhang Shan only grunted in response, quickly retaliating with another strike.

The two exchanged rapid blows mid-air. Each of Zhang Shan’s punches carried monstrous force, like bullets tearing through the air. Qiao Jiajin, trapped against the wall with no room to retreat, could only dodge left and right or block with his arms. Though he appeared unharmed, every block sent numbing shocks through his limbs.

Zhang Shan’s fists relentlessly hammered into the white wall behind Qiao Jiajin, causing large sections to crumble. Yet the wall’s material was bizarre—shattering like ice, it exploded into powdery white fragments.

Spotting an opening, Qiao Jiajin intercepted Zhang Shan’s right hook with his left arm, enduring what felt like bone-shattering pain before suddenly driving his right elbow upward—straight into Zhang Shan’s jaw.

A metallic taste flooded Zhang Shan’s mouth as his consciousness flickered. His body spun uncontrollably before he suddenly accelerated into a wild rotation, his thick right fist whipping through the air.

Instinctively ducking, Qiao Jiajin still felt the wind of the strike graze his face, tearing off a chunk of flesh. Gritting his teeth, he lunged forward, alternating elbows into Zhang Shan’s chest.

Zhang Shan staggered back, barely parrying, until Qiao Jiajin leapt into the air, knee-first. Abandoning defense, Zhang Shan took the full brunt of the knee to his ribs but wrapped his arms around Qiao Jiajin mid-air, twisting and slamming him onto the ground.

Before Qiao Jiajin could recover, Zhang Shan sprang up, stomping down with crushing force. At the last second, Qiao Jiajin rolled aside and swept Zhang Shan’s legs out from under him, dragging him down into the dirt.

Their battle shifted from standing exchanges to a brutal ground struggle. Adrenaline now ruled their bodies—fatigue and pain were forgotten.

They fought purely on instinct, striking and blocking without thought.

After trading blows on the ground, they scrambled back to their feet, fists flying toward each other’s faces.

The sheer force behind their punches was terrifying—survival meant blocking every last one.

But now… how could they block any longer?

Exhaustion and blood loss had dulled their minds. Blood smeared their faces as Qiao Jiajin finally faltered, taking a devastating punch to the temple from Zhang Shan.

The impact was beyond anything he’d imagined. His head snapped violently to the side, ears ringing as the world spun.

Darkness encroached, consciousness slipping away.

*An ordinary man’s body can’t topple a mountain… Is this where I fall?*

*I’m not a mountain… but the weight I carry is heavier than one.*

*”Old Rong, I don’t know anything except fighting. You saved me and Ninth Boy. From now on, I’ll fight for you.”*

*”Liar, you’ve got the brains, I’ve got the fists. Let’s team up, yeah?”*

Only when his fists were raised did he feel truly alive.

Only when fighting for others did he feel he could repay his debts.

In the abyss, Qiao Jiajin felt himself sinking, surrounded by silence.

*What will I do… if I make it out of here?*

*Repay kindness… or seek vengeance?*

*I don’t know.*

*The people who mattered most to me are already gone.*

In the darkness, he slowly opened his eyes, seeing two boys running ahead—their backs tattooed, faces grinning.

*Compared to those days… this journey has been exhausting.*

*The last time I was this tired was when Old Rong and I got chased by thirty men from a casino. I dragged him along, fighting as we ran, bleeding as we fought.*

*But they just kept coming… one after another, ten after ten.*

*So if I fall now… will it finally end?*

*If I fall… will the weight on my shoulders disappear?*

*If I fall, who’ll stop Zhang Shan from breaking through our gate?*

*His fists are like steel, his speed like bullets. His body is a mountain—even after taking dozens of my punches, he won’t go down.*

*So…*

Seeing Qiao Jiajin’s balance waver, Zhang Shan stepped forward and launched another devastating punch. If this strike landed clean, the fight would truly be over.

Just as the fist was inches from his face, Qiao Jiajin’s reflexes kicked in—his hand snapped up, gripping Zhang Shan’s massive knuckles.

*”So I can’t fall…”*

*”Even if I die, I won’t die on my knees.”*

*”As long as I stand, the enemy won’t dare touch those behind me.”*

With a roar, Qiao Jiajin’s right fist exploded forward, smashing into Zhang Shan’s face.

Before Zhang Shan could process what happened, the sheer force sent him reeling five steps back, vision blacking out.

*This is bad—* Zhang Shan barely managed to raise his guard in time.

What followed was a storm of wild punches from Qiao Jiajin. Adrenaline masked all pain, so Zhang Shan abandoned defense entirely, trading blow for blow.

Neither blocked anymore—just mindlessly hammering fists into each other’s faces.

Blood sprayed from their mouths with every impact, splattering across the “canal” like crimson stars against the void.

Silence enveloped them, broken only by the whistling of fists cutting air and the sickening thuds of flesh meeting flesh.

Whether from blood loss or repeated concussions, Qiao Jiajin’s vision had long faded—only a swirling red-black haze remained.

*But Zhang Shan is right there.*

*If I throw a punch, it’ll hit him. He hasn’t moved.*

*So I can’t move, can’t retreat. If I take even one step back, I’ll never reach him again.*

Ten punches. Twenty.

Their strikes slowed but remained precise, each one landing squarely on the other’s head.

More blood. More wind roaring in their ears.

After dozens of exchanges, both seemed to freeze. Qiao Jiajin couldn’t even speak—his ears rang, his mouth dripped blood, yet the fight wasn’t over.

He lowered his head slightly, waiting for the punch that never came.

*Zhang Shan is right there.*

*If he’s stopped… this is my chance…*

With agonizing effort, Qiao Jiajin raised his fist, throwing one last punch from muscle memory alone.

It whiffed through empty air.

*Missed…? Why?*

*Zhang Shan… did you back off?*

*You know I can’t see… so you retreated?*

Shifting his stance, Qiao Jiajin summoned every ounce of strength left, swinging again with everything he had.

Another miss.

*Don’t run,* he thought desperately. *I’m still standing. You can’t leave yet.*

*As long as I’m here, you won’t lay a finger on my teammates.*

He turned once more, throwing another punch into the void.

He didn’t know how many times he struck at nothing before a pair of hands gently grasped his shoulders, then carefully held his fist.

A quiet voice spoke:

*”Enough… it’s over. You’ve done enough… He’s down.”*

Qiao Jiajin stood frozen for a long moment. His face had gone numb—he couldn’t tell if he was crying or smiling. All he remembered was making some expression before collapsing.

He never felt himself hit the ground. Someone caught him again.

This time, it was the weight he carried on his shoulders.