Chapter 122: Azure State University Martial Arts Tournament!

Chapter 122: Azure State University Martial Arts Tournament!

Our two luxury limos glided seamlessly into side-by-side parking spaces right outside the bustling entrance of the Star City Arena. The prime location was entirely thanks to Victoria, given that the massive stadium belonged to the Long family and was actively managed by Alex Deng.

Vicky’s main goal for the day was ensuring the family didn't have to mingle with the standard public crowd. She had personally reserved the exclusive Long VIP box, providing all of my lovers with a private, highly secure sanctuary while Tina and I were forced to head straight down into the bowels of the chaotic gathering.

To prevent any unexpected complications or safety risks, Victoria had also deployed her private corporate security team to track the perimeter around the suite. Their main job was filtering out any horny noble men who might try to drop by under the guise of a coincidence.

Tina and I accompanied the rest of the household toward the upper levels to drop them off first. Both of us were already wearing our grey Kung-Fu uniforms underneath our standard Star University workout sweats so we could bypass the crowded communal changing rooms entirely, though I had to admit that walking around in a rigid athletic sports-cup all day absolutely sucked.

The event wasn't being held in the smaller arena where I had fought my previous public matches. Instead, the organizers had rented out the primary indoor stadium, a massive venue typically reserved for professional sports leagues and high-profile musical concerts like the upcoming New Years Eve Bash next week.

The scale of the building easily matched the largest sports domes from my past life on Earth. A vast second-level seating deck loomed overhead, allowing thousands of roaring spectators to peer straight down into the active rings, and it was right along this elevated tier that the luxury VIP rooms were constructed to provide a perfect bird's-eye view of the floor.

The stadium infrastructure was incredibly upscale, featuring two large commercial restaurants structurally attached to the north and east sections of the perimeter. A massive multi-level parking garage dominated the east side, while the smaller tournament arena sat directly to the south of the main complex.

The dining establishment on the north end was called Deng's Dogs, catering primarily to the middle-class fan base. It provided an array of standard event concessions like hot dogs, hamburgers, hot pretzels, corn dogs, popcorn, fried rice bowls, and noodle bowls, offering the fast service and portable options that sports or concert crowds needed on the go, alongside selections of cold beer and wine.

The restaurant on the west side was conveniently linked straight to our private suite corridor, operating as Victoria's very own signature BBQ House. I knew the menu all too well from our family dinners. The best part of the setup was that Vicky had already arranged for the kitchen staff to cater our lunch directly to the room, completely eliminating any need for us to wander into the public concourse. Honestly, having highly powerful wives was the freaking best.

The VIP suite itself was an expansive twenty-by-twenty-foot room equipped with its own private restroom facilities. The viewing section featured two long rows of movie-theater-style luxury seating with adjustable armrests that could glide up or down, allowing the chairs to function as individual spots or transition into a unified couch layout depending on the occupant's preference. Each row comfortably accommodated ten people, with the back row structurally elevated to ensure a clear view over the heads of the front section.

The staff had already prepared modular folding tables that safely locked into the frame of the seats, allowing the girls to dine with the same comfort they enjoyed back at the mansion.

The front section was entirely enclosed by heavy glass panels to dampen the thunderous roar of the crowd below. However, the occupants could easily choose to pipe the ambient stadium audio through an integrated speaker system or roll down the electronic privacy windows to experience the raw atmosphere alongside the other spectators.

Directly across from the private restroom sat a dedicated seating lounge reserved for the accompanying household staff, personal maids, and close bodyguards. The back wall of the suite featured a fully stocked wet bar complete with a large refrigeration unit.

All in all, the entire layout was incredibly elegant and high-class. We were already scheduled to utilize this exact same room for the upcoming holidays, though I chose to push the thoughts of that future New Years disaster out of my head to focus on the immediate task at hand.

Zoe was stationed inside as the singular Master-level bodyguard protecting the inner room, while the rest of Victoria's personal guards took up tactical positions in the outer hallway. This left the primary rotation of maids inside to consist of Zoe, Mei, Mercy, and Jenifer.

The list of ladies attending the social gathering included Akeno Tong, Kim Smith, Lucy Shen, Victoria, Mary, Hana, Nichole, Nadia, and Linda. I had failed to mention it previously, but over the last weekend, James Tong and Akeno had officially tied the knot, making her a legal citizen of Eurasia.

Naturally, I had attended the small ceremony alongside Kim and Hana to support my friend.

As a wedding gift for their union, I had personally driven the newlyweds to our premier indoor mall and handed them a twenty-thousand-dollar shopping spree to jump-start their lives. Hana, Kim, and I had simply followed the happy couple from store to store as they browsed the aisles. In reality, spending twenty thousand dollars on normal household goods is significantly harder than one might think, especially when you strictly avoid wasting funds on luxury items like jewelry. In the end, the bulk of the money was invested into high-end smartphones and upgraded computer setups.

When Kim and Akeno had later pulled me aside to ask why I was spending such an astronomical sum on them, I had looked them dead in the eye and given them a simple truth. "For four long years, my friend James took half of my beatings with me in those alleys. If that isn't a brother worth treating well, I would be absolute scum."

As Tina and I began stretching our limbs, preparing to head down to the lower level where the official university seating was located, Akeno turned away from the glass to address us, her thick foreign accent cutting through the room. "Jimbo is down there with Ashley, so please make sure to keep a close eye on him for me."

I offered her a firm nod of reassurance, turning my head to scan the crowded rows of the suite before looking back at my lovers. "I just realized something looking at all of you. We actively have someone representing almost every major nation on Earth in this single room. The China Empire, the Japanese Empire, and the United Kingdom of America. Not bad."

The women paused, looking around the room as they realized the cultural layout of our household for the very first time. As Tina and I turned toward the heavy suite door, Mercy silently stepped into line right behind us, her posture shifting into a defensive stride. "With Zoe managing the inner room, I can finally step away and be myself with you two down there. Plus, you both know how much I truly like fighting."

A faint blush crept onto her cheeks as she admitted her desire to watch the matches. I offered her a warm smile, nodding in approval. But before we could exit, Lucy suddenly called out from the back corner of the room, her fingers tapping against her keyboard. "Rick, before you run down to the floor, you need to look at this."

I pivoted, leaning over Lucy's shoulder to look down at the high-definition monitor displaying a restricted personal dossier. She pointed a manicured finger at the screen, her voice dropping into a quiet murmur. "This contestant here is Logan Chen, a thirty-year-old representing South City University. He is an official ringer deployed straight from the South Sea Temple, and the intelligence reports claim he is currently the youngest confirmed Master to emerge from their training grounds. He has short black hair, brown eyes, and stands at roughly your exact height. This guy is the singular contestant you actually need to look out for today, so make sure to warn Tina. His muscle memory is heavily optimized for Snake-Style Kung-Fu."

I frowned, staring at the digital photo. "This guy is a representative from one of the four Hidden Temples, functioning exactly like those two rogue monks and Laura whom I previously defeated? Why the hell is he competing in a standard university tournament? And more importantly, I thought their factions were strictly confined to Black State territory?"

Lucy turned her head, offering me a thoroughly unapologetic, sweet look as she adjusted her glasses. "Actually... after I recently blew up the Mountain Temple complex with that strike, the remaining three Hidden Temples now possess total operational freedom to migrate into Azure State. Oops."

I stared down at the smiling woman, a massive urge to facepalm washing over me. "Lucy, why the hell did you blow up an ancient sanctuary?"

"First, I issued a formal warning by dropping a bunker-buster near their perimeter to tell them to leave you alone. Then, their high leader chose to actively collaborate with our national enemies. But the real reason? They continuously attempted to cause you physical harm, so I simply locked onto their coordinates and wiped the majority of them out, te-he."

Holy fuck. I stood completely frozen, processing the reality that Lucy had casually obliterated a two-thousand-year-old monastery simply to protect my long-term plot loops. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. "I still have ten of those strategic munitions left in the regional armory if you ever want me to coordinate a tactical drone strike. Just point to a spot on the map, and I won't care who you hit. Now go down there and play in the ring, Rick. I want to see you have some real fun today."

I swallowed hard, immensely glad that I was the only person in the room who could see the intense look in her blue eyes right now. She was completely, totally serious about me pointing a finger to call down tactical bunker-busters on my enemies. I reached out, patting her back reassuringly before turning to exit the suite alongside Tina and Mercy. As we navigated the winding concrete stairwells leading down to the arena floor, I broke the silence to brief them on the new Snake-Style user we needed to watch out for.

The moment our group of three stepped into the official Star University athletic team, the sheer volume of noise hit us like a physical wall. There were at least a hundred different universities stationed across the floor, creating a chaotic sea of team banners and shouting coaches.

Scanning our designated rows, I instantly spotted our full local entourage waiting for us: Coach Darrel Leng, Coach Misty Lee, Coach Tracy Hong, James, Ashley Hue, Cat Woo, Danny Shu, Tony Deng, Scott Song, Ralph Colt, Matsuda Tanaka, Jill Hammer, and about seven other unfamiliar faces who appeared to be the wives of the other male club members. Sitting right in the center of the bench was Hope Song.

Coach Tracy—our resident love-triangle instructor—caught sight of Tina and me approaching, a wide, relieved smile breaking across her face as she gestured toward the open mats. "You made it right on time, kids. Now get ready immediately, because the officials are going to start sending our brackets out quickly. Everyone listen up, I am going to outline the core tournament parameters again, so listen well."

While her voice echoed over the bench, Tina and I began stripping off our heavy outer workout sweats, tossing them toward the seats. Mercy stepped forward smoothly, catching our discarded clothes and stowing them away into a secure gym bag she held ready.

Coach Tracy clapped her hands together to command our attention. "In order to secure a victory in your match, you must be the first to accumulate three points. To earn a single point, you must land a clean, decisive strike to the opponent's torso above the belt line, or directly to the head. Any impact landed below the belt line or against the arms does not count toward your scoring metrics. Furthermore, any accidental or intentional strike to the groin area will result in an immediate point deduction from your total. All standard throws, trips, joint locks, and traditional maneuvers are perfectly legal to use during the bout, but they will not earn you any points until you successfully strike the high-priority targets I just listed. After every single point is awarded, the referee will separate the combatants until the official whistle calls for the restart."

Coach Tracy Hong reached into her supply crate, holding up a pair of lightweight, five-fingered sparring gloves alongside the required athletic protective footwear. "Regardless of your personal martial style, every contestant must wear these approved pads during their bouts. You are strictly forbidden from targeting the opponent's eyes or groin area unless the dynamic of a movement forces an accidental contact. Any intentional or severe damage caused to an opponent's eyes will result in an immediate disqualification from the tournament, period. Any questions?"

Absolutely everyone along the bench offered a silent nod, indicating they understood the parameters perfectly. We had already inserted our standard mouthguards into our jaws, ensuring none of us would be leaving the mats with missing teeth.

I shifted my stance, looking up at the massive, multi-sided electronic scoreboard hanging directly in the center of the stadium ceiling. The displays projected in all directions, allowing the entire dome to easily track individual match-ups and ring assignments.

The organizers were running twenty separate rings simultaneously across the massive floor. Each point-based fight lasted an average of five minutes or less, and only on rare occasions would a tactical forest of stalemates cause a single bout to exceed that limit.

The absolute worst element of this specific tournament structure was the total lack of localized bracket protection. There was a very real chance you could end up fighting a member of your own university team in the early rounds.

Furthermore, a single defeat meant instant elimination from the entire event. This layout left zero room for tactical errors and provided no secondary redemption brackets like some international sport martial arts tournaments allowed.

While I was analyzing the layout, James slid past the benches to catch my attention. "What is up, man? How are you holding up down here? Ashley just told me she was feeling incredibly nervous about the sheer scale of these crowds."

Ashley shrugged her shoulders lightly, her arms crossing over her university track jacket as she looked around the roaring dome. "I grew up in an incredibly quiet, isolated community, so seeing this many people packed into a single venue is honestly a bit jarring for my senses."

Hearing her describe her home region triggered a brief, passing wave of sadness in my chest for the loss of her former life. However, the logical side of my brain—the part that thoroughly despised being targeted by hostile monastic orders—harbored absolutely zero regrets regarding the terminal measures Lucy had executed to secure my safety.

I shook the thoughts away, offering a casual smile to ease her tension. "I am mostly just here to have some fun today, and if I am being totally honest, I really don't like dealing with these massive crowds either."

Coach Tracy Hong stepped back into our circle, clapping her hands loudly to cut the conversation short. "Okay, find your designated ring coordinates immediately and stand in the participant queue until your specific match is called. Go, go, go!"

With the staff actively clearing the staging areas, there was absolutely no time left to socialize or analyze the other active rings, sigh.

Tina reached up, pressing a quick, supportive kiss against my lips for good luck before spinning on her heel toward ring number seven. I turned the opposite way, picking up my pace to navigate the crowded floor toward ring number thirteen.

For this specific point-sparring event, I had taken the calculated precaution of removing all of my heavy training weights so my limbs could move with absolute, unhindered speed.

The mechanics of the sport dictated that the only method to accumulate points was to cleanly tag the specified scoring zones. It was completely useless to attempt heavy, killing blows with raw strength or aggressive ferocity. High-flying maneuvers like traditional martial arts axe-kicks were entirely pointless here because they exposed your posture.

In reality, this highly regulated style of sport fighting was purely for public entertainment value. It functioned exactly like the scripted professional wrestling matches from my past life on Earth.

The moment I arrived at the perimeter of ring thirteen, the opening match of the bracket was already underway. My registration number indicated I was scheduled to join the fray exactly two matches later.

I tracked the opposing numbers on the local monitor, shifting my focus toward the participant standing across the queue. My scan revealed a focused woman who appeared to be roughly twenty-four years old. Her structural alignment made it pretty obvious she was a dedicated Kung-Fu user, though she was standing too far away for me to decipher her specific style branch.

Scanning the surrounding rings, it was a completely safe bet to assume that at least ninety percent of the active participants across the arena only possessed a Basic level of skill proficiency. Only a scant, rare few had managed to break into the Advanced tiers, such as Tina and Ashley.

The vast majority of those Advanced martial artists were already nearing their thirties. They were a distinct rarity in a tournament dominated by young university students who were fresh out of high school like me.

The preceding matches concluded with blistering speed, and the referee finally called my matching registration number.

I calmly stepped over the boundary lines to take up my position on the painted white line. We were instructed to execute a formal bow toward one another before the official raised his hand, dropping it sharply to signal the start of the bout.

The woman, instantly recognizing that I was holding my position without projecting any immediate aggression, mistook my stance for hesitation. She lunged forward to execute a rapid combination.

Utilizing a simple, fluid deflection with my left hand, I cleanly redirected her incoming strike. Simultaneously, I slid my right palm straight underneath her extended arm. My hand active memory guided the punch, landing a perfectly controlled strike right in the center of her torso under her breastline, taking care to act like a complete gentleman.

"Point!"

The referee roared the call, separating us instantly. The moment he confirmed we had reset onto our respective marks, his hand waved downward a second time.

This time, the woman attempted to leverage her reach advantage, launching a long-range front kick toward my chest. I didn't bother dodging. Instead, I simply caught her extended leg out of the air, pulling her physical frame directly into my space while utilizing my free hand to drive a clean strike straight into her exposed belly.

"Point!"

I released her leg, letting her stumble back onto her line as we reset our postures once more. The referee's hand dropped for the final round, and this time, the woman chose to hold her ground, waiting defensively for me to initiate the exchange.

Unfortunately for her tactical planning, I completely defied her defensive expectations. I surged forward, activating my speed as I rushed inside her guard, executing a synchronized double-palm strike straight into her abdomen before her eyes could even register my movement.

I simply dashed across the mat, completely ignoring her internal thought process. By bending my torso forward during the double-palm execution, I completely removed my chest from her line of sight. The movement left her with only her arms to defend—which held absolutely zero point value—causing her mental processing to lag entirely.

"Point!"

"Winner, number seventy-four! Now execute your closing bows!"

The woman turned and exited the mat, throwing a pitiful, thoroughly confused look over her shoulder as if the laws of the universe dictated I should have somehow lost to her strategy. Fuck lady, I was an absolute gentleman throughout the entire sequence, and I didn't even use the chaotic movements to cop an accidental feel on you.

Unbothered by her stare, I turned away from the ring and made my way straight back to our university's designated seating area.

The moment I stepped over the bench, Mercy stepped forward smoothly, handing me a small bottle of chilled water to soothe my throat.

I absolutely loved how she continuously maintained her signature emotionless facade under pressure, even though my spatial awareness could almost imagine a happy tail wagging rapidly behind her waist right now. I took the bottle, offering a warm murmur. "I am incredibly glad you came down to the floor to watch the matches and help me out, Mercy. Let's grab a seat and wait for the brackets to update."

I slid onto the bench next to James, and Mercy immediately claimed the open spot on my opposite side. James, who had become entirely accustomed to seeing gorgeous, high-tier maids hovering around my personal space, completely ignored her presence to focus on the tournament updates.

"Yours concluded with blistering speed, Rick. But looking at the master layout, it looks like both Tina and Ashley are stuck much further back in their respective queues. By the way, are you completely prepared for the upcoming winter testing cycle?"

"No problem at all. Are you planning to maintain the exact same class selections for the second half of the academic year, or are you changing your tracking a bit?"

James leaned back against the riser, a serious expression crossing his face as he shared his thoughts. "It looks like I am going to copy your exact technical schedule, and I'm planning to formally pick up the Kung-Fu Club alongside Ashley. She explicitly told me that I need to possess the physical capability to fight off Scott Song or Cat Woo at a bare minimum if I want to survive in the dangerous social world we are eventually going to fly in."

I nodded slowly, acknowledging the sheer accuracy of her warning. Simultaneously, my left hand reached down toward the bench, sliding over to firmly grasp Mercy’s fingers, instantly embarrassing her in the open. "Make sure you listen to her advice, James. She is absolutely not wrong."

Mercy desperately wanted to let her hand escape my grip, knowing full well that a formal maid wasn't supposed to be openly holding her master's hand in a public sporting event.

Realizing I wasn't letting go, she quickly manipulated her position, using the heavy gym bag to cover our joined hands from public view. The clever little maneuver was something that I found completely adorable.

Her brilliant blue eyes shot a glaring look in my direction, her expression clearly translating to a silent rebuke.

[Naughty Master!]

I decided I had teased her enough for one morning, slowly removing my hand from her grip. A passing shadow of regret immediately crossed her features the moment the physical contact broke, making her look incredibly cute all over again.

Before we could continue our discussion, Hope Song walked smoothly across the aisle, stopping right in front of our trio as she offered a polite murmur. "Hello Rick Tang, I haven't had a proper opportunity to say hello to you in a long time."

I instantly activated my Basic level Acting skill, plastering a perfectly relaxed, unbothered smile onto my face as I addressed her. "I strictly didn't want Scott to get the crazy impression that I was actively hunting after his woman, so I purposely avoided approaching your section. Please forgive the distance. Oh, don't look so surprised, Hope. Plenty of people across campus have seen the two of you walking together, and I honestly think you guys make a fantastic couple."

Hope blinked, her expression shifting into a thoughtful look as she evaluated my words. "Hmm? I see. Well, there is absolutely no point in trying to hide the relationship from the families then. I genuinely fell in love with his broken heart after the divorce scandal, and I am actively trying my best to mend his pride. Given the current political landscape, I didn't possess any other high-tier husband prospects within the blocks anyway, so I chose to secure him. What did your uncle say when he heard the news?"

"He simply wishes the two of you the absolute best of luck."

Before she could respond, both Tina and Ashley arrived back from their respective mats. Tina’s golden eyes instantly narrowed into an unfriendly, sharp glare the moment she caught Hope standing near my space, her tone dropping into a possessive register.

"Should you really be standing here gossiping with my man while your own husband over there is currently sulking by the benches? He completely refused our club's tactical assistance during his preparation, and now he is an official first-round loser."

Hope’s jaw tightened, a flash of irritation crossing her face as she wanted to lash out at the insult. But checking her own position, she knew better than to openly challenge someone holding Tina Feng’s massive nobility status. "Thanks for the update. I will go attend to him now. Goodbye, Mr Tang."

I followed her movements as the woman turned and walked back toward the Song family rows, her stride projecting a highly confident aura. What the hell? Even the most manipulative bitches in these noble families could look incredibly hot when they wanted to, right?

Tina let out a soft laugh, completely ignoring the surrounding spectators as she stepped into my space and sat down directly onto my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck, tilting her head with a teasing grin. "Did you miss me, Rick?"

In the strict social world of Eurasia, it was considered highly improper for a prominent noble lady to openly lounge in a man's lap in the middle of a crowded public arena, but Tina clearly didn't give a single fuck about traditional etiquette.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, leaning in close to whisper the bad news against her ear. "I definitely missed you, but attempting to get me excited while I am forced to wear this rigid sports-cup is an incredibly cruel thing to do to your man, right? What happens if I can't give you a child in the future because your little prank damages the goods?"

Tina let out a soft, delighted giggle, her golden eyes sparkling with pure amusement as she leaned her forehead against mine. "Ufufu. Sorry, sorry. I promise I won't tease you anymore then. I definitely would never hear the end of it from Linda if your reproductive abilities got compromised on my watch."

Mercy silently shifted her position on the bench, sliding over to create more comfortable space for Tina in accordance with the established lover pecking order.

In reality, her quick movement was mostly driven by her deep maid instinct to ensure my reproductive health wasn't compromised by the tight pad. I suppressed a smirk, completely keeping the realization to myself that I was just fucking with them; a standard plastic athletic cup wasn't going to do anything to my sperm count.

For the next three hours straight, the competitive rhythm of the tournament became an intense, exhausting routine. We continuously marched out to our designated rings, executed our point-scoring combinations, and returned to the benches to recover until the tournament officials finally announced the midday recess.

With lunch officially called across the arena, a massive wave of thousands of hungry spectators immediately rushed toward the concourse restaurants.

Our small group of five—including James and Ashley—stood up from the risers, turning our backs on the chaotic lines below as we made our way straight toward the upper tiers to enjoy our private, catered meal alongside the rest of my wives.