Chapter 118: The Irreconcilable Gap of Weight

“This man’s strength might break some world records,” Zhang Jinchuan said. “Forget weightlifting—take the 100-meter sprint. The current world record is 9.58 seconds. But that’s without using stimulants or banned substances. Nowadays, there are plenty of enhancers without side effects. Who knows how fast and strong someone could become on them?”

On the surface, Olympic world records seem unbreakable. But with performance enhancers, shattering them becomes almost effortless.

Zhang Manman knew this as well. The reason the Olympics banned stimulants was because otherwise, everyone would be competing on drugs, and the entire meaning of sports would collapse.

Earlier generations of performance enhancers had harmful side effects. But with advances in science, she knew that many research institutions had already eliminated those side effects, turning them into something like health supplements. They simply remained prohibited in sporting events.

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And now, this Daru—just one look was enough to tell he was a user. Otherwise, how could someone with such massive size still maintain that kind of agility?

There were agile fat men in reality, but Daru was a giant who moved like one.

Zhang Jinchuan and Zhang Manman exchanged words here and there, but in truth, they were subtly reminding Su Jie to be cautious, to shape his strategy based on Daru’s physique and fighting style, so as to avoid defeat.

Su Jie stood up and stripped off his shirt, revealing a solid, powerful body.

Ever since he had cultivated the Thirteen Protectors’ Golden Bell Iron Shirt Dragon-Tiger Vajra Qi Gong, his physique had undergone a profound change.

The bulky muscle mass had receded, replaced by a steady increase of fat, which gradually layered over his muscles. His body fat percentage had risen. From the outside, he looked like someone who had slacked off in training. But he knew that this state was actually the healthiest and most resilient against blows.

On the surface, he appeared closer to an ordinary person. One could no longer tell he was a practitioner. Yet his muscles had not diminished; instead, under neural control, they had become softer, more elastic, more alive.

Moreover, the fat on his body was evenly distributed, without the usual clumps.

Ordinary people who neglected training and gained weight would rapidly accumulate fat around the belly and thighs. Su Jie’s fat, however, spread evenly like a thin membrane covering his body. Soft to the touch, it could absorb tremendous impact, while also being finer and more sensitive.

Even so, compared to Daru, he seemed far inferior.

Su Jie’s build—185 cm tall, 85 kg in weight, with a wingspan longer than most—looked impressive among ordinary people. But against Daru—2 meters tall, weighing over 150 kg—the contrast was like child versus adult.

Daru was nearly twice his size.

“This is an unfair contest…” General Awasi said with interest. “Strictly speaking, in combat sports, this violates the spirit of fairness. But Chinese Martial Art always speaks of ‘the weak overcoming the strong,’ of ‘four ounces moving a thousand pounds.’ Wouldn’t you agree? Daru is my most powerful warrior, trained in gladiatorial combat. The scars on his body testify to his valor. Why don’t we place a wager, and see who wins?”

When he said “the weak overcoming the strong” and “four ounces moving a thousand pounds,” his Chinese pronunciation was so mangled that Zhang Manman and Zhang Jinchuan needed a moment to understand him.

“General, Martial Art doesn’t glorify weakness overcoming strength,” Zhang Jinchuan replied. “Weakness is weakness. Strength is strength. We say: first courage, second strength, third skill. No matter the situation, raw power always comes first.”

“Not necessarily,” Awasi countered. “Add knives or guns to the fight, and speed becomes decisive. Smaller fighters would even have the advantage. But today, it’s pure hand-to-hand combat.”

Zhang Jinchuan paused—momentarily thrown off by the general’s rebuttal.

Indeed, if it were knives or swords, no one could say for sure whether big or small builds had the upper hand. There wasn’t enough modern data, and no one could conduct such experiments. But with guns in jungle warfare, the smaller, more agile fighter with a smaller target profile certainly held the advantage.

“Let’s begin.”

The living room was spacious, more than enough for Daru and Su Jie to fight barehanded.

The two squared off. Daru slapped his chest in salute.

Su Jie clasped his fists and bowed.

Each had his own ritual. This was not life-or-death—only friendly sparring.

Boom!

The moment the salute ended, Daru lunged forward.

Su Jie’s vision darkened—the man’s massive figure rushed at him like a bear, yet without any clumsiness. He was astonishingly nimble, his footwork light and sliding forward like a dancer’s moonwalk.

‘This guy could do parkour,'

Su Jie thought. He had never seen such an agile giant.

As Daru closed in, his fist was already arcing toward Su Jie’s face.

In that instant, Su Jie could have ducked and slipped inside. But he made a split-second judgment: doing so risked miscalculating the distance, because Daru’s reach was enormous.

Worse, it felt like Daru had deliberately set a trap, luring him into a pocket.

Judgment was everything. Beginners lacked it—once a fight started, they lost their heads, flailing wildly. Slightly better fighters understood advancing, retreating, defending, dodging, counterattacking—but their sense of distance and direction was imprecise. Stronger fighters controlled all that well, knowing exactly when to strike and which style to use against which opponent.

Su Jie stood above even that—able to anticipate his opponent, making the most correct choice in a flash.

He slid back, then darted sideways, refusing to take the bait.

Daru’s eyes narrowed. His next punch blasted forth like a cannon, full of ferocity.

Su Jie kept dodging, not engaging head-on. He felt transported back to his early days at Minglun Martial Arts Academy, when he fought in small ring matches—running evasively against strong opponents, buying time. He hadn’t fought like this in ages. Ever since his Martial Art matured, he had always gone in hard—taking punches head-on and slapping opponents down.

But now, he had shifted styles again, relying on his smaller frame and agility, refusing to clash directly.

After several failed attacks, Daru saw Su Jie darting about like a mouse. Yet he showed no irritation. Instead, his eyes grew colder—until they became utterly emotionless.

Su Jie sensed the change and shivered inwardly.

The man’s size wasn’t the true terror. The terrifying part was his complete lack of emotional fluctuation—remaining calm, analyzing every move, never influenced by environment or by the opponent’s mentality.

This was the product of countless life-and-death battles. Without calm, he would have died long ago.

Sensing Su Jie’s fleeting shock, Daru spread his arms wide, enlarging his coverage. His feet shifted like a storm wind, sweeping forward in a net-like encirclement.

Such movements were almost unheard of in striking combat—leaving the centerline wide open, as if begging to be attacked. Only in wrestling or sumo would someone engage this way.

Yet Daru did exactly that—closing on Su Jie with a massive embrace, ignoring his own exposed center.

Su Jie charged forward suddenly, as if to pierce straight through the middle and see what trick Daru was playing. But Daru didn’t react, pressing ahead as though he meant to crush a bayonet with his chest.

At the last moment, Su Jie braked hard and darted away again.

His earlier charge had been a feint—a probe to test Daru’s response. But Daru had given none at all, continuing steadily on course.

Such a person was either a clueless rookie—or a master so deep that nothing external could sway him, one who calculated everything.

Clearly, Daru was the latter.

‘This man’s reflexes, speed, calculation, mental toughness, and composure—all at the highest level. What a nightmare to face.'

Su Jie felt a stab of helplessness. The man was like a giant turtle: an impenetrable shell, yet moving as fast as a mouse.

Through his tests, Su Jie saw that Daru’s speed was slightly inferior to his own, but not by much—not enough to be kited around.

In boxing, there was the “pirate style,” where the faster but lighter fighter danced around, striking and retreating until cumulative damage forced surrender.

But Daru’s enormous reach nullified that.

Every time Su Jie tried to slip in with a counter, he realized that Daru’s long arms could always intercept—and even put him at a disadvantage.

‘If this man were my weight, his speed would surpass mine,'

Su Jie thought grimly.

‘Terrifying. Someone like Zhou Chun wouldn’t last ten seconds against him.'

First courage, second strength, third skill.

On courage and psychological resilience, Su Jie realized Daru was unshakable. He had seen too much life and death. Even if a blade pierced his eye, he might not even blink. He was a true “iron man.” In this, Su Jie was at a disadvantage.

On strength, there was no comparison.

On skill—an amalgam of qualities and technique—Daru again held the edge. His real combat experience far exceeded Su Jie’s.

‘So where is my advantage?'

Su Jie thought as he dodged.

‘First, I’m younger. Second, he’s suffered countless injuries—no matter how strong, a body of flesh and blood cannot be flawless. Third, my speed is a touch faster—as long as I stay beyond his reach, I may find chances. Fourth, my smaller size makes me a smaller, more agile target. I must exploit that to the extreme…'