The crowd could tell these two big shots were really going at it today, and naturally, they were thrilled to watch the drama unfold. There were only about fifty or sixty guests at the party, but more than half had gathered to watch, cheering and egging them on. The commotion was so intense that even those who didn't join in couldn't help but pay attention from afar. Even someone who had been quietly holed up on the third floor pushed open the door to silently watch what was happening in the villa's first-floor hall.
The area was cleared in an instant. An international standard dartboard was hung on the wall, and Zhu Ming weighed a big handful of darts in his hand. He was never all that scheming to begin with, and though his rational mind kept reminding him to put on a show and remember his purpose, he couldn't help but let his face twist with annoyance.
"Jack Young, if we're going to play, let's make it interesting." Zhu Ming's emotions started to slip, and he challenged with a hint of menace: "Let's make a bet—whoever loses has to drop their pants in front of everyone. How about it? Dare or not!" He got more and more worked up as he spoke, and by the end, his "dare or not" was practically a roar.
His outburst made the few sober people nearby frown. It was just a party, and things seemed to be getting out of hand. But with most folks just tipsy enough to be excited, faces flushed and brains buzzing, nobody cared about that—instead, they started shouting and cheering even louder.
"Drop your pants in public?" Jack Young couldn't help but laugh. "Hey, this isn't me setting you up—you're digging your own hole and jumping in! If you're that eager to play, fine, let's bet."
"Whoa—!" Screams erupted like a tidal wave, so loud that even the listeners in the coffee shop couldn't help but wince and pull their headphones away.
Neither Jack Young nor Zhu Ming really knew the official rules, but nobody cared about that—they just went with the simplest, most brutal way to play. Each person got ten darts, and they'd both throw at the same target. Whoever scored higher won. Jack Young took the darts, flipped and tossed them a bit to get a feel, then started spinning them like a pen. The long darts whirled around his fingers and knuckles, circling smoothly without a hitch.
Just that little display was enough to get the crowd applauding. But they didn't realize Jack Young was just getting used to the dart's balance and material—like tuning an instrument before a performance. For Jack, something this simple was easy to master with a quick touch, but spinning it around all five fingers was actually him being extra cautious—after all, the loser had to drop their pants, and even if you act polite or shed crocodile tears, you still gotta show some respect, right?
Smack—Jack Young caught the spinning dart in his hand and flashed a confident, easy smile. "Alright, let's get started."
Zhu Ming's pupils shrank—he sensed something beyond what he'd expected. But now, there was no turning back. He had to win, no matter what! "Nano Core—Aiming System, activate!" Zhu Ming's vision changed in a strange way. Just like playing CS, a crosshair appeared in his view. But unlike the game, this crosshair even showed the exact landing spot, with different info depending on the distance.
With that crosshair, plus the trajectory assist, running both abilities at once was a heavy load for him. But the results? Absolutely outstanding!
"Bullseye!" Whoosh—the dart in Zhu Ming's hand shot out and thudded into the board, landing solidly in the 60-point zone (note: international dartboards have different rules than ten-ring targets). "Whew..." Zhu Ming let out a silent sigh of relief. No matter what, nobody's perfect, but he could be. Dart throwing demands stability, and as long as he didn't mess up, he'd definitely win!
But that confidence started to waver as soon as Jack Young began throwing his darts.
He didn't show off any outrageous tricks—stuff like hitting the bullseye from fifty meters away was not something to display in front of a crowd. He was rational enough for that. He just stood at the same distance as Zhu Ming and threw normally. But each throw was flawless. Thwack, thwack, thwack—dart after dart stuck in the highest scoring zone, a smile playing on his lips and confidence radiating from him.
The momentum shifted. Zhu Ming still didn't miss a single dart and got plenty of screams, but his face grew darker. After all, how big was the 60-point zone? Not nearly enough space for both of their darts. Judging by the pace, the first one forced out of the 60-point zone would be him!
No wonder he was getting anxious.
Of course, he wasn't the only one who noticed. Plenty of others saw it too. They sighed, saying Zhu Ming had the advantage but lost the initiative—he'd probably lose this round by a hair. Lots of people heard these comments, including a teenage boy in the crowd. He glanced at the grim-faced Zhu Ming, then looked down at his own hand. Biting his lip in hesitation, he finally raised his hand and aimed at Jack Young.
He took a deep breath, focused his mind, and activated his superpower!
Whoosh—Jack Young's dart sliced through the air toward the board. The dart was still mid-flight when Jack frowned. Others couldn't see what was happening in that split second, but Jack saw it clearly. The dart's trajectory was off.
Thunk—the dart hit the board, and the whole place erupted. This throw was off, veering from the top 60-point zone to the upper right. It ended up in the 1-point zone, the lowest possible score.
"Whoa—!" Everyone started shouting. Watching two legends go head-to-head was thrilling, but nothing beat a sudden twist like this. From 60 points to 1 point—that's a 59-point swing! And—thunk, Zhu Ming's dart landed right in the 60-point zone—yep, now that area was completely full.
One mistake led to another, and with how both sides were playing, it looked like Jack Young was doomed to lose.
(This chapter isn't over yet~.~, please click next page to keep reading the good stuff!)
"Ah—! How could he lose? I bet three grand on him!" wailed a man who'd put money on Jack.
"Strip, strip, strip! Forget the rest of the game—just take 'em off now!" shouted a woman, eyes sparkling with excitement.
Meanwhile, Zhu Ming's face twisted into something close to a grin.
But even with disaster striking, Jack Young stayed calm. He wiped the smile from his face and glanced at the crowd, his gaze landing right on that teenage boy. With his golden vision, Jack could see a crude black Boundary Mark on the kid. The boy noticed Jack looking at him, flinched for a second, then glared back, his eyes full of smugness—like, "Yeah, I messed with you, so what!"
"Oh, so that's telekinesis?" Cobra watched the boy with interest. "Looks like it could be promising. When people talk about superpowers, telekinesis is always the first thing that comes to mind. But if your output's too low, it's not worth much. Start capturing the trace and analyzing the parameters."
"Yes, sir!" His subordinates got busy right away, pulling up the trajectory from Jack Young's last throw and diving into a full analysis.
But Cobra turned his gaze to Jack Young, muttering with interest, "Can you keep your cool in the face of all this?"
Can he keep his cool?
Of course he can.
Because this really wasn't that hard to handle.
"Your turn." Zhu Ming looked at Jack Young like he was a wounded beast, his eyes full of gloating and barely contained malice. He deliberately raised his voice: "What, thinking of giving up? Honestly, admitting defeat isn't so bad. I mean, real men should keep their word, but since we're 'friends,' I won't force you to drop your pants—hahaha!"
Everyone heard that, and the place erupted with laughter. But a few in the crowd frowned. These were older Chosen Ones who'd come to watch, keeping their distance from Zhu Ming—unlike that teenage boy—and just observing for now. They didn't feel any sympathy for Jack Young, but Zhu Ming's behavior didn't match the sunny, big-brother image he'd built online.
In the eye of the storm, Jack Young stayed calm. He weighed the darts in his hand—four left. He seemed to think for a moment, then raised his hand and kept throwing.
Whoosh—this one flew toward the second-highest, the 57-point zone. The teenage boy reached out again, and the dart veered off midair, landing in the 3-point zone.
"Ha!" Zhu Ming couldn't help laughing, tossing his own dart right into the 57-point zone, widening the gap again.
Jack Young didn't react and threw his third-to-last dart. The boy raised his hand again—another 3 points for Jack, 57 for Zhu Ming. Amid a chorus of sighs, Jack kept going and threw his second-to-last dart. This time it actually landed in the 57-point zone, but it was too little, too late.
While the darts were flying, someone in the coffee bar reported, "Sir, we've analyzed the target. Based on his performance, his telekinesis isn't very strong. By our provisional rating, it's a 'Weak E' class—about enough to make an empty glass float."
"Hmm, this little brat's powers may be weak, but telekinesis has a big reputation. Maybe there's some potential, so mark him as a 'Weak D' class target." Cobra stroked his chin, staring at the screen. After a moment's thought, he suddenly gave a sly smile and pointed at Jack Young: "Oh, and mark this guy as 'Strong B' for now."
"Strong B?" His subordinate was shocked. In their department's provisional rating system, B class was already pretty powerful. "Sir, Zhu Ming is only 'Weak B,' and this guy... he hasn't shown any powers at all. Isn't 'Strong B' a bit much?"
"Zhu Ming? He shouldn't even be B class, but I figured he's just so weak B, I put him in 'Weak B.'"
"Uh..." The whole team was speechless. Their boss's twisted sense of humor left them at a loss. "So, sir, marking this guy as 'Strong B' isn't just..."
"Heh, it's not just me being random." Cobra studied Jack Young's face. There was thoughtfulness, sudden realization, steady confidence—but not a hint of panic. So Cobra narrowed his eyes: "This guy's superpower might be mental. I have a feeling those last three throws weren't random at all."
In the villa's first-floor hall—smack! Zhu Ming's last dart hit the 57-point zone. Six in the 60-point zone, four in the 57. Pretty much a perfect finish. As for Jack Young, he had one in the 1-point zone and two in the 3-point zone. The gap was huge. He still had one dart left, but everyone knew he was done for. After all night, Zhu Ming finally grinned, thinking this was the best moment of the evening. He clapped Jack Young on the shoulder and raised his voice: "Brother Jack, it's fine—win or lose, that's life! A man's word is his bond, but I'd never make you drop your pants!"
Right on cue, a few planted shills piped up: "Ming's a real man! But Jack, you can't chicken out either. If I were you, I'd just take 'em off myself and show everyone what you're made of! Ladies, wanna see?" "We do—!" The place erupted in screams, and Zhu Ming was riding high.
But then he frowned, because Jack Young turned to look at him. On Jack's face, Zhu Ming couldn't find any fear, embarrassment, panic, or even anger—none of the reactions he wanted. Instead, there was a mysterious, unshakable confidence that was almost blinding.
Instantly, Zhu Ming's temper flared—What are you so confident about? What right do you have to act so calm? Who gave you permission to wear that winner's look? That look is for the victor, you bastard!
Jack Young spoke up, looking right at Zhu Ming, and said with a double meaning, "Zhu Ming, borrowed things are still borrowed. Without a foundation, it all ends up empty."
"What do you mean?" Zhu Ming frowned. Borrowed? That word made his heart skip—a little uneasy.
Jack Young didn't answer. He just chuckled, shook his head, and looked at the target. He slowly channeled his Mingyu Skill's internal energy into the dart, his eyes shining. Those last three throws really weren't random. While Cobra's team was only evaluating the kid's telekinetic output, Jack had already used three different techniques to gather far more detailed info: maximum output, peak and base values, activation frequency, response time, and more.
If that telekinesis were a CPU, Cobra's team could only say, "Oh, it's a Core processor." But Jack could list out the specs—clock speed, turbo boost, bus frequency, pin count, and everything else. With all that intel, he couldn't guarantee victory against every telekinetic, but this particular kid was no longer a problem.
If the kid's not a problem, then what is? Nothing!
If he didn't have internal energy, maybe there'd be trouble. But with forty years of cultivation, this scene was no big deal!
Whoosh—Jack Young threw his dart with total confidence, not a hint of hesitation. Even with everyone shouting, they couldn't help but focus on the result. The kid sneered and raised his hand: "Didn't learn your lesson, huh!" But in the next instant, his face changed—he couldn't catch this one. Telekinesis is like a muscle, and he'd used it four times; now it was worn out. Plus, Jack's dart was too fast and forceful—he didn't have time to mess with it.
Smack—the dart landed dead center in the bullseye. Even with instruments, you couldn't find a more perfect hit. Even though Jack was losing, people still clapped for that beautiful throw.
"Hmph, so what? You're still out of luck!"
But just as everyone was thinking that, the next moment—crash! One dart that had been stuck in the board suddenly shook loose and fell with a thud.
"Eh?!" Everyone stared wide-eyed. "What's going on...?"
Smack, smack, crash—in front of everyone's stunned eyes, and Cobra's silent, wild laughter, dart after dart dropped off the board, clattering to the floor.
"This—this can't be happening!" It was like the darts were stuck in drywall from a shoddy construction job; one big shake and they all came crashing down. Everyone was frozen in disbelief. What they didn't realize was that Jack Young had infused that last dart with both a mechanical wave and internal energy vibrations. The mechanical wave loosened the board's material in an instant, and the ripple of internal energy slipped in, shaking all the darts free.
Acquired internal energy is still acquired—it's not subtle enough to pick targets, especially after leaving the body, so it just sweeps everything away. When the dust settled, the jaw-dropping result was clear: only one dart remained on the board! Except for Jack's final bullseye, every other dart had fallen out!
Zhu Ming's score? Zero.
"Aaaahhh—!!" Amid a sea of screams, the burly white guy clutched his head, yelling "Holy shit!" The black dude with the afro burst out with wild freestyle rapping. "Doesn't count! This doesn't count! Ming won!" someone shouted, but their voice was drowned out in the chaos. Everyone was waving, howling, and finally turned their shouts into rhythmic applause.
At the center of the applause, Jack Young suddenly snapped his fingers. Something magical happened—everyone who'd been hyped up just seconds before instantly quieted down. Jack lowered his hand and patted Zhu Ming's shoulder, speaking in a clear, steady voice: "Zhu Ming, it's fine—win or lose, that's life. A man's word is his bond, but I'd never make you drop your pants."
Jack patted his shoulder, then pointed to someone in the crowd: "But this bro here seems to really appreciate guts—he was shouting the loudest just now. Don't worry, I can help you apologize to him. Just say the word—" He leaned in and whispered two words in Zhu Ming's ear: "Admit defeat."
The guy in the crowd shrank back in shock, while Zhu Ming looked absolutely awful. At this point, nobody cared about status or reputation anymore. Somewhere, someone started the chant, and soon the whole room was shouting, "Strip! Strip! Strip!" loud enough to blow the roof off. Zhu Ming's eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Jack, speechless.
What could he say? He'd made the bet, he'd talked big, and now the chants of "Strip! Strip!" were aimed right at him. Unlike the earlier drinking contest, this time he couldn't run, couldn't find an excuse. He couldn't bring himself to admit defeat, but he didn't have the guts of the Four Rogues—those guys weren't afraid of anything, not even embarrassment. He was stuck, frozen, with no way out.
He was surrounded on all sides, with nothing but shouts of "Strip! Strip!" closing in.