"You're studying for the Pokémon PhD now, spitting rhymes like a Chatot?!"
"Heh, new No. 8 masseuse just dropped—fair skin, gorgeous, legs for days, and a chest that makes Teacher Kena look flat. You in or out?"
Jiang Feng's face twitched. You testing a bro like this?!
Which bro could resist that kind of temptation?
Who says no to a No. 8 masseuse who doesn't demand a car, a house, or a dowry?
Work hard by day, splurge by night, but don't bring it home!
Feeling a tug at his leg, Jiang Feng glanced down.
Combusken was clinging to his pants, gesturing wildly, eyes blazing with pure, unfiltered thirst…
Ever since that Pokémon massage session with Wei, Combusken had fallen hard for the headliner, Roserade—lost in her floral charms, a total simp!
Addicted, obsessed, begging for another rubdown.
Jiang Feng's forehead sprouted three black lines. "It's just Roserade, dude. Win the championship, and I'll book you eight to drain you dry!"
This little clucker's got a lifestyle problem!
What kind of MC hits the massage parlor right out the gate? That's just trashing the author's rep!
Since Combusken was so massage-obsessed, Jiang Feng decided to dangle a carrot. "Train hard these next few days. Win the Graduation Tournament, and I'll book you Roserade—ten sessions!"
Combusken: For realz?!
Jiang Feng thumped his chest. "Spikemuth folks don't scam Spikemuth folks!"
One month to go—time to grind hard, shine at the Baby Cup, and secure that waifu priority pass…
Massages? Pfft, am I that guy?
Okay, fine, I am…
But we'll hit the spa after the tournament!
For now, Sword-and-Shield Queen Mali smells way sweeter.
Decision made, Jiang Feng ignored Combusken's longing glances and marched off, resolute.
Gotta eat, then hit Spikemuth Gym for training!
"Firm resolve, unworthy of my schemes!" Wei muttered, annoyed. There was no No. 8 masseuse—it was a ploy to trick Jiang Feng into footing a big bill. But the dude didn't bite!
Fine, back to planning how to get Xiao Li to go straight… er, reform, reform!
Outside the school.
The Chuunibyou Duel Arena—a.k.a. the grove.
Jiang Feng's eyes snapped to the corner, where two figures emerged.
Team Yell, Mali's fan club, here to start trouble?
One was Seaweed, the face-tattooed fangirl.
Next to her? A beefy dude—Fat Tiger, Team Yell's deputy commander!
In the games, Team Yell was a bunch of scrubs, weak as a Magikarp out of water.
But IRL? Fat Tiger was a top-tier student, a beast in battle.
His ace? A Serperior with the Contrary ability.
Contrary: Boosts the chance of move side effects triggering.
Signature move: Ancient Power, rumored to be Master-tier, paired with Contrary for a ridiculous proc rate.
His go-to strategy? Defensive counterattacks. The longer the fight, the stronger he got—Spikemuth's unbreakable shield!
These two blocking his path? Bad vibes incoming.
Jiang Feng's brow furrowed. He subtly slid behind Old Man Han.
Outnumbered, outgunned. As the ancient Chinese saying goes: wise men know when to dip!
Jiang Feng was ready to sneak attack, bolt, or snitch to the cops…
But Fat Tiger's next words nearly made his jaw hit the floor.
"Jiang Feng, when you popping the question to Mali?"
"Say what?!"
"Marriage?!"
Jiang Feng's face screamed WTF.
This script ain't what I signed up for!
What's with Team Yell?
This the Pokémon world's villain glow-up? The art of being extra?
One kiss, and these brain-dead stans are shipping their queen to his doorstep, planning the wedding?!
Love it, love it.
But marriage? Nah, never gonna happen—not in this lifetime.
The Pokémon world's got too many waifus—gorgeous, sweet-voiced, talented babes. Why settle for one tree when you've got a whole forest?
With the Sea King System in his pocket?
Forgive my wild, untamed heart… I'm a free man!
Mali's a fine tree, sure, but he's a dude—eyes always wandering to the next pot.
Three thousand rivers, and I'm supposed to sip just one? I'm thirsty—gimme a few scoops!
"What, you're not ready to tie the knot?" Fat Tiger scratched his head, then added, "Eh, Mali's still young, and she hasn't snagged that championship yet. We'll talk later."
Bro, you're kinda chill!
Jiang Feng touched his face. Yup, too handsome—prime soft-rice-eating material.
Team Yell's practically begging him to take Mali!
Fat Tiger glanced at Combusken, yawning at Jiang Feng's feet. "But right now? You're too weak for Mali. You'd just drag her down from winning that crown!"
Seaweed chimed in, all fire: "Yeah, this punk's a total scrub—not even fit to polish Miss Mali's boots!"
"She must've been out of her mind to fall for him!"
"Dudes just slow her championship grind!"
Fat Tiger waved her off. "You can tell Mali's into you—why else would she drop three grand to sponsor your broke ass?"
Jiang Feng's mouth twitched. Why's that sound so weird?
Like he's actually a kept man… which, okay, is true…
"Prove yourself in one month at the Graduation Tournament. Show me your chops."
"If you can't even beat me… you ain't got what it takes to help Mali win."
"Weaklings don't get to travel. Stay home and change diapers."
Stay home and change diapers?!Damn, that's cold-blooded!
Killing his travel dreams like that?
A real man's gotta see the world while he's young—how else will he navigate food delivery routes later?
And making him a trophy husband?!
Your boy's got 18 centimeters of pride—where's my dignity?!
No way, José!
Jiang Feng's throwing down the gauntlet, planting a flag: I'd rather die than be a kept man!
Even if he's eating soft rice, it's gonna be hard-earned!
"Tiger Bro, one month? This benchwarmer catching up to you? That's wild!" Seaweed scoffed.
"No biggie. If he's got no game, he can play stay-at-home dad."
"What if Mali's being played? This slick-talker's all flash and no substance!"
"Nah, Miss Mali's cool-headed, sharp as a Tackle. No one's fooling her."
Cool-headed? Sharp?
Your girl ain't that bright… kinda ditzy, actually.
Or maybe the ultimate hunter hides as the prey?
Jiang Feng's gut tingled, glancing at a rooftop where a shadowy punk girl stood against the wind.
"What if he's weak and ditches her?" Seaweed asked.
"No sweat, I'll handle it," Fat Tiger said.
"Pretty boy like him? Ship him to the Fusang League to play escort—he'd fetch a nice price."
"Let the senseis there drain him dry."
The two yapped away like Jiang Feng wasn't even there, making him break out in a cold sweat.
Senseis? Yo, I got a friend who's curious…
Finally, Fat Tiger tossed out a Poké Ball, summoning a massive Serperior—four or five meters long!
Its hulking size and menacing aura turned heads.
Serperior, a snake-like Pokémon with a yellow body, blue underbelly, and blue-cream striped back. Three spikes on its chin, lidded eyes, and wings on each segment.
Most Serperior have two segments—Fat Tiger's was a rare three-segment beast.
Jiang Feng's Aura senses screamed: this thing was leagues above Combusken.
Show-off move, huh?
Frowning, Jiang Feng watched Fat Tiger, Seaweed, and their snake slither off.
That size alone screamed years of training. Combusken didn't stand a chance right now.
Lose, and he's off to be an escort?
Harsh, bro!
A chill ran down his spine.
Then, a fiery rage surged in his cluck-clucks.
I make my own fate… fine, three grand it is!
With his skills, he'd be a top-tier escort king anyway!
"Tiger Bro, Miss Mali's funding him and telling us to scare him? What's her deal?" Seaweed scratched her head, lost in Mali's brain maze.
"Dunno."
"Don't ask what you shouldn't."
"Girls' hearts? Don't even try guessing."