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"Ha!" The young man took his stance, looking fierce, and shouted loudly, causing the timid opponent across from him to feel a bit scared.
The Taekwondo opponent, on the other hand, looked half-dead, with heavy dark circles under his eyes and a lack of energy. He casually struck a pose but nearly tripped over himself. After a struggle, he managed to stand up, but he appeared weak and unsteady, making it seem like he could fall at any moment.
Looking at this frail figure, almost no one believed in him. They thought he might get knocked out with just one punch; he looked far too weak. They really couldn't understand why Taekwondo would accept such a Member or why they would send him into the ring, fearing he might get seriously hurt.
Despite their doubts, the match was about to begin. If they were to switch players now, they would surely be mocked for being afraid. Whatever the case, if they were willing to risk it, then so be it. Hou Xiaohou waved his hand and said in a deep voice, "The match begins."
With the command given, the pent-up energy of the Martial Arts Club Member erupted as he shouted and charged forward with great momentum. His fists were clenched tightly, exuding power as he resembled a fierce tiger descending from the mountain.
The Tiger Fist technique was clearly mastered by this young man.
"Bang!" With one punch thrown, the Slim Young Man fell to the ground.
This... is it over?
It was expected yet surprising. Even though they had anticipated this outcome, they still couldn't adjust to the sudden knockout; it felt like the match had just begun but had already ended.
"Hehe, we won! I really don't know why they sent such a frail guy," an excited Martial Arts Club member exclaimed.
However, as the referee, Hou Xiaohou did not announce the result of the match. Instead, he wore a gloomy expression while watching the arena. This left others puzzled; they didn't understand why he wouldn't quickly declare such an obvious result. But since he didn't say anything, they didn't ask either. The members of the Martial Arts Club were family, while members of other clubs were rivals; since their opponent wasn't rushing to announce it, they were happy to wait.
"Did we just lose?" A Taekwondo Club member looked incredulous and felt embarrassed.
However, a Senior Member scoffed and said nonchalantly, "Hey! You know what? Just watch closely; this sickly guy is actually quite impressive."
In the arena, the victorious Martial Arts Club Youth showed no signs of excitement. Although they had indeed landed a hit on their opponent, there was a lingering feeling of incompleteness, as if they had punched into cotton.
After about four or five seconds, the Slim Young Man, who had been lying on the ground, slowly struggled to stand up. He wobbled as he got up, looking as if he might fall again at any moment. He still appeared half-dead, but there were no visible injuries or bruises. The Martial Arts Club youth's earlier punch had considerable force and had struck the Face; typically, someone would lose a few teeth or at least show some marks. Yet the Slim Young Man looked just as he did before, merely with some dust on his clothes.
"Something is definitely off," those who observed closely immediately sensed something unusual.
However, most people remained puzzled and failed to notice anything amiss. They simply thought that the Slim Young Man was overestimating himself; even if he stood up, he was still going to get beaten. Rather than facing his opponent head-on, it would be better for him to admit defeat and save himself some pain. No one had high hopes for him anyway; losing wouldn’t be embarrassing.
The Slim Young Man remained silent, standing up weakly and swaying slightly as he assumed a stance. His lifeless eyes stared blankly at his opponent, as if he were already lost in another world.
The Martial Arts Club youth frowned. Trained in Tiger Fist, he was taught to advance fearlessly and not to retreat. No matter what was wrong with the opponent, he could simply knock him down with a punch; once defeated, what tricks could he still pull?
"Ha!" With a loud shout, he crossed his arms and threw another punch. This time the Taekwondo youth managed to dodge slightly, feeling the punch graze past his nose.
But martial arts techniques are all about chaining moves together seamlessly. Even though he was surprised that the punch missed, he continued with the next move—stepping forward half a step and delivering an elbow strike that slammed hard into the Slim Young Man's head.
"Bang!"
As expected, with such a powerful blow aimed at the Face, the Slim Young Man fell heavily to the ground and bounced slightly upon impact due to the force.
"It's over!" This was the sentiment of the vast majority of onlookers.
The elbow strike was powerful enough to shatter a brick, let alone the fragile head of a person. After being struck with such force, a concussion would be the least of the concerns.
However, after about five or six breaths, the Slim Young Man still struggled to get back up. His swaying body, weak steps, feeble movements, and vacant gaze were all the same as before. There were no visible injuries on his Face; it was just a bit disheveled.
The Martial Arts Club Youth frowned but did not hesitate. Like a fierce tiger descending a mountain, he charged forward with a series of attacks: a knee strike, an elbow strike, and a side kick.
As expected, the Slim Young Man fell to the ground once more. Yet, to everyone's astonishment, he stood up again after a few breaths, showing no signs of injury. Aside from some wrinkles and dust on his clothes and his slightly messy hairstyle, everything seemed normal, as if he had simply tripped.
His expression showed no change; there was no angry roar, no fierce glare, and not even a groan or wail from pain. He maintained an unchanging demeanor, resembling a lifeless face—spiritless and half-dead.
At this point, people began to take notice. Despite enduring repeated heavy blows, he stood up as if nothing had happened. Even those with thick skin could sense something was off; their gazes towards him carried a hint of seriousness.
Looking at his opponent standing once again before him, the Martial Arts Club Youth snorted coldly to himself, "Hmph! Playing tricks? No matter what strange abilities you have, since you can take hits, I'll make sure you can't take care of yourself!"
With determination in his heart, the youth stepped forward and threw a punch that barely missed his opponent. A Left Hook followed; the opponent ducked just in time to evade it. An Uppercut! Again dodged.
Each time, the punches were fierce and should have landed on him, yet he narrowly avoided them by mere inches.
Straight Punches and hooks came in various combinations and styles; almost every variation was attempted. However, no matter how fierce the punches were or how fast they came, in the end, they only stirred a strand of hair on the youth's head.
(To be continued.)
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