Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
It is often said that "Double Fists" cannot match four hands. The senior members of the Martial Arts Club may have the strength to overpower their opponents, but unfortunately, the gap in their abilities is not significant enough. No martial art from any country is ordinary; each has its merits. Even though our skills are diverse and profound, capable of countering opponents, the exhaustion of physical strength cannot be ignored.
With numbers several times greater than ours, most new members end up losing or winning only by a narrow margin. This heavy burden naturally falls on the shoulders of the senior members, but how many of them are there?
Many practice martial arts, but few can sustain their training over time and excel at it. With just a dozen or so senior members facing opponents multiple times their number, even if they were to engage in a war of attrition against inexperienced opponents, they would struggle to keep up.
As time passed, the senior members of the Martial Arts Club gradually began to falter. After one elite member fell, Hou Xiaohou stepped forward.
The Martial Arts Club had reached a point where there was no one left to fight. The new members were all injured; forcing them to continue fighting would only worsen their injuries and could even lead to lasting consequences. Each senior member was bruised and battered, their limbs aching and trembling.
At this moment, only Hou Xiaohou remained capable of fighting.
"Hahaha! President Hou, it seems your Martial Arts Club has run out of fighters; do you have to step in personally?" someone laughed as they saw Hou Xiaohou standing in the center of the arena, ready for battle.
Hou Xiaohou's expression remained unchanged; his gaze was firm and his voice resonant. "I can handle you all by myself."
What a bold claim!
"Hmph! President Hou really is quite audacious. I don't know whether to commend your courage or call you arrogant. We still have more than half of our members who haven't fought yet. Do you really think you can defeat everyone, including several presidents, on your own?" said the Judo President with a cold snort.
Hou Xiaohou glanced dismissively at him and replied sternly, "Enough talk; let’s fight."
"Fine! Since you're seeking death, go ahead," the Judo President narrowed his eyes and then called forth a vigorous young man beside him to take the stage.
The young man stood at about six feet tall with a well-proportioned physique—neither overly muscular nor too thin. Compared to the flexibility typically associated with Judo, his build was quite suitable; he was just a bit taller than the standard compact stature expected in Judo practitioners.
The Formidable Young Man stepped forward, looking down at Hou Xiaohou, who was a head shorter than him. With a disdainful gaze, he mocked, "Little baby, why don't you go back and drink some milk? This is an adult's game, and it's very dangerous."
"Hahaha!"
The crowd erupted in laughter, mercilessly mocking him. The members of the Martial Arts Club looked furious; Hou Xiaohou was their acting president, and after President Zhao Xiaolong graduated, he would definitely take over. Mocking him was like mocking them all. They glared angrily, itching to rush in and fight.
Facing the laughter of over a hundred people and the ruthless sarcasm of the Formidable Young Man, Hou Xiaohou remained calm, showing no signs of joy or sorrow. Instead, he composed a poem: "The world laughs at my short stature; I laugh at the world's many opinions. Even if hung upside down with no ink to write, what does it matter if one is tall?"
The meaning was clear: while they laughed at his height, he pointed out their foolishness and idle chatter. Even if they were hung upside down without any knowledge or skills, what good was their height?
They were all college students, and this poem was improvised and easy to understand. Most people were fine with it, but the tall man opposite him turned pale with anger; after all, the poem was clearly aimed at him.
"Hmph! You have quite a way with words; I want to see if your fists are as sharp as your tongue!" The Formidable Young Man snorted coldly and strode forward with long strides. He was contemplating how to make this Shorty feel embarrassed and understand his place.
The opponent approached aggressively, towering over him as if ready to toy with him.
However, was Hou Xiaohou just an acting president for show? Did he earn his reputation without merit? Standing at just over 1.6 meters tall, he had managed to dominate the crowd and reach this position not just through effort or culture; to subdue these brutes required absolute combat strength because martial artists respected strength above all.
"Since you practice Judo, let me show you the softness of Chinese martial arts," Hou Xiaohou said lightly before making his move.
As the Formidable Young Man swung his large hand like a fan, Hou Xiaohou chose close-range combat. He dodged the opponent's hands and broke through his defenses directly. With his right hand's four fingers curled, he struck heavily against the opponent's lower abdomen at the Dantian.
Just as the Formidable Young Man prepared to toy with him further, he suddenly realized that Hou Xiaohou had vanished from his line of sight. Then he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. He tried to defend himself but found that due to his long limbs, when he raised his arms or legs to counterattack, Hou Xiaohou would quickly strike back with either a palm or a kick.
The Formidable Young Man's Judo relied on his unique skills that took advantage of his long limbs and large movements to catch opponents off guard by expanding his attack range. However, in close combat against Hou Xiaohou's short-range strikes, his long arms and legs became fatal weaknesses; he felt powerless as he was completely countered.
"Bang bang!"
With punches and palms coming from various angles, skillfully opening up the limbs of the Formidable Young Man, leaving him only able to passively endure the blows.
"Watch closely, this is Bagua Zhang."
Hou Xiaohou spoke softly, and then his movements accelerated, increasing both the speed and frequency of his attacks. The sound of strikes echoed like firecrackers, relentless and loud. His hands moved so quickly that they left behind afterimages, making it hard for anyone to see clearly.
Bagua Zhang is known for its speed; it focuses on short power. A skilled practitioner can deliver dozens of strikes in a second. Although the power may be somewhat lacking, the high-frequency attacks from Hou Xiaohou would be unbearable even for someone with hard qigong training, let alone the Formidable Young Man who trained in soft techniques. Their judo, which they prided themselves on for its flexibility, had become a fatal flaw.
"Bang bang bang bang!..."
With high-speed attacks, Hou Xiaohou's hands moved as if powered by a motor, like a high-speed machine ruthlessly dismantling and tearing apart his opponent.
"Bang!"
The Formidable Young Man fell heavily to the ground with a dull thud, lying sprawled out in a star shape. His eyes were wide open, having lost consciousness, his mouth agape as he retched repeatedly but could not expel anything.
His pristine white clothing showed a noticeable indentation in his abdomen, about the size of a bowl, deeply wrinkled as if crumpled paper had been squeezed for a long time.
(To be continued.)
Comment 0 Comment Count