Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
I didn't expect Old Bi to see me coming and, looking at Jing's back, said, "Hey, getting a bit too familiar, aren't we? Would she even come to watch the match without us?" I took it as Old Bi's hurried attempt to ease my embarrassment.
"Save it. Jing and I never had anything going on. Don't joke around in the future!" I replied sternly and walked through the entrance.
Once inside, the first match quickly began. I glanced around and saw Jing standing alone in a corner. I couldn't be bothered to explain things to her; it wasn't that I was selfish, but I believed that for a soldier, everything could be compromised except for honor and responsibility.
I figured Shen Han would understand that too! The first match for the Equipment Group was between the Cultural Instructor and Shen Han. After Jing's commotion that morning, I was genuinely curious to see how Shen Han would perform compared to me. I focused intently on the situation in the arena.
Shen Han still wore that wooden expression, casually entering the arena with his fine steel gun. Wait, hadn't he drunk too much last night? Why did he seem unchanged? To my surprise, after the whistle blew, the Cultural Instructor chose not to initiate an attack as I had expected.
To win with a short weapon, one must engage in close combat; what was the Cultural Instructor thinking?
It seemed Shen Han underestimated him as well. After a brief standoff, Shen Han took the initiative to attack first.
Holding the Fine Tube Gun in his right hand, Shen Han stepped forward and thrust toward the Cultural Instructor's chest. The Cultural Instructor kept his eyes fixed on Shen Han's gun barrel and at the last moment, sidestepped sharply to avoid the thrust. Immediately afterward, he powered forward with his legs and lunged with his right hand wielding an Emei Dagger toward Shen Han's left shoulder with incredible speed. It appeared that the Cultural Instructor was waiting for Shen Han to make his move before counterattacking, aiming to close in on him because Shen Han's moves were predictable. Any adjustment on Shen Han's part would take time, and by then, the Cultural Instructor would already be upon him, rendering Shen Han's Fine Tube Gun ineffective for defense.
I noticed a flicker of surprise in Shen Han's eyes; it seemed he had also recognized how fast the Cultural Instructor was. I could bet that back then, Five Master was even quicker than the Cultural Instructor. If Five Master had wielded an Emei Dagger instead of a Bayonet—an inherently more lethal weapon—I might not have been able to evade him. It was precisely because I knew that being hit by a Bayonet would result in severe injury or death that I tapped into my potential and fought back against Five Master.
Seeing that Shen Han couldn't retract his gun in time to evade the Cultural Instructor's attack, he suddenly kicked out with his left foot. Due to the Cultural Instructor's momentum, he didn't fully connect with the kick but managed to strike his thigh instead. This slowed down the Cultural Instructor just enough for Shen Han to take a step back while his right hand quickly thrust forward again.
This time he aimed for the Cultural Instructor's right shoulder. Despite being kicked, the Cultural Instructor couldn't withdraw his hand in time; he still thrust forward with his Emei Dagger. The move was too predictable; there was no time for him to change tactics now—this thrust would likely land squarely on his shoulder.
What a remarkable Cultural Instructor! In that instant, he suddenly crouched down and rolled forward, closing in on Shen Han before even standing up. His left hand drove the Emei Dagger toward Shen Han's thigh!
Shen Han had just taken a step back to create distance for defense with his Fine Tube Gun when he realized that the Cultural Instructor seemed determined to close in like a martial artist rolling on the ground, continuously reducing the distance between them while stabbing at Shen Han’s legs and body with both hands wielding Emei Daggers.
Old Bi suddenly exclaimed, "They're about to reach the boundary!"
I quickly looked over; indeed, behind Shen Han was the boundary net—if he retreated any further, it would mean defeat!
At that moment, I saw Shen Han let out a loud shout and leap into the air. I was startled; most people could only jump about fifty or sixty centimeters off the ground at most. But Shen Han curled up and jumped at least a meter high! As I watched closely, he simultaneously thrust both hands downwards with his gun aimed at the Cultural Instructor’s shoulder!
The Cultural Instructor was crouched on the ground and had no way to block this attack; he could only continue rolling forward to avoid it.
By the time Shen Han landed, they had switched positions—now it was the Cultural Instructor on the ground facing the boundary net while Shen Han approached from behind with both hands holding his gun ready to strike again.
It was too late to turn back; I could only shift my position slightly to the side. In that instant, Shen Han's gun barrel jabbed into the Cultural Instructor's right shoulder, and the whistle blew—Shen Han had won!
Shen Han put away the gun, and the Cultural Instructor stood up dejectedly. I couldn't help but be surprised; after all, the Cultural Instructor had shown no signs of distress. It was clear that Shen Han had controlled the force of his strike perfectly.
This indicated that Shen Han calculated each move carefully. It seemed he was indeed a formidable opponent, and I couldn't help but pay him more attention.
As I watched the Cultural Instructor leave in disappointment, Shen Han also turned and slowly walked out of the venue. From his demeanor, it appeared he had held back; it seemed Shen Han hadn't given it his all!
Old Bi turned to me and said, "Shen Han seems quite impressive!"
"There are many skilled fighters out there!" I sighed. At that moment, the referee signaled for the next group of competitors to enter. It was my turn now. Old Bi patted my shoulder in encouragement. I smiled and walked down from the stands. I had been holding my staff since getting out of the car; to conserve energy, I gripped one section in my hand while dragging the other along behind me as I lazily made my way into the venue. Hearing that my opponent also used a staff, I was particularly eager to see what Short Staff techniques were all about.
As I descended with my staff, I noticed many people around me whispering and pointing, likely laughing at my luck in avoiding strong opponents. This surely irked some of them.
Upon entering the arena, I saw my opponent—a short and stocky guy who was about my height but much sturdier. At that time, I weighed no more than 108 pounds, while this guy could easily be called overweight. He held a short staff in each hand, about twenty to twenty-four inches long, and stared intently at me. The material appeared to be a tough stick, dark in color; it definitely wasn't rubber.
Oh? Was this the guy who agreed to swap places with Qin Sihu? He must be quite naive if he thought he could avoid strong opponents this way. Surely he wasn't that impressive.
I thought this while keeping a close eye on him. The referee finished registering us and stepped aside; with a sharp whistle, the match began!
Honestly, defense was never my style. I've always believed that the best defense is a good offense. When you force your opponent into a position where they have to block left and right, what need is there for defense?
So when the whistle blew, I fell back on my usual tactic: stepping forward aggressively with my right hand swinging the staff from behind me in a wide arc aimed at my opponent.
At that moment, my opponent also stepped forward to launch an attack. However, upon hearing the whooshing sound of my steel rod slicing through the air, he hesitated and retreated!
I advanced two steps while he backed away three; naturally, my strike missed its target. Not waiting for him to counterattack, I stepped forward again, using my left hand to guide the momentum of my staff in a circular motion before bringing both hands down hard toward his head.
This strike carried significant force; if he retreated again, he would fall into a cycle of being hit repeatedly. If he tried to block it, his Teng Stick might not withstand my Steel Rod. What would he choose?
It seemed my opponent had seen me relentlessly attacking that competitor named Qi; fearing he would end up in a passive position himself, he gritted his teeth and crossed his arms tightly around his Teng Sticks to block!
With a loud thud, our staffs collided! I clearly saw his Teng Stick vibrate slightly; it appeared he couldn't maintain his grip due to the sheer force of my Steel Rod's weight and speed.
Fortunately, he didn't dare to be overconfident and used two Teng Sticks. If it were just one, he definitely wouldn't be able to block it.
I smiled slightly, pulling the sticks back with both hands. As I drew them halfway, I suddenly lunged forward and forcefully thrust the Steel Rod down towards him.
He had just separated the two sticks, holding one in each hand, intending to counterattack and seize the initiative. Little did he know that at this moment of vulnerability, I pierced forward.
With a whoosh, the Steel Rod angled toward his abdomen. I knew that for someone like him, it didn't matter where I hit; only when I struck the softest and most fatty areas would the sensation be the strongest.
The hefty man let out a strange cry but refused to retreat, swinging his sticks down hard in an attempt to smash my rod. Just as his sticks were about to make contact with my rod's tip, I pulled the Steel Rod back a bit and then thrust it forward again with great force, shouting, "Got you!" This time, it was aimed at his chest.
This move was inspired by a two-part side kick I had seen in Lee Long's martial arts films years ago. Lee Long could execute a side kick with incredible speed: the first kick would strike the opponent's shin, making them unstable; without pausing, the second kick would rise high and target the opponent's temple, often knocking them out with a single blow.
My technique followed this principle as well; I used the first two moves as feints to provoke my opponent into making a mistake. Once they committed to their action, I would deliver the third strike to hit them. However, there was a challenge: to ensure speed, I couldn't pull back too far after the initial thrust. This limited my power and meant that while it wouldn't cause significant damage, it was perfect for this kind of competition where injuries were a concern.
In an instant, as the hefty man swung his sticks down into empty air and stood there in shock, my rod had already jabbed into his chest!
(To be continued; more exciting content tomorrow!)
Comment 0 Comment Count