Vigilantes defy the law with their martial prowess. And where there's defiance, an entertainment industry is sure to follow.
The entertainment industry in this world was remarkably developed—both the legal and illegal, the public and the clandestine. As long as you had power, nothing was out of reach.
Zhao Rui didn't even have to guess where Yang Fan was taking him.
He had spent half the afternoon at the Martial Arts Hall, but with no one looking for a sparring partner, he'd just been waiting around.
It wasn't until evening that a young man in his twenties "requested" him.
This young man was a freestyle fighter—in layman's terms, an underground boxer.
He often came to the Martial Arts Hall to hone his Martial Art!
When Zhao Rui heard he was an underground boxer, his scalp went numb. These people fought life-and-death battles in the ring.
Even though this was just training at the Martial Arts Hall, if the opponent couldn't hold back and ended up injuring him, it would be no laughing matter.
He was here without his family's knowledge in the first place.
If he came back with any injuries, there was no way he could keep it a secret.
He was about to refuse, but then a thought struck him. 'If the path of martial arts is stripped of real combat, doesn't it lose the true essence of the Martial Dao?'
'A flower raised in a greenhouse can never withstand the harshness of frost and heat.'
'Here's a perfect opportunity to learn and experience it firsthand without having to step into an underground ring. Isn't this a stroke of good luck?'
Zhao Rui steeled himself and decisively stepped onto the ring.
"My punches are a little heavy. If you can't take it, just raise your hand to signal me!"
The man had a faint red scar running diagonally across his forehead, making him look rather menacing when he spoke.
His lean, wiry frame was all defined muscle, as if all the fat had been stripped away. Below his raised nipples were several more diagonal scars.
This kind of appearance was a world away from the classmates Zhao Rui saw on a daily basis.
Even in his previous life, he had never seen a man with so many scars.
"Got it!"
Zhao Rui responded, crossing his palms to assume the opening stance of the Taihang Thirteen Palms: "Thousand Ridges Locking Clouds."
Seeing Zhao Rui was ready, the young man loosened up his body slightly, then suddenly stomped his feet on the ground. His figure shot forward like a tiger descending a mountain.
Zhao Rui didn't dare to meet the charge head-on, instead using nimble footwork to retreat and evade.
Like a shark that had smelled blood, the moment his opponent saw Zhao Rui retreat, he immediately pressed forward, his assault growing even more ferocious.
Zhao Rui swung his palms to block and immediately felt his arm go numb. The man looked skinny, yet he possessed incredible strength.
His body swayed, and he had to take a quick step to steady himself.
The scarred youth's assault didn't let up. He clenched his left hand into a fist and threw a punch that boomed like a war drum, the force of the blow stirring the air with a WHOOSH.
Zhao Rui changed his palm into a claw, his arm moving like an ancient, gnarled pine tree taking root, and aimed straight for the man's Jianjing Acupoint. He planned to lock his opponent's joint the moment he dodged.
This was the second form of the Taihang Thirteen Palms: Ten Thousand Valleys Listening to Pine.
The moment they clashed, it was like a crack of thunder—incredibly swift and fierce.
"Nice one!"
The scarred youth roared, thrusting his hip and pushing with his elbow. He unleashed a set of the Arhat Fist, instantly breaking Zhao Rui's joint-locking technique.
The students who had been training below the stage heard the winds stirred by the Fist Force and palm strikes and couldn't help but gather around. When they saw it was the scarred youth, they were stunned.
They all started asking the coach who the sparring partner was.
Upon hearing he was a new sparring partner, realization dawned on their faces. As they looked back at the stage, their expressions held a hint of schadenfreude.
"Not just anyone can last against Brother Hong. I bet he can hold on for ten minutes!"
"I heard he's a high school student. I give him five minutes, tops!"
Zhao Rui paid no mind to the crowd's chatter—he didn't have the luxury to. At this moment, he was concentrating all his focus on countering every single one of the scarred youth's attacks.
'This isn't working. The Taihang Thirteen Palms requires Inner Power for Support. Relying on the Misty Divine Skill alone, I can't last much longer!'
After several minutes of blocking, Zhao Rui's arms felt so sore and numb that they barely seemed to belong to him.
If this kept up, an opening would likely appear in another minute or two, and he would be hit.
As the thought arose, Zhao Rui switched his technique in mid-air. Inner Qi swirled in his palms, surging forward like clouds rolling for ten thousand miles.
He aimed straight for his opponent's vital acupoints.
The scarred man reacted with incredible speed. Instead of dodging, he met Zhao Rui's palms head-on with his fists.
Zhao Rui didn't try to overpower him. The moment their palms and fists met, he launched himself into the air, changing direction three times at a speed so great it seemed to leave a trail of afterimages.
Each time he reappeared, he would make a feint with his palms. On the third strike, the feint became real as he struck the man's Danzhong Acupoint. His real body had already retreated before the afterimages even faded.
Caught off guard by the unfamiliar pattern, the scarred youth faltered for a moment, and in that instant, a palm landed on his body.
Unfortunately, Zhao Rui hadn't dared to attack with full power. The Force behind his blow was insufficient, and it only made his opponent stagger slightly.
"You've got some moves!"
Instead of anger, the scarred youth was delighted. A cruel smile touched his lips as he charged forward, engaging Zhao Rui in battle once more.
"Six minutes! Seven minutes!... Ah, what a shame! A shame!"
The spectating students below suddenly cried out in alarm. On the stage, the scarred youth had seized an opportunity and landed a palm strike on Zhao Rui's back.
Zhao Rui staggered. He shifted into a defensive stance, and as his opponent's fist came at him, he used a wing-arm block to intercept and stick to the man's arm.
Twisting his waist and hips like a millstone, he redirected his opponent's force away from his centerline and used the momentum to press down with a plowing-hand technique.
After neutralizing the scarred youth's attacks one by one, he suddenly unleashed an explosive inch-force from beneath his elbow. It struck out with the force of creation itself, like the birth of Taiji from primordial chaos.
The blow instantly struck the scarred youth's left shoulder.
The two separated on contact, both of them stumbling.
"Good! Very impressive!"
The scarred man gave Zhao Rui a profound look and said with a frown, "Your Martial Arts are a mix of styles! It's not good to be a jack of all trades and master of none."
"If it works, it works,"
Zhao Rui replied with a faint smile. His Martial Arts were different from others; he had achieved Mastery in every style he knew. As long as he diligently polished his skills or fully opened his acupoints, he would be able to use them at will, without the slightest hesitation.
"It's been ten minutes! This new sparring partner is really good. He must be a top student! I wonder which school he's from."
"I think I need to learn a couple more Martial Arts, just in case. Launching surprise attacks is totally my style!"
"Get real. You haven't even gotten the hang of one style yet. If you try to learn another, I'm afraid you'll just mess yourself up!"
The hubbub from below the stage slightly annoyed the scarred youth. He turned to look at the greenhorn students and barked, "All of you, scram!"
Hearing this, the students' faces twitched, but no one dared to retort. With varying expressions, they all backed away from the ring.
The coach gave an awkward laugh, leaped onto the stage in a single bound, and placed himself between Zhao Rui and the scarred youth. "Alright, that's enough for now," he said. "Take a break."
That exchange, though it had lasted only ten minutes, was without a doubt the most perilous fight of Zhao Rui's life.
Every move had been vicious, the assault relentless. There had been no chance to even catch his breath.
If not for the fact his Inner Strength had recently increased by three years' worth of Power, its circulation would have likely grown sluggish during the fight!
"Brother Hong, I need a break. My Inner Strength is running low."
Zhao Rui's cold, detached expression from the fight vanished, replaced by the shyness and modesty befitting a young man his age.
This made the scarred youth, Brother Hong, pause. Only then did he realize that the person before him was just a student who had recently graduated from high school.
"Go on and rest."
Hearing this, Zhao Rui quickly got off the stage, grabbed an energy drink, and chugged it down.
In this world where science and the Martial Dao coexisted, all the rules of physics were the same as in his previous life—as long as True Qi wasn't involved.
But once the mysterious True Qi Inner Power—something akin to Dark Matter—was added to the equation, all the rules changed.
After finishing the drink, Zhao Rui began circulating his qi to regulate his breathing and recover his depleted Inner Strength.
The scarred youth, Brother Hong, walked over to a rest area, lit a cigarette, and took a couple of drags, exhaling plumes of smoke.
The coach saw this but didn't stop him, and of course, no one else dared to speak up.
After five or six minutes, Brother Hong returned to the side of the ring. Leaning against a pillar, he said slowly, "You're young, but your Power is considerable. Are you interested in doing some underground boxing with me?"
Hearing his words, Zhao Rui opened his eyes and said, "I'm still in school."
"School? Bullshit. How much money can you make from that?"
Brother Hong spat. "In this world, only strength and money matter."
"Forget it. You wouldn't get it even if I explained."
A self-deprecating smile appeared on Brother Hong's lips. He then gestured to Zhao Rui and said, "Let's continue!"
At his words, Zhao Rui stood up, a flicker of fighting spirit igniting in his eyes.
...
An hour later, Zhao Rui followed the coach into the therapy room, rubbing his red and swollen shoulder.
"This is Shangdu's famous Blood Circulation Ointment. It works fast."
"What's with the long face? You already did great. Which Martial Arts Hall are you affiliated with? Why don't you join ours?"
The coach said as he applied the ointment to Zhao Rui's shoulder.
"I saw you use Cloud Palm. You wouldn't happen to be Li Da Nao's disciple, would you?"
Zhao Rui nodded and asked, "You know my master?"
"Who in the entire old district doesn't know him! That old..."
The coach was about to say more but quickly stopped himself. After all, it wasn't right to speak ill of someone's master in front of their disciple.
Zhao Rui couldn't be bothered to ask more. He was well aware of what kind of character Li Da Nao was.
But the saying goes, 'a teacher for a day is a father for life.' As a disciple, it was best to ask less and hear less.
"Hong Fei's Inner Strength isn't much weaker than even my own, and he has so much combat experience. For you to last that long against him is already incredible."
The coach felt it was a great pity. Unfortunately, Zhao Rui already had a master, and on top of that, he was heading to university to walk the path of a Professional Martial Artist.