Super Fighting Tokyo

Chapter 197 The Privileges of Disciples

There is a big tree on the street outside the courtyard wall.

The bright afternoon sun, partially blocked by the leaves, fell on the courtyard of the Fighting Spirit Martial Arts Hall, creating dappled light and shadow.

In this interplay of light and shadow, countless ink lines surge and ripple, outlining a silhouette of a figure sitting cross-legged in meditation, with a long red ribbon tied around its forehead.

A gentle breeze blew by, causing the ends of the ribbons to sway and create shimmering, ethereal lines...

Long had been waiting for a long time.

{…}
Compared to the tranquility of the courtyard, the atmosphere in the training room inside seemed somewhat chaotic.

The floor was covered with puddles of sweat and scattered bits of fiber.

The sandbags that were brand new just a few hours ago are now tattered and covered in sweat and bloodstains.

Inside the room, Bai Mucheng was exhausted from training, panting heavily, and the bandages on his limbs were soaked with sweat.

In terms of physical exertion alone, Bai Mucheng at this moment was no less than someone who had just gone through a life-or-death battle!
But looking at Ryu in the courtyard, Shiramu Cheng couldn't help but grin and utter a happy yet hoarse whisper:
"Great, fantastic..."

He took a slow step, but almost stumbled and fell.

All engines are running!

His pupils trembled violently, and blood vessels spread across his eyeballs like chains.

Driven by a strong will, Bai Mucheng squeezed out the last bit of strength he had left to push open the door and step into the courtyard.

The afternoon sun felt warm and comfortable on my skin.

{…}
Ryu opened his eyes and first looked at Sagat inside the room. When he saw that Sagat had turned his head away—not wanting to look at him—he couldn't help but smile knowingly.

He stood up, slowly clenched his fist, and looked at Bai Mucheng in front of him.

Let's have a friendly competition.
The very next second after the words were spoken—

Swish!
Shiramu Cheng and Ryu simultaneously raised their legs for a side kick, colliding with each other in mid-air with a muffled "bang," creating countless splashes of ink.

Without stopping, the two flipped over, landed, twisted their waists, kicked again from another direction, and then stomped forward and threw a straight punch.

[A burst of fighting spirit strikes!]
boom!
The two fists collided simultaneously, causing Bai Mucheng and Long to retreat slightly, with Bai Mucheng retreating significantly more and almost falling over.

This is the engine.
{By relying on conscious thought, forcibly driving the body to fully unleash the potential of punches and kicks, eliminating unconscious actions, one achieves complete 'unity of knowledge and action'.}
Long whispered, then suddenly slid forward and unleashed a rapid series of punches and kicks.

shhhhhh!
Bai Mucheng took several hits hard, and his nose and mouth were bleeding.

But as the next straight punch came, Shiraki suddenly swung his fist sideways, opening Long's arm, then jumped up and dodged Long's low sweeping kick.

……despair!

Bai Mucheng landed steadily, and Long Ye stopped his pursuit at the right time.

Derived from the footwork of parkour, it possesses the characteristic and potential for 'adaptability'.
"call……"

Bai Mucheng took a deep breath, slightly relaxed his right hand, then clenched it tightly, even sweating a few drops, and punched forward with all his might.

In that instant, Ryuya stepped forward, threw a right hook upward, and roared "Rising Dragon!"
boom! !

Bai Mucheng's fist grazed Long's earlobe, leaving a dark arc in its wake.

He himself was struck in the chin by Ryu's Rising Dragon Fist, and was sent flying backward, crashing heavily onto the grass in the yard.

Pfft!
Bai Mucheng lay on his back, blood flowing from his mouth and nose, his eyes almost glazed over. The engine was forcibly shut down, and he tried to stand up but couldn't move an inch.

{【Ultimate Strike】—A highly focused striking technique that unleashes the combined power of over 36 trillion cells in the body.}
{…}
Seeing his disciple lying on the ground, Long slowly walked to his side and sat cross-legged on the ground.

{A surge of killing intent...}
{Indeed, you've become one of those who have encountered it.}
That wasn't some extraordinary power, but rather an inevitable realization one faces in the pursuit of strength and after acquiring numerous skills.
Long remained humble.

From this perspective, those of you interested in more 'fighting styles' may face even greater challenges than I have.
{The techniques and skills you've mastered—those to which you've poured countless hours of effort and passion—are you willing to not use them?}
The nature of this problem differs from that of dealing with terrorists or serial killers.
Your understanding of combat and power will determine the path you choose to take.
{How should you view martial arts? What mindset should you use techniques with? How is the outcome of a battle determined? And much more…}
If you want to continue improving and exploring 'what constitutes strength,' you cannot escape these questions.
Long sighed softly as he finished speaking, then turned to look at Sagat in the distance.

The other person still turned their head away, refusing to meet Long's gaze.

Long smiled helplessly.

Sagat's claim that I understand the essence of 'Killing Intent Wave' is far too much of an overestimation of me.
{I'm just someone who's troubled by it every day.}
However, it's true... I believe I'm close to finding my own answer.
In my opinion, the 'waves of murderous intent' are not something that can be easily abandoned or suppressed.
My goal is to neither accept nor reject it, but to 'let nature take its course and coexist with it.'
But I can't ask you to do the same.
{...or rather, you shouldn't have done that.}
Long slowly clenched his large fist, smiling as he looked at Bai Mucheng. {One must constantly examine oneself, push oneself, and face things with one's true self.}
Only in this way can you find your own answer!
This is my opinion.
{…}
After speaking, Long continued to sit cross-legged in meditation. Sagat inside the room did not say anything more. The surrounding ink continued to surge, gradually calming down under the afternoon sun.

suddenly--

"what!"

A hearty laugh escaped from Shiraki's lips, causing Ryu and Sagat to pause slightly in surprise.

Bai Mucheng took a deep breath, then stretched on the grass and grinned, "Although I can't answer it for now, and I have no idea what to do, strangely enough—I don't feel like there's anything wrong with it."

{…}
Ryu and Sagat paused, both seemingly lost in thought.

Bai Mucheng straightened up, supported himself on his knees with his hands, and turned to look at his two masters.

"Indeed, disciples should enjoy the privileges of disciples, and indulge in all sorts of random things such as exploring, thinking, agonizing, and rejoicing."

“I’m not a solitary thinker, nor am I a lone master. I have mentors and a large group of relatives and friends, so it’s perfectly fine.”

"Anyway, let's give it another try!"

Shiraki Cheng stood up, wiped the sweat and blood with a towel hanging on the railing, and returned to the house to continue practicing hitting the sandbag.

Seeing this, Sagat couldn't help but look back at Ryu. Their eyes finally met, and they smiled at each other.

"Humph……"

Sagat crossed his arms, surrounded by flowing ink-wash lines.

The pursuit of power is ultimately a solitary journey, but one cannot fight alone.
{Friends, mentors, nemesis, rivals... titles don't matter; being able to fight them is enough.}
{To have such an opponent would be an unparalleled stroke of luck for a fighter.}
Sagat glanced back at Ryu, his expression still fierce, {...right?}
Long grinned: {...Haha! }
The two masters vanished without a trace, leaving only the resounding "bang bang" of Bai Mucheng striking the sandbag, echoing in the afternoon sunlight.

……

……

Two days later, at dusk.

Shiraki went for a run to a park he had never been to before, which was said to have beautiful scenery and a newly built running track.

When I arrived at the park, I had only run a short distance when I heard a familiar voice from the side.

"Hey, Cheng!"

Shiramu Cheng turned his head and saw that it was an old acquaintance, the mixed martial artist he often trained with in the mornings—the "Kick King" Rob Robinson.

His invitational tournament in Tokyo has ended, and he is now enjoying a relaxing vacation, but he hasn't forgotten his daily training during this time.

"Let's go together!"

There's no need for many words between friends; the two continued running together, occasionally swinging their fists to practice their breathing and rhythm.

When they reached a section of the road where they could slow down, the two started chatting casually.

"Cheng, does your martial arts gym need any exhibits? My friend recently came to Tokyo; he's a 'heavyweight boxing champion' with quite a background."

Robinson laughed and said, "If you want it, I'll get you an autographed photo. I've invited him to dinner tonight!"

Bai Mucheng nodded his thanks.

The two turned a corner and saw a bench by the roadside. A young man with red hair was sitting on the bench reading a newspaper; he also appeared to be a foreigner.

The next moment——

call out!
The young man suddenly threw the newspaper, the sharp edge of which sliced ​​towards Robinson.

Robinson dodged to the side, but was still a beat too slow. A small cut appeared on his face from the newspaper, and beads of bright red blood oozed out.

"Huh?"

Bai Mucheng stopped and looked over, only to find it was another familiar face.

Death row inmate—Dor, is coming!

(End of this chapter)