Hong Kong variety show: From being bitten by a cockroach to becoming a legend

Chapter 81 Who's More Arrogant?

"You Chinese cockroach, what are you talking about?"

The martial arts he was so proud of were called "Grandma's Woodcutter's Knife" by Song Zhaowen, and his anger was about to explode.

Yuan Qingnan's eyes turned cold, and his offensive slowed down slightly.

Song Zhaowen continued, speaking slowly and clearly, each word like a dull knife cutting flesh: "You just said—Japanese martial arts? A killing technique?" He tilted his head, mimicking Yuan Qingnan's previous tone, but with utter disdain. "Oh—I remember now, it's your stuff, the saplings you learned from our Tang Dynasty, changed the name, and dare to use it to intimidate people? Stealing isn't shameful, but stealing and then going around shouting that you invented it—are you Japanese particularly good at this?"

"Baka!" Yuan Qingnan's forehead veins bulged instantly, and his chilling killing intent almost materialized. There were two things he hated most in his life: one was someone questioning his martial arts skills, and the other was someone exposing the secrets of Japanese martial arts. Song Zhaowen had both.

"Getting impatient?" Song Zhaowen sneered, his Bajiquan-style mud-walking step slowly approaching. "Killing techniques? Those moves you just made were okay for chopping wood, but for killing people?" He deliberately dragged out the tone, shook his head, "If you hit me, it'd be like a woman tickling me; I'd recommend you go to Temple Street to get your penis removed, that's more promising than being in the underworld."

"You're asking for death!" Yuan Qingnan was completely enraged. For someone like him who twisted and bound martial arts and national pride together, this insult was more painful than death.

"I'm going to shatter every bone in your body, inch by inch! I'll make you crawl on the ground like a maggot, licking clean every word you just uttered!" Yuan Qingnan roared, pushing his speed and power to the limit. His entire body was like a raging wheel of blades, spinning and crushing towards Song Zhaowen! His palms flew, creating a series of palm shadows, each strike infused with the power of his entire body, determined to chop this despicable Chinese man into mincemeat.

The offensive was fierce, but they lost the precision and composure they had before.

This was exactly the effect Song Zhaowen wanted. A glint flashed in his eyes, and instead of retreating, he advanced!

"Well done, let me show you the real treasures left by our ancestors."

Faced with Yuan Qingnan's storm of wild hand strikes, Song Zhaowen no longer simply took the hits head-on. He maximized his enhanced dynamic vision and reflexes after his transformation. He moved swiftly, weaving through the dense gaps in the palm strikes, dodging the attacks by the slightest margin, while simultaneously showcasing the close-quarters combat advantages of Bajiquan!

Yuan Qingnan's powerful horizontal slash missed, and Song Zhaowen seized the slight gap as Yuan Qingnan's arm retracted, suddenly stepping forward and shoving him in. His shoulder, like a battering ram, fiercely crashed into Yuan Qingnan's arms.

"Stick to the mountain."

That was a solid hit! Yuan Qingnan felt a tightness in his chest, as if he had been hit by a speeding motorcycle. His blood surged, and his feet involuntarily stumbled back three steps, leaving several shallow dents in the hard cement ground.

"Well!"

"Can't even handle this?" Song Zhaowen pressed on relentlessly, his footwork a rapid, relentless barrage. "Your Japanese kung fu is all about form," he said, "you practically recite a scripture before you even strike a pose. Our Bajiquan only cares about one word—fight!"

As he spoke, fists, elbows, and knees rained down on Yuan Qingnan like a storm. Yuan Qingnan hurriedly parried with a hand chop.

He slashed, but the distance was too close, and the length and power of his hand blades could not be fully utilized. Instead, he was overwhelmed by Song Zhaowen's storm of close-range attacks.

"Bang!" A heavy low kick landed on Yuan Qingnan's shinbone, and even though his muscles were taut like iron, he felt a piercing pain.

"Smack!" Song Zhaowen swung his elbow, forcefully deflecting Yuan Qingnan's hand slashing towards his throat, and his other fist, like a venomous snake emerging from its hole, struck straight at the other's heart.

Yuan Qingnan hurriedly pressed down with his palm, barely blocking the attack, but his palm was numb from the shock.

"Is that all you've got?" Song Zhaowen continued his barrage of attacks while verbally pressuring the enemy, his contempt practically overflowing. "The boss of the East City Gang? You got there by chopping car doors and cutting wood? Looks like your Japanese mafia has run out of talent."

"Shut up! Shut up!!!" Yuan Qingnan's eyes were bloodshot, his reason being consumed by rage and humiliation. He roared, ignoring his own wide-open defenses, and with both hands together like knives, he slashed at Song Zhaowen's neck and abdomen like scissors, a desperate, mutually destructive tactic!

"Getting angry?" A cold glint flashed in Song Zhaowen's eyes. He knew his chance had come. Faced with this dangerous strangulation, he did not retreat. Instead, he poured all his strength into his right fist. The mutated muscle fibers tightened under his skin like steel wires, and the stratum corneum of his skin faintly shone with a strange luster that was difficult for ordinary people to detect.

Without dodging or avoiding, he pushed the power of the "Beng" technique of Bajiquan to the extreme, twisted his waist and pushed his shoulder forward, and threw out a straight punch, which struck the center of Yuan Qingnan's arms that were strangling him, and at the same time, the open spot in his chest!

This punch was devoid of any fancy moves; it was simply fast, powerful, and hard!

"Let me show you what it truly means to overcome all skill with brute force!"

Wherever the fist struck, the air seemed to be compressed, producing a muffled explosion!

Before Yuan Qingnan's "Double Blade Strangulation" could be closed, the fist, which seemed to contain the force of a thousand pounds, slammed into the inside of his crossed arms like a cannonball, and then, unstoppably, imprinted itself on his chest.

"Click~"

A sickeningly clear sound of bone cracking rang out!

The rage and ferocity on Yuan Qingnan's face froze instantly, transforming into extreme horror and pain. He felt as if he had been hit head-on by a high-speed train; the excruciating pain in his arms and the suffocating feeling in his chest as if it were about to explode made his vision go black.

"Wow~" He vomited a mouthful of blood uncontrollably, which mixed with the rain and soaked the front of his expensive suit.

His arrogant and overbearing body was thrown backward like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily onto the wet ground, sliding several meters before coming to a stop against the corner of the wall.

The rain is still falling.

Song Zhaowen slowly withdrew his fist, stood still, and breathed slightly.

He's not completely alright.

Yuan Qingnan is indeed quite skilled; if it were Chen Haonan, ten of him wouldn't be enough to serve food.

A sharp pain shot through his left elbow joint, and his chest felt tight from the lingering force of the hand chop, but compared to Yuan Qingnan, who was lying there curled up, coughing up blood, his condition was much better.

Song Zhaowen walked over step by step and stood in front of Yuan Qingnan, looking down at the leader of the Dongcheng Society who had been so arrogant just moments before.

Yuan Qingnan struggled to sit up, but the fractured sternum and the shock to his internal organs rendered him powerless. He could only tilt his head back and stare at Song Zhaowen with bloodshot eyes.

Song Zhaowen squatted down, raindrops dripping down his sharply defined jawline.

"Now." Song Zhaowen's voice was calm, yet it chilled Yuan Qingnan to the bone even more than his previous sarcasm.

Who is the bug?

He reached out and lightly patted Yuan Qingnan's blood-stained cheek, the force carrying a strong sense of insult.