Master of Chinese Martial Arts: I Can Steal the Skills of a Grandmaster from the Republic of China E

Chapter 84 Slap in the Face

The old dragon head flower field, this place, which is right next to the old dragon head railway station, is a messy historical site.

Years ago, this was a German concession. After Germany's defeat, the land should have been returned. However, the Japanese were impatient and preemptively sent troops to occupy a portion of it, claiming it was to take over on their behalf.

The French arrived shortly after, carrying the treaty and claiming that the land was adjacent to the French Concession and therefore they had rights to it.

After years of wrangling between the two sides, the weak Beiyang government ultimately made things a mess. The Japanese concession claimed "limited jurisdiction," while the French concession insisted on having "legitimate rights," and the Chinese police had no say in the matter.

Thus, this place became a true "no man's land," the most notorious den of iniquity in Tianjin.

But behind the scenes, the Japanese still wielded greater influence.

Opium dens, gambling houses, shady establishments, black markets, and underground banks were densely packed together. Behind them stood mostly businesses that, while bearing the names of Japanese companies, were actually controlled by the Black Dragon Society or the Genyosha.

Police officers from the Japanese concession would come over from time to time to "maintain order," while police officers from the French concession would also occasionally come by. They tacitly understood each other and kept to themselves.

A short while later, they arrived at their destination. The truck stopped, and Zhou Xing led his group out and stood on the street.

Zhou Xing's gaze swept over the storefronts on both sides: "Shochikukan", "Hōraikaku", and "Yoshida Shosha".

He slightly relaxed his listening range, and the sounds of people talking, mahjong, coughing, and hushed conversations flooded into his ears. He filtered through them, trying to detect anything unusual.

The first target was a large inn called "Longmenzhan" on the edge of the flower field.

Ostensibly an inn, it was actually a base operated by a charity for many years.

Other departments had investigated twice before, but both investigations were dropped due to insufficient evidence and concerns from the Japanese side.

Although this wasn't the primary objective of the case, Zhou Xing's arrival meant he could decide what kind of place this was.

"Let's go."

He stepped across the street.

Several men with their shirts open and fierce eyes squatted at the entrance of Longmen Inn. When they saw the patrol team approaching, they just glanced at them sideways and didn't move.

Behind the counter in the shop, an accountant wearing a round hat looked up and glanced at the shop before lowering his head to work on his abacus.

"Sirs, you look unfamiliar. Are you here on business? I'm the head of this area, my surname is Hou. What do you need me for?"

A Chinese man dressed in a wrinkled Brazilian suit, bowing and scraping, came up to greet them with a broad smile.

Zhou Xing glanced at him, continuing on his way: "The police station is handling a case. I need to talk to the Japanese in charge here."

Hou Baozheng's smile froze: "Well, the Japanese officers don't come here often, but I can say a few words about what's going on here—"

Zhou Xing paused, turning to look at him. "Want to say a few words? Alright. I'll ask you, at the end of last month, were there two Southeast Asians carrying baskets around this area? Where did they stay?"

Hou Baozheng was taken aback: "Southeast Asians? I hadn't noticed. We have people from all over the country here—"

Zhou Xing ignored him and walked straight ahead.

Zhong Ding took two quick steps and whispered, "Detective Zhou, this place is a mixed bag. Shouldn't we check with the Japanese Concession police station first? Why are we forcing our way in like this—"

Zhou Xing didn't turn around: "The procedures that Captain Renault coordinated were for us to investigate. By the time the Japanese concession gives the order, the evidence will be long gone."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for those behind him to hear: "We're just following the law, what are we afraid of?"

Hou Baozheng's face darkened when he saw that Zhou Xing was completely ignoring him. He jogged a few steps and said, "Sir, I see you're also Chinese. When you're in this territory, you should follow the rules, otherwise—"

"Snapped!"

A crisp sound rang out. Zhou Xing slapped Hou Baozheng squarely across the face with a backhand motion.

It wasn't very forceful, but it was extremely insulting.

Hou Baozheng was stunned by the beating, covering his face in disbelief.

"rule?"

Zhou Xing glanced at him. "Today, I'm the rule. Get lost."

He stopped talking nonsense and waved his hand.

Two Chinese constables who had been transferred out of the area stepped forward to seal the door.

"Wait!"

A Japanese ronin dressed in black sashes with a samurai sword at his waist sauntered out from the inner room, speaking broken Chinese: "This place is legally operated by residents of the Great Eastern Empire! And you, what are you doing here?"

Zhong Ding was a little scared and subconsciously looked at Zhou Xing, whispering, "Investigating the case is fine, but if we hurt the Japanese, it will be difficult to explain later."

Zhou Xing didn't even glance at the ronin, and directly said to Hans, "Lieutenant, show the search warrant. Officer Chen, read out the reason."

Hans remained expressionless as he produced a document bearing the seals of both the French Concession Municipal Council and the Police Department.

Chen Qi took a deep breath and began to read from the script: "In accordance with the Provisional Ordinance for the Administration of Public Security in the Concession and the authorization of the Special Search Team, a search is now being conducted on locations suspected of concealing evil magic materials and endangering public safety —"

"Baka!"

The ronin interrupted, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "This place is under the jurisdiction of the Great Eastern Empire! You, get out!"

The men at the front gate suddenly stood up and surrounded them with unfriendly expressions.

The atmosphere suddenly tensed. More people gathered in the streets to watch the spectacle. The dispatched Chinese constables became somewhat agitated.

Zhou Xing then turned his face to look at the ronin and suddenly smiled.

He stepped forward, only a step away from the ronin, and could almost smell the alcohol and sweat on him.

Zhou Xingxian looked at Chen Qi: "Reporter, the suspect is Xiao Baga, who violently resisted the arrest."

Turning back, he asked with a smile, "A Japanese?"

"Of course!" the ronin said, puffing out his chest.

"Snapped!"

Before the ronin could finish speaking, Zhou Xing's hand had already reached out.

With fingers spread wide, he delivered a solid slap to that raised face!

The sound was crisp and bright, exploding in the suddenly quiet street corner like a small firecracker.

The ronin's head snapped to the side, completely stunned. His ears were ringing, and he saw stars before his eyes. He covered his face, staring wide-eyed at Zhou Xing, as if he couldn't believe it.

Zhou Xing shook his hand as if it had gotten dirty, then turned to Zhong Ding, whose face had turned pale, and smiled: "Have you ever heard of 'being confused doesn't hurt your brain'?"

Zhong Ding's throat moved, but he didn't say anything.

Zhou Xing had already turned around. The ronin finally reacted, let out a strange cry, reached for his sword with his left hand, and clenched his fist with his right hand to strike.

Zhou Xing didn't move his feet, but slightly turned his body to let the scabbard pass, and his right hand once again swung the sword.

"This is to teach you to obey the law."

"Snapped!"

Another slap landed on the other side of the ronin's face.

This time, the force was more skillful, causing the ronin to spin halfway around on the spot, and the sword he had just pulled out halfway clattered to the ground.

"You—you bastard!" The ronin went completely mad, blood streaming from his mouth and nose, and lunged forward, baring his teeth and claws.

This time, Zhou Xing didn't use his hands. He raised his foot and slapped the other man's shinbone with the instep, quickly and lightly.

"Ouch!" the ronin cried out in pain, losing his balance and staggering forward.

Zhou Xing reached out and slapped him across the face again.

"Snapped!"

"This is to teach you to be polite."

The ronin didn't even utter a sound; his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground like limp mud, unconscious. From beginning to end, Zhou Xing hadn't moved an inch.

The men standing at the door, their shirts ripped open, were completely dumbfounded. They had their hands on their backs, unsure whether to move or not.

Zhou Xing's gaze swept over them.

The first man was startled by the stare, and Zhou Xing was already in front of him.

"Snapped!"

A slap sent him staggering and crashing into the doorframe.

The second man tried to back away, but Zhou Xing slipped and was already right next to him.

"Snapped!"

With a backhand slap, he sent him spinning on the spot.

The third man roared and threw a punch. Zhou Xing neither dodged nor evaded, but grabbed the man's wrist with his left hand and pressed it down, while raising his right hand in the process.

"Snapped!"

The two blows, one forward and one backward, were so fast they almost merged into one sound. The man's cheeks swelled instantly, his mouth filled with a metallic taste, and he spat out a bloody molar.

The fourth man's legs went weak, and he turned to run back into the shop. Zhou Xing hooked a piece of broken brick on the ground with his toe and kicked it away.

"Thump!" The brick struck the back of his knee. The man fell to his knees with a "plop."

Zhou walked over and bent down.

"Snapped!"

Another blow, like a slap to a disobedient child. The man covered his face, collapsed to the ground, and dared not move again.

From the first ronin to the last thug, it took only seven or eight breaths. The onlookers in the street all held their breath, completely silent.

Only the sound of slaps echoed crisply in the air, one after another.

Zhong Ding looked at the people lying haphazardly on the ground, then at Zhou Xing's detective uniform, which barely had any creases. His palms were sweating, but he felt a strange, twisted sense of pleasure.

Chen Qi opened his mouth, wanting to record the "conflict process," but found himself at a loss for words.

What is this? A beating? But the other side brandished a weapon first.

Excessive force? But the officer seemed to have—not used excessive force.

Hou Baozheng had already hidden behind the crowd, covering his face and not daring to make a sound.

Just then, in the inn, the cotton curtain that had been half-closed was slowly lifted by a hand with large, calloused knuckles.

A middle-aged man wearing a dark blue kimono and wooden clogs came out.

He was not tall, even somewhat short and stocky, but every step he took was extremely steady.

The sleeves of the kimono were rolled up, revealing forearm muscles that looked like they were cast in iron.

He had a standard Jintan mustache, and his eyes were calm, even somewhat wooden. When his gaze swept over the unconscious ronin and thugs on the ground, there was not a ripple of emotion.

There was no knife at his waist. But he just stood there, and the air in the entire inn's lobby seemed to freeze.

Zhou Xing raised an eyebrow and naturally relaxed his listening posture.

My heartbeat is slow and deep, like an undercurrent at the bottom of a deep pool. My muscles and bones move naturally, all my strength locked deep within, contained and not revealed.

He's a master.

He wasn't some street thug; he was a trained professional with a very solid and deep understanding of martial arts.

The middle-aged man glanced at Zhou Xing, then at the police team behind him, and finally his gaze fell on the search warrant with a red seal in Hans's hand.

He spoke, his Chinese surprisingly fluent, though with a unique accent: "Why are the police officers of the French Concession using force here, injuring my expatriates?"

Zhou Xing clapped his hands, meeting his gaze: "The police are investigating a case, searching for sorcerers and criminals. Your men violently resisted arrest and assaulted officers with weapons. I'm handling it according to the law. Do you have any objections?"

The middle-aged man was silent for a moment, then nodded slightly: "Even if they were at fault, it should be handled by the Japanese Concession Police. You have overstepped your bounds."

"Crossing the line?"

Zhou Xing smiled and pointed to the document in Hans's hand. "It's written in black and white, with a clear red seal. The French Concession has the right to investigate any acts that endanger public order in this area. What about the jurisdiction of your Japanese Concession? Produce the documents, and we'll confront each other now."

A hint of coldness flashed in the depths of the middle-aged man's eyes.

He certainly couldn't produce such a thing; it was a mess to begin with. But he couldn't back out.

Even if they have the authority to investigate,

He said slowly, "You have no right to humiliate the people of my Great Eastern Empire like this. Your Excellency needs to give me an explanation."

"Explain?"

Zhou Xing took two steps forward, only five or six steps away from the man. For a master, this distance was a life-or-death line that could be reached in an instant.

He stared into the other man's eyes and said, word by word, "Have you confessed? Do you want a slap?"

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