Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

With the primary school graduation exams over, the provincial children's cup martial arts and Sanda championships are just around the corner.

Coach Zhou Zhenhua, along with Chen Gang and Cang Tianci, boarded a bus bound for the provincial capital, led by Sun Qiming, the leader of the Anshi Wushu Sanda delegation, along with two coaches from the Anshi Sports School and their students.

The scenery outside the car window gradually changed from familiar fields and hills to neat rows of factories, dense residential buildings, and finally towering glass curtain wall skyscrapers. Those glass curtain walls reflected a blinding white light in the afternoon sun, like mirrors. On huge GG signs, the model's smile was flawlessly perfect, next to English letters that Tianci couldn't understand. The streets were wide and straight, the traffic flowing like a well-maintained river, each car proceeding along its predetermined path in perfect order.

After a two- or three-hour journey, Cang Tianci once again set foot on this land that had brought him immense disappointment and humiliation. Unlike the bewilderment and trepidation he felt when he came with his elder brother last time, this time, as a member of the Ji County team representing An City in the provincial competition, he carried a heavy responsibility on his shoulders, and a burning desire to prove something lurked within him. The evaluation from Nancheng Sports School still felt like a thorn stuck in his heart.

After exiting the station, team leader Sun Qiming and coaches Li Weiguo and Zhou Zhenhua led the team members to the hotel designated by the organizing committee. For Tianci, who was staying in a provincial hotel for the first time, everything here felt new and unfamiliar.

Stepping into the lobby, the gleaming marble floor, so smooth it reflected his image, made him almost hesitant to tread, each step deliberate and cautious. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, casting a soft yet dazzling light, and a faint, pleasant fragrance filled the air. The reception staff, dressed in crisp uniforms, wore professional smiles. All of this made Tianci feel an invisible pressure.

Pushing open the door to his assigned room felt like stepping into another world. The snow-white sheets were perfectly smooth, without a single wrinkle, their soft touch a stark contrast to the hard bed he was used to. The boxy television on the wall, though black, exuded an air of mystery. What unsettled him most was the bathroom—the gleaming tiles, the magical faucet that dispensed hot and cold water, and the gleaming white toilet that took him ages to figure out how to flush. He stood barefoot on the cold tiles, looking at himself in the mirror, and suddenly remembered the muddy floor of his home in Xiqiao Village. Everything here was too "smooth," so smooth it left no trace, so smooth it made it impossible to find a foothold. He moved gently, touching everything with hesitation.

Lying on the soft bed, he couldn't fall asleep for a long time. The neon lights of the provincial capital outside the window shone through the gaps in the curtains, casting shifting spots of light on the floor. The light was unfamiliar and indifferent, as if silently measuring the distance between him and this bustling world.

On the second day after arriving in Nancheng, the preliminary rounds began. Cang Tianci, relying on his solid foundation, advanced through the rounds. In the preliminaries, he intentionally tried to utilize the insight gained from his "Hibernating Dragon Heart-Searching Finger," focusing on "discerning energy and identifying opportunities" rather than engaging in direct combat. He discovered that on the clearly defined ring, his opponent's intentions were often more straightforward, and the signs of surging energy were still discernible even under protective gear. He could predict the landing point of a sweeping kick half a beat in advance and find that tiny opening for a counterattack between combinations. He successfully secured his place in the 48kg finals. His senior brother, Chen Gang, also struggled to advance to the 56kg finals in the second day of the preliminaries.

On the third day of the competition, the final of the Provincial Children's Cup Wushu Sanda Championship arrived. The atmosphere at the competition venue was exceptionally tense. Inside the huge stadium, the lights focused on the central ring. Cang Tianci, wearing red boxing gloves and protective gear tightly wrapped around his chest, abdomen, and head, stood silently atop it. His opponent was Zhang Jingsong's prized student from the provincial sports school. His opponent was robust, with sharp eyes, and his gaze towards Tianci carried a scrutinizing quality, as if appraising a subpar but lucky-to-have made it to the finals.

Zhang Jingsong sat upright in the corner of the ring, his eyes fixed on the two fighters. When his gaze swept over Cang Tianci, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He seemed to find the thin young man somewhat familiar, but couldn't quite place where he had seen him before. Li Weiguo, the Sanda coach from Anshi Sports School, and team leader Sun Qiming also sat on the coach's bench, watching this tough battle with tense expressions.

The sharp whistle pierced the silence!

The opponent's offensive surged forth like a flood, revealing the solid foundation built up by the provincial team's resources. Their punches and kicks were sharp, dense, and relentlessly pressing forward. Tianci focused his mind and held his breath, the Hidden Dragon Technique flowing naturally within him. His breath settled into his dantian, bringing an extraordinary calmness. The heightened perception granted by the "Spiritual Pivot Finger Technique" was amplified to its peak. In his eyes, his opponent's swift movements seemed to be dissected; the slight trembling of his shoulder muscles, the surge of blood and qi before the shift in weight, even the slightly rapid breathing rhythm due to the continuous onslaught—all were clearly discernible, like ripples on the water's surface. His footwork was like a fish swimming in a stream, always avoiding heavy blows with minimal effort at the last second. Each block precisely struck the weakest point in the opponent's power. His occasional counterattacks were like a viper's flick, swift and precise.

The initial advantage calmed Tianci somewhat, but the anxiety of "proving" deep within him did not subside; instead, it quietly grew stronger as the match progressed. He didn't just want to win; he wanted to win beautifully, to silence the person on the sidelines who had once doubted him. With this thought in mind, his moves unconsciously took on a deliberate "performance" quality, losing some of the purity and adaptability that "Hibernating Dragon Questions Its Heart" should possess.

However, just as he was getting into his rhythm, his opponent threw a powerful right hook, which he instinctively blocked. At that moment, he saw the triumphant smile on his opponent's face, a smile that overlapped with the sinister grin on Wang Yaowu's face after he pushed him into the water. Tianci felt a chill run down his spine, and his breathing became erratic.

Immediately afterward, he suddenly heard Zhang Jingsong roar at his disciple from the sidelines: "Stabilize! Break his rhythm! His lower body isn't solid enough!"

"The lower body isn't solid enough..."

That voice, those comments, were like a spell, instantly triggering a flood of pent-up memories. Zhang Jingsong's comments at the Nancheng Sports School training hall: "The skeletal structure determines the ceiling...lower body strength development is limited..." Wang Zhenkun's contemptuous sneer; Zhao Xiaohu's exaggerated imitation of his stuttering face; Sun Peng pinching his shoulders in the dormitory and saying, "With this physique, are you here to train to get beaten up?"... Countless voices and images of denial, contempt, and bullying exploded in his mind like a burst dam!

The ring seemed to shake slightly. His opponent's blue protective gear gleamed coldly under the lights, a color that inexplicably reminded him of the imported jacket Zhao Xiaohu often wore. The sporadic boos coming from the stands amplified in his ears into the mocking laughter of the children from Xiqiao Village imitating his stutter. His opponent's ordinary, probing left hook, in his suddenly confused perception, transformed into a slap from Blackie aimed at him in a dark alley.

"Uh..." Tianci let out a suppressed groan, and the circulation of the Hidden Dragon Technique became noticeably sluggish. The inner demon was not external; it was the humiliation, anger, and obsession with proof that had not yet been completely quelled deep within him, which was now being ignited completely.

His gaze was no longer pure, and his movements began to show subtle distortions. He no longer pursued the most effective evasion and counterattack, but instead carried a venting ferocity, trying to crush the "opponent" in front of him who seemed to bear all the symbols of humiliation with absolute power.

He raised his right hand to meet the opponent's swinging punch head-on.

The moment his right fist made contact with his opponent's swinging punch, Tianci suddenly realized—the power of this punch was far less than he had perceived! It wasn't a powerful strike, but more like a carefully designed bait!

"Damn it!" The thought had barely formed when his opponent's left leg, which was already poised to strike, swept fiercely towards the open space on Tianci's right side exposed by his forward-leaning block, like a steel whip.

"Bang!" A dull thud pierced through the protective gear and reached his very core. Tianci felt a sharp pain in his right rib, as if he had been struck by an iron hammer. His breath was instantly scattered, and he staggered back two steps to the left, his vision going black. The flow of the Hidden Dragon Technique was completely disrupted, and his blood and qi churned within him.

The opponent pressed his advantage relentlessly, giving Tianci no chance to catch his breath. He charged forward like a cheetah, his glove drawing an arc under the lights, and with lightning speed, a right straight punch pierced through Tianci's futilely raised left arm defense in the instant Tianci was unsteady and his blocking stance was shaky, landing solidly on his face guard!

"Bang!" The sound of the skull striking the lining of the protective gear was enough to make one's teeth ache. Tianci's head snapped back, his vision blurred violently, his ears rang, and a strong smell of rust filled his nostrils. This punch not only brought excruciating pain but also a humiliating dizziness—he had been tricked and hit by such a simple and direct combination!

"Tianci! Guard your mind!" Zhou Zhenhua roared anxiously from the sidelines, his voice almost tearing apart.

The referee quickly intervened, separating the two sides and signaling for the match to continue, but his gaze towards Tianci now carried a hint of scrutiny—having suffered consecutive clear and heavy blows, if he were to fall into a significant disadvantage again, the match might be terminated.

Tianci was breathing heavily, his teeth clenched tightly, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth stimulating his nerves. A dull ache in his right rib and a burning pain in his face intertwined, but these physical pains paled in comparison to the deep-seated agony caused by his inner demons and misjudgments. His prized ability to "discern qi and seize opportunities" had become a weakness exploited by his opponent in his chaotic state of mind and disordered qi! The subtle "deception" of qi and blood circulation in those feints was magnified into a real sign of attack in his confused perception, inducing him to make the wrong response.

A few scattered cheers or sighs seemed to come from the stands, but to his unusually sensitive ears, they seemed to transform into a reverberation of countless voices—Wang Zhenkun's sneer, Zhang Jingsong's comments, and even the faint sound of his father Cang Zhenye's heavy breathing as he silently toiled in the fields… All of these were questioning him: What makes you think you can stand here? Can you really prove anything?

The opponent did not rush to pursue, but maintained a coercive distance, his eyes sharp, as if scrutinizing prey that had fallen into a trap. He was waiting, waiting for Tianci to reveal a greater opening due to his panic.

Tianci forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. But his mind was in turmoil, the flow of the Hidden Dragon Technique was sluggish, and the two heavy blows from before seemed to have affected his body coordination. His footwork was no longer agile, and his blocking movements were somewhat stiff. His opponent seized the opportunity and launched another attack, a combination of a low sweep followed by a right straight punch. Although Tianci managed to block it, the impact still sent him staggering backward, his back almost slamming into the ropes.

On the sidelines, Zhang Jingsong's lips twitched almost imperceptibly upwards, a hint of expected indifference flashing in his eyes. He was quite satisfied with his player's tactical execution. Coach Li Weiguo clenched his fists, his knuckles white. Team leader Sun Qiming's expression was grave. Zhou Zhenhua's eyes almost spit fire, but more than that, they showed deep concern for Tianci's form.