From a tuberculosis patient to a martial arts master

"Shameless scoundrel!"

Jiang Chengzhi never expected that his opponent would suddenly abandon his sword, and in haste, he could only turn around and parry with his own sword.

With a crisp "clang," sparks flew up.

He knocked the flying iron sword far away, and it embedded half an inch into the snow.

Although he was not seriously injured, his previous fierce attack came to an abrupt halt, and his breathing became erratic.

Without further delay, Zhu Hong leaped forward and unleashed a punch, the "Advancing Strike" from the Taizu Long Fist style. The punch was heavy and fierce, like thunder, and carried by snowflakes as it aimed straight for Jiang Chengzhi's heart.

Caught off guard, Jiang Chengzhi had no time to change his move. He could only cross his arms, holding his sword horizontally in front of his chest, attempting to withstand the blow with the blade itself. Then:

"boom--"

Fists and swords clashed.

He felt an overwhelming force surge through the sword, as if a boulder had crushed his chest. He felt a sweet taste in his throat, stumbled, and involuntarily retreated several steps before barely managing to regain his footing.

"What a despicable scoundrel!"

Jiang Chengzhi's face flushed and paled in turns, his finger almost poking Zhu Hong's nose as he cursed, "Abandoning your sword to ambush him, resorting to such despicable tactics, how are you any different from rats and ants in a sewer?"

Zhu Hong stood rooted to the spot, letting out a soft "sneer" through his nose, a cold, mocking smile playing on his lips.

"His swordsmanship is crude, so it's no wonder that Young Master Jiang can't understand it."

"You...good, very good." Jiang Chengzhi's chest heaved with emotion, and after a long while, he managed to choke out a sentence:

"You lowly peasant, today I'll teach you what propriety and hierarchy are!"

"Is that so?" Upon hearing this, Zhu Hong's smile vanished, leaving only a clear and cold look in his eyes.

"You should definitely give it a try!"

Having said that, he didn't even glance at the iron sword that had been knocked away. He shifted his feet slightly, stood steadily with his shoulders relaxed and elbows drooping, his back straight as a pine tree, and his hands loosely clasped in front of his abdomen, palms facing each other with fingertips slightly spread.

This is precisely the starting stance of Taizu Changquan:

Open the door to welcome guests.

"What? You've abandoned your sword, so you're going to resort to this country bumpkin's raucous punches?"

Jiang Chengzhi stood with his sword drawn. Seeing him display such rudimentary fist techniques, he was first taken aback, then his eyes practically overflowed with contempt: "You've run out of tricks, you have no other skills. No way," he sneered.

"It's not too late for you to admit defeat."

The crowd below the stage erupted in a commotion, with whispers and murmurs growing louder and louder.

"Has he gone mad?"

"Abandoning the sword for fists is tantamount to courting death!"

"Yes... Taizu Long Fist is just a health-preserving exercise. It's good enough if it's passed the martial arts demonstration. If you really use it to fight, wouldn't people laugh their heads off?"

"Come on, you guys! They don't even have money for new clothes, where are they going to learn any decent martial arts?"

Some people, growing impatient, frowned and rebuked:

"What, you're delivering it?"

"Hey, are you related to him or something?"

"..."

Zhu Hong ignored the clamor, his mind as still as a deep well. Though his ears were filled with noise, his eyes were fixed on Jiang Chengzhi alone.

畏？

He was naturally not afraid.

He was, after all, someone who had practiced the "Mountain Tiger Fist," a true killing and hard-hitting skill. If he were to actually use it, he could easily take down this pampered, spoiled martial arts school student.

Humph……

It's practically a piece of cake.

However, a common man is innocent, but possessing a treasure is a crime.

He has no roots or connections, and no powerful backers. If he were to expose such a trump card in front of everyone, he would not be admired, but rather face certain death.

"Is he a farmer?"

Zhu Hong slowly exhaled, his breath circulating in his chest and abdomen. His eyes suddenly sharpened like a hawk's, piercing straight into Jiang Chengzhi's eyes: "You'll know once you try."

Before he finished speaking, he took a step forward.

His body moved like a cheetah that had been poised for a long time, suddenly leaping out and pouncing straight at Jiang Chengzhi. His right fist was clenched tightly, his knuckles turning blue, and he delivered a simple and unadorned "advancing punch" straight for his opponent's heart.

"this one?"

Seeing that the punch wasn't particularly fast and the force seemed ordinary, Jiang Chengzhi's disdain deepened.

"With such rudimentary skills, you dare to show off in front of me!"

He didn't even bother to use his sword techniques. With a flick of his wrist, the longsword slashed down with a sharp, whistling sound, its spine reflecting the snow and exuding a chilling aura.

They actually intended to use the advantage of their weapons to directly sever this arrogant and ignorant fist.

Who would have thought!

Just as the sword's edge was about to touch the fist's edge.

Zhu Hongqian's momentum suddenly stopped. His outstretched right fist was suddenly withdrawn, turning into a palm with his five fingers slightly spread. He pressed down in a barely perceptible arc, like a gentle spring stream, lightly touching the side of Jiang Chengzhi's sword.

It wasn't a head-on collision, nor was it a block.

It is the ninth move of Emperor Taizu – Unloading Step and Blocking.

A gentle, resilient force emanated from his palm, not clashing head-on with the sword's sharpness, but instead gently guiding and leading along the sword's momentum.

Like water flowing around a rock, its subtle power is fully concealed.

"this……"

Jiang Chengzhi felt the long sword in his hand suddenly sink, as if it had been plunged into a sticky swamp, and most of his strength was dissipated.

His heart skipped a beat, and shame and anger surged like wildfire. He thought to himself, "This Taizu Fist has such skillful power? My sword stance was actually broken by him!"

In the blink of an eye, the force of his downward strike had involuntarily shifted by three points.

The sword's edge grazed Zhu Hong's side, merely tearing his already tattered coarse cloth clothes, sending up a wisp of fine fabric that drifted leisurely into the snow.

"Young Master Jiang's sword."

Zhu Hong kept his hand on the sword, a cold, faint smile flashing in his eyes, and said in a casual tone, "It doesn't seem that sharp."

"Arrogant!"

Jiang Chengzhi's face instantly turned red and then pale, his breathing becoming increasingly erratic, and he was about to shout angrily when Zhu Hong withdrew his palm strike, his figure following closely behind, and a storm of fists came flying towards him.

Progress is achieved through hard work and skillful application.

Single Whip Probing the Sea

Wild Horse Parts Mane —

Zhu Hong chanted the names of the moves, his fists clashing, each punch faster than the last, each strike aimed at Jiang Chengzhi's heart, ribs, and other vital points.

The whistling wind from the punches compressed all the space around him, even swirling the surrounding snow.

"You peasant, all you do is launch sneak attacks, you have absolutely no martial virtue!"

Jiang Chengzhi roared, his voice tinged with panic, as he repeatedly tried to twist and stab with his longsword.

But every time he started to strike with his sword, Zhu Hong's fist was already right in front of him, forcing him to hastily retract his sword, use the hilt to block, or awkwardly spin around to dodge. His brocade robe was swept by the wind of the fist, tearing a long gash, and snowflakes covered his clothes. His previous pride and dignity were completely gone.

"Is it on?"

Someone in the audience shouted.

The situation became increasingly tense, and Jiang Chengzhi, who was being beaten down, was like a fly caught in a spider web, becoming more and more passive the more he struggled.

actually:

Everyone could see that if Jiang Chengzhi abandoned his sword and switched to fists, he might be able to fight to the death.

But he refused to give up the sword.

"He's still too naive; he's all brawn and no brains."

Zhu Hong's feet moved with an unsightly but extremely steady wading through the mud, always staying within three feet of Jiang Chengzhi.

This is the essence of Changquan (Long Fist):

Once it gets close, it's like a maggot clinging to your bone.

"Get out of here! Get out of here!"

Jiang Chengzhi was in so much pain that he felt like he was going to vomit blood. From a young age, he had learned the demeanor of a master, emphasizing the balance of opening and closing, and the way a sword came from the west.

I've never encountered such a shameless tactic before.

Every time he tried to create distance, Zhu Hong would strike:

"Embracing the Moon and Sealing the Gate".

His arms blocked his path like iron gates. Did he want to change his move? Zhu Hong used "Wild Horse Parts Its Mane" again, forcefully breaking his stance.

What's most hateful is:

This peasant's fists were specifically aimed at the thickest, most painful spots on the body.

"Bang!"

A muffled thud.

Taking advantage of the moment when their bodies intersected, Zhu Hong slammed his right shoulder into Jiang Chengzhi's abdomen with a powerful thrust, landing squarely on Jiang's lower abdomen.

"Well……"

Jiang Chengzhi's once handsome face instantly turned a deep liver color, his eyes bulged, and he couldn't utter a sound, his body hunched over like a freshly cooked shrimp.

"How did that 'Mountain-Shaking Elbow' feel?"

Zhu Hong's voice was soft, even tinged with concern, but his feet moved swiftly, sliding to his side and delivering another crisp blow.

"Snapped!"

The crisp, pleasant sound of slaps echoed across the ring.

……