ryethenovel Chapter 16 The True Warrior
Chapter 16 The True Warrior
When Lin Fan took off his arm guards, Zhang Yang was still slumped on the ring mat, panting, his hair matted together with sweat on his forehead. He waved to Lin Fan, meaning, "You go first, I'll lie down for a while longer."
Lin Fan smiled, folded the protective gear and put it in the storage box in the corner of the arena, then pushed open the door and walked out of the arena room.
The air conditioning in the corridor was on full blast, and the cool breeze rushed onto my face, seeping into my pores along with my sweaty skin, so comfortable that I wanted to sigh.
He stretched his shoulders. Sanfan had already mastered the techniques of the Returning Mountain Fist. His next plan was to go back and look for instructional videos on the forum about the Dragon Form Fist.
He has mastered the basics of Dragon Form Fist, but he hasn't seriously practiced the fighting techniques yet, which is a significant gap.
As I was walking, two people came out from around the corner of the corridor ahead.
The man in front of me was wearing a black designer tracksuit and a mechanical watch that looked expensive on his wrist, and he walked with a brisk pace.
The one in the back was taller, with broad shoulders, and was wearing a dark gray tight-fitting training T-shirt, the muscle lines on his arms making the cuffs bulge.
Sun Hao.
Lin Fan didn't stop walking, nor did his pace change. Their eyes met briefly in the corridor, but neither spoke nor nodded.
Just as they brushed past each other, Sun Hao's eyes flickered slightly.
Lin Fan walked over, his footsteps gradually fading at the end of the corridor.
Sun Hao stopped and looked back at the figure that had disappeared at the top of the stairs, his lips pursed downwards.
"Young Master Sun, what are you looking at?" The tall young man next to him followed his gaze and saw only a figure in a white T-shirt coming downstairs.
"That kid must be here to learn practical combat skills." Sun Hao withdrew his gaze, his tone casual, but the fleeting coldness in his eyes still lingered.
He came to the martial arts school today for pre-exam training—although the college entrance exam is over, the admission notice from Shanghai Martial Arts University has not yet been issued. His father said that his boxing skills and fighting style are not yet proficient enough, and he was afraid that he would be crushed by his peers in college, so he specially enrolled him in the summer intensive course at Zhenshan Martial Arts School.
Unexpectedly, he ran into Lin Fan on his first visit.
He still remembers the phone call Zhang Hu made to him during the college entrance examination—"Lin Fan hit 3000 jin! He's the top scorer in the country!" The more he thought about the two things, the more disgusted he felt, like a piece of chewing gum stuck to the sole of his shoe, which he couldn't get rid of no matter how hard he rubbed.
"Brother Du, if you have the chance, teach him a lesson," Sun Hao said, turning to the tall young man beside him.
Du Fei chuckled, revealing a set of neat white teeth: "No problem." He answered casually, as if he were agreeing to a small favor that he could easily do.
Teaching a high school senior a lesson was indeed a piece of cake for him. He was from Jiangcheng and a freshman at a prestigious martial arts university in the provincial capital. He had awakened the low-grade Xuan-level martial spirit, the Rock-Splitting Fist, and had just broken through to the Qi Condensation Realm last semester, making him a true martial artist.
Between aspiring martial artists and true martial artists
It's just a matter of one punch.
"Don't worry, Young Master Sun, I'll teach him a lesson next time I see him."
Sun Hao nodded. He didn't say anything more, turned around and walked into the training area of the martial arts gym.
……
Lin Fan came again.
At nine o'clock in the morning, not long after the martial arts school opened, several students were already practicing punches on the sandbags in the main hall, the muffled sounds echoing in the empty training area.
Lin Fan greeted the receptionist with practiced ease and went straight to the designated arena room on the second floor. Zhang Yang was already waiting for him inside, sitting on the edge of the arena with his legs dangling over the edge, drinking a cup of soy milk.
"Junior brother, what are you practicing today?" Zhang Yang asked as he saw him come in. He put the soy milk on the small table in the corner and stood up.
"I'm not practicing the Returning Mountain Fist anymore. I want to practice something else." Lin Fan said as he picked up the protective gear and put it on. His movements were much more efficient than before. The helmet buckle went in one go, and the Velcro on the arm guards was pulled and stuck on in no time.
The sound of a door opening came from upstairs, and Lin Fan turned to look. Zhang Yang also turned, glancing towards the stairwell in the same direction, then shouted at the top of his lungs, "Du Fei! Perfect timing! Come spar with Lin Fan!"
Du Fei had just come out of the lounge when he glanced in this direction at the sound. He paused for a moment, then a slow smile crept onto his lips: "Sure, I've been itching to try it too."
He was still trying to figure out what excuse to use to make a move. Unexpectedly, Zhang Yang directly offered him a way out.
Du Fei strode over, his steps neither hurried nor slow, carrying a confident rhythm.
He walked to the edge of the ring, stopped, and looked down at Lin Fan, who was already warming up his wrists on the ring. He spoke in a condescending tone, though trying to appear friendly: "Lin Fan, right? I often hear Zhang Yang mention you. I heard you're quite good at the Returning Mountain Fist?"
Lin Fan looked up. Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, falling directly on Du Fei.
This person was a head taller than him, with broad shoulders, and the muscles in his arms weren't the exaggerated, deliberately muscular kind you see in the gym.
It is the slender shape that can only be honed through years of high-intensity boxing training—tight, smooth, and explosive power hidden in every muscle fiber.
Musha.
Qi Condensation Realm.
That word ignited the fighting spirit deep within him. He and Zhang Yang fought three battles.
Although he had mastered the techniques of the Returning Mountain Fist, he never had the chance to truly unleash his full power. He held back the nine layers of force in the Returning Mountain Fist and never dared to use the Dragon Form Fist from beginning to end, because he couldn't withstand Zhang Yang's strength.
But Du Fei is different; he is a true martial artist, and a punch weighing 3000 jin is nothing to him.
"Okay." Lin Fan nodded, and the light in his eyes made Du Fei frown slightly.
Zhang Yang rolled off the ring, tightened the elastic ropes tied to the four corners of the ring, and then checked the protective gear of both of them again.
He stood at the edge of the ring, looked at the two people on either side, and said, "Let's make this clear first: this is just a friendly spar, but we'll stop when we've reached a point of vulnerability. Alright, let's begin."
Du Fei stretched his neck and wrists, and the cracking sound from his joints was particularly clear in the empty arena.
He tightened the buckle on his arm guard, raised his eyes to look at Lin Fan opposite him, and a half-smile appeared on his lips.
"Have you been practicing Huishanquan (a style of Chinese martial arts) for a while now?" he asked.
"Yes," Lin Fan said.
"Then I'll fight you with the Returning Mountain Fist." Du Fei assumed the starting stance of the Returning Mountain Fist.
His Returning Mountain Fist is different from Zhang Yang's—he is already a Qi Condensation Realm martial artist, and the power of his martial soul has flowed through the eight extraordinary meridians. True Qi flows naturally within his body, so even the most basic Returning Mountain Fist can unleash power far exceeding that of a Body Refinement Realm martial artist with the amplification of true Qi.
No matter how well a student practices martial arts in high school, they can't last more than three rounds against him.
When the time comes, I'll knock this kid off the stage with one punch, which will fulfill Young Master Sun's request without making things too embarrassing.
However, Lin Fan shook his head.
"No." His tone was calm, as if he were talking about something trivial. "I won't be practicing the Returning Mountain Fist this time. Senior Brother Du, you can use any fist technique you like."
Du Fei's pupils contracted slightly.
Any style of boxing?