Cherishing Talent

A hero who used martial arts to defy the law was bound to invite trouble. And where there was trouble, how could the entertainment industry be absent?

The entertainment industry in this world was quite advanced. Whether it was black or white, aboveboard or underground, as long as you had influence, there was nothing you couldn't do.

Zhao Rui didn't need to guess where Yang Fan was taking him.

He'd spent half the afternoon at the martial arts school. No one had asked him to spar, so he'd waited around for hours.

It wasn't until evening that a young man in his twenties "picked" him.

The young man was a full-contact fighter—in other words, what people commonly called an underground boxer.

He often came to the martial arts school to hone his skills!

When Zhao Rui heard he was an underground boxer, his scalp went numb. These people fought on the ring in battles to the death.

Even if they were only training at the martial arts school, what if the other guy lost control for a moment and left him injured? That wouldn't be something to take lightly.

He'd come here without telling his family.

If anything looked amiss, there was no way he could hide it from them.

He'd meant to refuse, but then he thought: if martial arts training didn't include real combat, wouldn't it lose the very essence of the martial path?

Flowers raised in a greenhouse could never withstand the bitter cold or scorching heat.

This was a perfect chance to learn and experience things up close, without having to step into an underground ring. How could that not be a good thing?

Zhao Rui steeled himself and climbed into the ring.

"I hit pretty hard. If you can't take it, just raise your hand to let me know!"

A faint red scar slanted across the young man's forehead. It made him look rather fierce as he spoke.

His lean, wiry frame was clearly muscled, as if every trace of fat had been stripped away. Beneath his prominent collarbones, several more slanting scars stood out.

He looked nothing like the students Zhao Rui saw in his everyday life.

Even in his previous life, Zhao Rui had never seen a man with so many scars.

"Got it!"

Zhao Rui replied, crossing his palms and assuming the opening stance of Taihang Thirteen Palms: "Thousand-Cliff Cloud Lock."

Seeing Zhao Rui ready, the young man loosened up a little. Then he suddenly stomped both feet against the floor and charged like a ferocious tiger descending the mountain.

Zhao Rui didn't dare meet his charge head-on. Instead, he stepped back through the air, retreating to evade him.

The other man was like a shark that had caught the scent of blood. The moment Zhao Rui stepped back, he surged after him, his assault growing fiercer by the second.

Zhao Rui raised his palms to block, and his arms immediately went numb. The man looked so scrawny, yet he hit with astonishing force.

Zhao Rui's body swayed involuntarily. He stamped his feet rapidly and only then managed to steady himself.

The scarred young man's assault didn't let up. He clenched his left fist and drove it forward like a war drum booming, a gust of force rushing into Zhao Rui's face with a sharp hiss.

Zhao Rui turned his palm into a claw, like an ancient pine sending roots deep into the earth, and reached straight for the opponent's Jianjing acupoint. Once the other man dodged, he would seize the chance to lock his joints.

It was the second move of Taihang Thirteen Palms: Ten Thousand Ravines Hear Pines.

Their clash rang out like a thunderclap, swift and violent.

"Good!"

The scarred young man shouted. He thrust his hips forward and drove an elbow out, unleashing a set of Arhat Fist moves that broke Zhao Rui's joint lock in an instant.

The students training below heard the force of the punches and the rush of the palms, and gathered around. When they recognized the scarred young man, they couldn't help but gape in surprise.

They hurried to ask the coach who his sparring partner was.

When they heard it was the new sparring partner, their faces showed sudden understanding. As they looked back at the scene in the ring, a mocking note crept into their expressions.

"Brother Hong isn't someone just anyone can last against. I bet he'll hold out ten minutes!"

"I heard he's a high school student. Probably five minutes, tops!"

Zhao Rui paid no attention to the comments from below, nor did he have the time to. Right now, he was concentrating every ounce of focus on meeting each of the scarred young man's attacks.

"This won't do. Taihang Thirteen Palms has no internal techniques to support it. Relying on Ethereal Divine Skill alone, I won't last much longer!"

After blocking for several minutes, Zhao Rui felt his arms grow so numb and sore that they no longer seemed to belong to him.

At this rate, he'd show an opening in another minute or two and get hit.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, Zhao Rui changed moves in midair. Internal energy swirled through his palms, surging forward like clouds rolling across ten thousand miles.

He aimed straight for the vital points around his opponent's body.

The scarred man changed moves swiftly. He neither dodged nor retreated, but met Zhao Rui's palms head-on with both fists.

Zhao Rui didn't try to match his strength. As fist and palm met, he sprang into the air, turning three times in succession. He moved so fast that he seemed to leave a trail of afterimages.

Each time he appeared and paused, he struck out with both palms, each blow a feint. On the third strike, the feint turned real and hit straight for the Danzhong acupoint. Before the afterimage faded, his true body had already retreated.

The scarred young man couldn't figure out his pattern. His movements faltered, and he took a palm strike to the body.

Unfortunately, Zhao Rui didn't dare press the attack head-on. He lacked the force, so the blow only made the other man stagger twice.

"Not bad!"

The scarred young man wasn't angry. Instead, he looked pleased, a cruel smile curling at the corner of his mouth. He rushed forward and clashed with Zhao Rui again.

"Six minutes, seven minutes!... Ah, what a pity! What a pity!"

The students watching below let out a collective gasp. In the ring, the scarred young man had found an opening and chopped his palm into Zhao Rui's back.

Zhao Rui staggered. He shifted his left foot into the Two-Character Goat-Clamping Stance. As his opponent's fist came in, he used Wing Arm to stick to the man's arm.

His waist and stance turned like a millstone grinding the world around, leading the opponent's force off the centerline. He seized the momentum and used Plowing Hand to press downward.

He dissolved the scarred young man's attacks one by one. Then, from beneath his elbow, an explosive inch-force suddenly burst forth, like the birth of the Taiji from primordial chaos, and crashed forward.

It struck the scarred young man squarely in the left shoulder.

The two separated as quickly as they'd met, both swaying on their feet.

"Good! Impressive!"

The scarred man looked at Zhao Rui with a deep gaze and said with a frown, "Your kung fu is all over the place! Trying to swallow more than you can chew isn't a good idea."

"If it works, that's enough."

Zhao Rui gave a faint smile. His skills were different from everyone else's: he had mastered every one of them. As long as he kept honing them—or fully opened his acupoints—he'd be able to use them at will, without the slightest hitch.

"Ten minutes. This new sparring partner's impressive. He's probably one of the top students at his school. Wonder which school he goes to."

"I think I should learn a couple more martial arts too, just in case. A surprise attack is exactly my style!"

"Give it a rest. You haven't even figured out one style, and you want to learn another? You'll end up tearing yourself in half!"

The hubbub from below annoyed the scarred young man a little. He turned toward the tender-faced students and barked, "All of you, get out of here!"

The students twitched, but none dared talk back. With all sorts of expressions on their faces, they moved away from the ring.

The coach smiled awkwardly, then sprang into the ring and stepped between Zhao Rui and the scarred young man. "All right, that's enough for now. Take a break."

The fight had only lasted ten minutes, but for Zhao Rui, it was by far the most perilous one he'd ever experienced.

Every move had been vicious, every attack fierce. There hadn't been a single chance to catch his breath.

If his internal energy hadn't recently increased by three years' worth, it probably would have started to stutter as he circulated it!

"Brother Hong, I'm going to rest a bit. I'm running low on internal energy."

Zhao Rui shed the cold indifference he'd shown during their clash. Now he wore the shyness and bashfulness of a boy his age.

Brother Hong was taken aback. Only then did he realize that the man before him was just a student who'd recently graduated from high school.

"Go ahead and rest."

At that, Zhao Rui hurried down from the ring, grabbed an energy drink, and gulped it down.

In a world where science and martial arts coexisted, without true energy, all the laws of physics were the same as in his previous life.

But once this mysterious true energy, seemingly like dark matter, was added to the mix, everything changed.

After finishing his drink, Zhao Rui guided his breath and regulated his energy, restoring what he'd lost.

The scarred young man, Brother Hong, went over to the lounge area and lit a cigarette, taking a couple of drags as he exhaled clouds of smoke.

The coach saw him, but didn't stop him. Naturally, no one else dared stick their neck out and say anything.

Five or six minutes later, Brother Hong returned to the ring and leaned against a pillar. In an unhurried voice, he said, "You're young, but your skills are pretty good. Interested in fighting underground?"

Hearing him, Zhao Rui opened his eyes. "I'm still in school."

"School? What a load of crap. How much money can you make?"

Brother Hong spat and said, "In this world, only strength and money matter."

"Forget it. You wouldn't understand anyway!"

A trace of self-mockery tugged at Brother Hong's lips. Then he beckoned Zhao Rui over. "Let's continue!"

At that, Zhao Rui got to his feet, a spark of fighting spirit rising in his eyes.

An hour later, Zhao Rui followed the coach into the treatment room, rubbing his swollen, reddened shoulder.

"This is a famous bruise ointment from Shangdu. It works fast."

"What's got you so down? You did great. Which martial arts school are you affiliated with? Why not come join ours?"

As he spoke, the coach spread ointment over Zhao Rui's shoulder.

"I saw you use Cloud Hand Palm. Could you be Li Da Naodai's disciple?"

Zhao Rui nodded and asked, "You know my master?"

"Who in the whole old district doesn't know him! That—"

The coach had been about to say something, but quickly stopped himself. It wouldn't be right to badmouth Zhao Rui's master in front of his disciple.

Zhao Rui couldn't be bothered to ask. He knew perfectly well what Li Da Naodai was like.

But a day as a master meant a lifetime as a father. A disciple was better off asking and hearing less.

"Even compared with me, Hong Fei's internal energy isn't far behind. He's got plenty of fighting experience, too. The fact that you lasted so long against him is already impressive."

The coach clearly hated to see such talent go to waste. Unfortunately, Zhao Rui already belonged to a school, and he was heading to university to pursue the path of a Professional Martial Artist.