One Round
"Isn't he too young to be in the ring? Isn't he afraid of getting beaten to death?"
Xiao Wei had heard many martial arts-world anecdotes from her master, Old Grandmaster He.
Among them were quite a few stories of martial artists being killed or injured while sparring with one another.
Martial arts had originated as lethal combat techniques used to decide life and death on the battlefield. Every strike was meant to take a life; fists and feet had no eyes, so deaths and injuries were perfectly normal. That was why so many grudges had been passed down.
The boy was only in his teens, not even an adult, yet he was challenging men in their forties and fifties. If anything went wrong, even his whole school and family would probably be too devastated to cry.
"Once you step into the ring, your life and death are up to fate!"
Old Grandmaster He, the master of Hundred Step Divine Fist, spoke calmly.
"Having mastered the civil and martial arts, one should offer one's talents to the emperor." What right did ordinary people have to do business with the emperor? Only the upper and middle classes had the qualifications to say such a thing. If you stood in that position, you had to pay the price that came with it.
Whether in letters or martial arts, anyone who wanted to make a name for themselves had to face countless challenges. They had to pass five checkpoints and defeat six generals. Only those who persevered could rise above the rest and earn the right to offer their "wares"—their talents—to the nation.
People died from studying. How much more so from practicing martial arts?
Rip! Little Yu'er tore open another bag of yak beef jerky and asked curiously, "Master, can I