Because the nation poured vast resources into schools to cultivate Martial Practitioners who could fight the Heavenly Demons, not to raise hothouse flowers, pampered and coddled.
After Meng Chuan stepped down from the ring, he began watching the others.
Zong Ping and the Hu family's second son, who practiced Ape Form, were fighting fiercely, but Zong Ping surpassed his opponent by a wide margin in both blood-qi strength and combat experience.
Sure enough, after more than twenty exchanges, Zong Ping struck his opponent in the heart with a tiger claw, sending him flying off the ring with a single punch. He won with ease.
The matches continued.
Qi Fei and the Hu family's eldest son each defeated their opponents and smoothly advanced to the top eight.
They both turned solemn gazes toward Meng Chuan and Zong Ping, regarding the pair as formidable rivals and secretly planning their strategies.
The principal announced that the winners should catch their breath and rest where they were. A while later, the second-round draw began.
The spectators gathered around weren't idle either. They were eagerly debating who would take first place.
The Traditionalists believed Qi Fei would win. Even if his blood-qi was a little lower, he could still prevail on the strength of his combat experience.
The Reformists, meanwhile, thought Meng Chuan or Zong Ping were stronger.
Though the two were still young, their blood-qi strength was plain for all to see; they could overtake their elders from behind.
[First match: Lin Mosheng vs. Zong Ping]
[Third match: Meng Chuan vs. Hu Jiaxiang]
"Big brother, be careful!"
The Hu family's second son was worried for his big brother, Hu Jiaxiang. What he least wanted was for him to face Meng Chuan so early.
That kid was too strange. He'd practiced Guoyi Fist at school every day, yet his blood-qi value was so high. No one could make sense of his style.
Zong Ping easily dispatched his opponent once more. His Tiger Form Fist was ferocious, and it took only a few moves to knock the other fighter off the ring.
When it was Meng Chuan's turn to step up, he clasped his fists and introduced himself.
"Pao Fist, trained at Infinite Martial Arts Hall."
Hu Jiaxiang was a little nervous, but he smiled as he replied:
"Hu Jiaxiang, White Ape Fist, trained at Ape God Martial Arts Hall."
"Please."
Meng Chuan let his opponent make the first move. This was his first time facing someone who used Ape Form, and he wanted a good look at it.
"Careful, junior!"
Hu Jiaxiang was like Tarzan of the Apes, leaping back and hooking one hand around a support pillar at the edge of the ring.
Leaning against the ropes, he used their rebound to launch himself toward Meng Chuan, then drove a punch down from above.
"Ape Form really does have some tricks. You can even use the ring's layout to your advantage."
As he thought this, Meng Chuan planted his feet and turned aside, deflecting the punch.
Seeing this, Hu Jiaxiang went straight for a killing move: Spirit Monkey Steals the Peach!
His legs were astonishingly supple. He dropped into a full split, then smoothly reached with his right hand for Meng Chuan's vital point.
"This young man has no honor!"
Meng Chuan frowned inwardly, then powered through a backflip and easily dodged.
Once he landed, he aimed for his opponent's vital point as well, sweeping a kick straight at his groin—giving him a taste of his own medicine.
Hu Jiaxiang was still in his split and hadn't pulled his legs back. Seeing his vital point in danger, he hurriedly covered it with one hand.
Thud! Meng Chuan kicked him over onto the ground.
After getting back up, Hu Jiaxiang hopped around like a monkey from Mount Emei, rubbing his hands together in alternating circles.
Meng Chuan didn't give his opponent a moment to catch his breath. He raised his arm like a cannon mount, and his fierce fists came crashing in like cannonballs. Hu Jiaxiang could only rely on his Ape Form footwork, springing and leaping this way and that to dodge.
The ring was only so big. After dodging more than ten punches, Hu Jiaxiang finally gave Meng Chuan an opening. One Sky-Piercing Cannon hammered him to the ground.
As soon as he fell, Hu Jiaxiang hurriedly raised his hand and surrendered.
"I give up!"
"Don't be so underhanded next time."
Meng Chuan smiled as he helped him up.
"Sorry, I practice Ape Form. In the heat of the moment, I just couldn't help myself..."
Hu Jiaxiang's face flushed red. He could tell that Meng Chuan had held back just now.
With Meng Chuan's mastery of Ming Jin, if he'd put all his strength into it, that kick to the hand covering Hu Jiaxiang's groin would have been enough to break his hand.
After Qi Fei won the fourth match, Meng Chuan, Zong Ping, Qi Fei, and one lucky competitor advanced to the semifinals.
Meng Chuan was rather lucky: he drew the competitor who had only just reached the Third Gate. He beat him in no time, then sat back to watch the remaining two tigers fight it out.
Qi Fei rubbed his fists together, full of fighting spirit. Meng Chuan hadn't shown his full strength so far, and his blood-qi value was miles ahead of everyone else's. Qi Fei couldn't help feeling a little intimidated.
"This guy named Zong Ping isn't much stronger than me in blood-qi, and he's got the foulest mouth. I'll fight him!"
He'd probably lose if he ran into Meng Chuan later anyway, so Qi Fei decided to spend every last ounce of strength in this match and teach Zong Ping a harsh lesson!
Zong Ping and Qi Fei both practiced Xingyi Fist's Tiger Form. The two clashed like tigers who could not share a mountain, savagely trading blows. More than ten minutes passed, and still neither had won.
In the end, Zong Ping proved a little stronger. He won with a previously unseen, beginner-level second-rate fist technique: Tiger Roaring in the Forest Fist.
Qi Fei then defeated Meng Chuan's previous opponent to take third place. After resting and regulating his breathing for a while, Zong Ping began his match against Meng Chuan for first place.
The turn of events was too unpredictable.
No one could have imagined it. Before everyone had their blood-qi measured, they'd been discussing whether the Hu brothers or Qi Fei would take first place today.
Yet now, two first-year students were fighting for the top spot.
Still, everyone accepted the result. They'd all seen Meng Chuan and Zong Ping's strength for themselves.
Most of the students present practiced Xiangxing Fist, and Tiger Form made up the majority among them. Now, they were all cheering for Zong Ping.
"Xiangxing is Number One Under Heaven!"
"The fierce tiger is invincible! Brother Zong, take him down!"
The few who practiced Xingyi were also shouting encouragement to Meng Chuan:
"Beat those Tiger Form braggarts to a pulp!"
"Go, Meng Chuan! Show them that Xingyi is the strongest!"
Hearing the cheers from all around, Meng Chuan felt a stir of emotion.
There hadn't been nearly this many spectators beneath the ring when he'd fought Le Ping at the martial arts hall.
But he didn't lose his nerve. He quietly steadied himself.
One day, he'd stand on a stage that shone even brighter. This was nothing!
As the crowd fell quiet, Zong Ping spoke first:
"I always knew we'd meet in the final."
"I'd meant to save Tiger Roaring in the Forest Fist for you. What a pity. But you still won't be a match for me."
Meng Chuan smiled and said:
"Good. Let's see what makes you so confident."
Meng Chuan gestured for him to make his move.
Like a fierce tiger charging down from a mountaintop, Zong Ping's palm came slashing in with a roar, cutting through the air.
His opponent wasn't any slower than he was. Meng Chuan didn't dare be careless.
He immediately pushed his advanced Cun Step to its limit, turned sideways, and stamped his right foot hard on the ring. Using the recoil, he narrowly dodged the palm.
But the tiger palm still caught the hem of his clothes. With a sharp rip, a huge hole tore open at the waist of his uniform.
"Good thing I'm wearing a school uniform."
Meng Chuan reacted quickly. His clothes had already been torn—he couldn't just keep dodging without striking back, could he?
He roared, and his aura surged skyward!
Then he lunged forward. His left arm rose, elbow bent and fist turned inward before his forehead, while his right arm drew back to gather strength, palm held as if gripping something. A cannonball was ready to fire.
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