Punching Power, One Ton

Martial arts gyms like this did exist in the Seventh District.

But those in the Seventh District were called martial arts gyms, while those in District Three were Martial Arts Academies. A single word apart, yet as different as heaven and earth.

The former were mostly places that taught fighting techniques.

Naturally, their fees, environment, and everything else could not be mentioned in the same breath.

Hong Ji Martial Arts Hall occupied five floors. There were several pretty receptionists alone, and nearly a hundred attendants serving the students.

And this Snake Fist Gym before him—

Looked more like a large fitness center.

"Sir, would you like to learn about combat fitness?" The moment he reached the entrance, a young, radiant saleswoman warmly approached him.

"Our Snake Fist Gym is an old-established martial arts gym. Our School Master is a Second Refinement super expert. Our annual membership costs only 19,800. Not only will you receive the School Master's personal guidance, but experienced martial arts instructors will also serve as your private coaches."

Zhang Fusheng silently walked around the saleswoman—she was clearly a student working a summer part-time job, with stale and clumsy sales patter.

After paying the one-time entry fee at the door, the saleswoman relentlessly caught up with him again.

"Sir, our single-entry fee is as high as one hundred yuan. You can only use the gym's basic facilities, without combat instruction or a private coach. Why not consider an annual membership instead?"

She said enthusiastically,

"If you become one of our distinguished annual members now, we'll also give you ten nutritional supplement sessions and ten medicinal bath sessions, worth more than three thousand yuan in total."

Zhang Fusheng looked at the saleswoman clinging to him like dogskin plaster and said helplessly,

"How much commission do you get for closing a sale?"

"Five thousand." Zhong Yue hurriedly covered her mouth.

"Twenty-five percent?" Zhang Fusheng clicked his tongue in wonder. "Your School Master is pretty generous, huh? Giving such a high commission?"

Zhong Yue's expression turned bitter.

"Sir, why don't you get an annual membership? I'll give you my commission. The annual membership will only cost 13,800!"

Having just become a true martial artist, Zhang Fusheng was in a good mood. He asked with interest,

"Then wouldn't you earn a single cent? What are you after?"

The girl fidgeted for a moment and whispered,

"We also get bonuses based on sales volume. The first annual membership gets a two-hundred-yuan bonus!"

Zhang Fusheng rummaged through his pockets and shrugged.

"Do I look like someone with money?"

Yet Zhong Yue seriously thought it over before nodding.

"You do."

Zhang Fusheng laughed. He glanced at the name tag on her chest: Zhong Yue.

He said nothing more and walked into the martial arts gym. There were quite a few people in the practice area at the center—around twenty students, following a young man as they practiced punches and kicks.

Zhong Yue skipped after him, seemingly having taken a particular liking to the first customer of her workday.

"The one teaching them is Senior Brother Wang, our Snake Fist Gym's chief instructor and the School Master's eldest disciple. He's already close to the First Refinement in martial arts, and his Snake Fist is practiced to the point of divine mastery!"

Zhang Fusheng did not answer. He stood where he was and watched for a while. This so-called chief instructor did cut a decent figure when he threw punches, his fists and legs stirring the wind.

But he had technique in abundance and strength in short supply, giving off an altogether weightless feeling.

"Well?" Zhong Yue asked tentatively. "Senior Brother Wang is impressive, right? You can start with a monthly membership too, and learn boxing along with them."

"And monthly memberships are cheap—just 1,888!"

Zhang Fusheng glanced at her.

"Not interested."

He did not like this sort of dogskin-plaster sales pitch.

Zhong Yue's little face fell.

"If you really aren't interested, then you can't stay here for long. Be careful—if Senior Brother Wang notices later, he might say you're stealing techniques?"

She sighed.

"How about I bring you a glass of water first?"

"No need. I'm just here to try the equipment." Zhang Fusheng waved a hand.

"Fine. You really won't get a membership?" Zhong Yue made one final effort. "Senior Brother Wang is highly skilled in Snake Fist. Ordinary groups of three or five people can't even get close to him. He's a famous expert around here!"

The noise made Zhang Fusheng's head buzz. He said irritably,

"He has more posture than power. If three or five people really surrounded him, they wouldn't even need to know boxing. If they all rushed him at once, a flurry of random punches could knock him over."

His voice had risen slightly. The students practicing their punches all turned to look, including that "chief instructor."

When Zhong Yue saw Senior Brother Wang's faintly furrowed brow, she inwardly cried out in alarm and laughed awkwardly.

"Customer, the equipment area is next door. Come with me."

"Hold it."

Senior Brother Wang called out coolly,

"This little brother seems to know quite a bit about martial arts?"

Zhang Fusheng knew he had misspoken. Someone else was teaching boxing, and he had made a comment like that from the sidelines. It did rather carry the air of smashing their signboard.

He smiled with a hint of apology.

"I really haven't practiced martial arts. I was just talking nonsense. Sorry."

The young man's expression remained cold. He glanced at the students watching the excitement, and an idea turned in his mind.

He said calmly,

"Since you've come to a martial arts gym, you must have some foundation. Practicing empty forms truly is useless; actual combat is the hard truth. Little brother, why don't you and I exchange a few moves and lend each other a hand?"

Zhang Fusheng raised a brow and repeated,

"I don't know martial arts."

He was telling the truth. Up to now, he had not even attended a combat class, so naturally he did not know martial arts.

He merely possessed the strength of the First Refinement.

"No matter."

The young man strolled over, one hand behind his back, the other slightly raised. He beckoned Zhang Fusheng over with a smile.

"I'll give you one hand, then give you three moves as well. Let's see whether little brother can get close to me, whether your random punches can knock me down."

He bit down particularly hard on the words "random punches."

Petty-minded.

Zhang Fusheng's lips twitched. He had only come to the Snake Fist Gym to use the Punching Power Machine and see how strong he was now.

Still, he had been at fault first, and he could not exactly beat the other man up.

But judging by the chief instructor's relentless manner, he probably would not let the matter rest.

Zhang Fusheng did not respond. He simply walked toward the Punching Power Machine nearby.

The young man's expression darkened. He stamped his foot and sprang forward, his steps kicking up dust as he moved to press in. He was still shouting,

"Little brother, you're not here to challenge the gym, are you? Then I'll test your depth and see just what exactly—"

Bang!

Zhang Fusheng planted his feet, twisted his waist, swung his arm, and punched.

His fist struck the soft pad of the testing machine.

The number on the LCD screen soared as the electronic voice calmly announced,

"Your punching power value is 1,042 jin."

Senior Brother Wang, who had rushed forward, abruptly slammed on the brakes. The coldness on his face transformed into a warm smile.

"Brother, you truly are a High Person. I was disrespectful just now."

The fist-palm he had been about to chop down smoothly changed into a clasped-hands salute, performed with textbook precision.

The practice area fell utterly silent.

"O-One thousand jin?" someone said blankly. Zhong Yue blinked in confusion and swallowed.

Sweat seeped across the young man's forehead. He could see at a glance that Zhang Fusheng's exertion technique was far from standard.

Yet even under such circumstances, one punch had delivered half a ton of force. Damn it, he was absolutely a First Refinement martial artist!

There were actually quite a few First Refinement martial artists in the Federation. Excluding children, roughly one in every hundred people was a First Refinement martial artist.

But the problem was that ninety percent of them were middle-aged people over thirty, even over forty, who had ground their way up through sheer time.

A First Refinement martial artist around twenty years old was either the personal disciple of some famous expert or a martial arts student from a prestigious school!

With that thought, the young man clasped his hands again in an even humbler salute.

Zhang Fusheng was somewhat silent.

Turning one's attitude around so quickly and so smoothly was a kind of ability in itself.

He gave the young man a slight nod and did not care much—he would never come here again anyway.

After pondering for a moment, Zhang Fusheng tried adjusting the angle of his punch and the sequence of his force generation. He raised his fist again and swung.

Thud!!

The Punching Power Machine let out a tremendous boom.

"Your punching power value is 1,387 jin." The electronic voice announced it woodenly.

Entering the First Refinement had given Zhang Fusheng five hundred jin of strength in both arms for no reason at all. Together with his original strength and the benefits of the specially supplied nutritional supplements,

The strength in both his arms was probably around seven hundred jin.

This referred to sustained strength, like a bench press. If it was the instantaneous force of a punch, it would be considerably greater. With proper force generation, even doubling it would not be difficult.

After adjusting his stance once more, Zhang Fusheng slightly activated the Spring Thunder Technique, took a deep breath, and threw his third punch.

Accompanied by a faint, nearly imperceptible thunderous sound from his sinews and bones.

Thud!!!

"Your punching power value is 2,013 jin."

The practice area was now so quiet that only breathing remained.

Even after Zhang Fusheng drifted away, no one spoke. They merely stared blankly at the terrifying number on the display.

"One ton..." someone murmured.