That kick had been vicious, but Zhang Tie, who'd been ready for it, dodged even faster. His body tilted aside in an instant, and the little brat's kick struck empty air. But before Zhang Tie could feel pleased with himself, the little brat's fist was already flying toward his chest. Wanting to test the boy's strength, Zhang Tie raised his arm to block. The little brat's fist slammed into his armored forearm with a dull thud. A tremendous force surged through Zhang Tie's arm, leaving it numb and making him stumble back a step. Zhang Tie was secretly astonished. He hadn't expected a kid two or three years younger than him to be so fierce. The force behind that punch was nearly equal to one of Zhang Tie's full-power punches. From that single blow, Zhang Tie could tell the little brat was slightly stronger than he was—second only to Baghdad in the Airplane Brotherhood.
If they were really fighting one-on-one, Zhang Tie wouldn't have been intimidated. After all, he was a few years older, and had the advantage in height and weight. It wasn't as if he'd have no chance to fight back; he might even be able to hold his own. But if he had to be a human punching bag and could only take hits without returning them, then deciding the winner would be easy.
Wearing a thick set of protective gear, Zhang Tie was certainly safer from his opponent's blows, but the gear also affected his agility. He endured a few more exchanges, and then his reactions slowed by the slightest fraction. The little brat seized the opening and kicked Zhang Tie in the chest, sending him flying and crashing heavily to the ground.
The fall left Zhang Tie seeing stars. On top of that, the impact to his chest made him feel as though he couldn't breathe. It took him a long time to pull himself up, panting. As soon as he got to his feet, he saw Mary, that hateful woman, tenderly wiping the little brat's sweat with a towel and planting two hearty kisses on his face. The little brat still wore a cocky expression as he drank his water, looking down at Zhang Tie with scorn.
"I thought you were supposed to be strong. Turns out you're just a good-for-nothing—you couldn't even last a few moves!"
Arguing with a clueless little brat like that felt beneath Zhang Tie. Was he supposed to tell the kid that every blow landing on him was helping his Iron Fetus Body-Tempering Fruit ripen? That the kid was really here working for him? Ha! How wonderful...
Manjusaka Karma Myriad Fruit Tree, I love you! Zhang Tie shouted in his heart...
A mocking smile appeared on Zhang Tie's face beneath his hood. Once he relaxed, he didn't take the loss to heart at all. After standing up again, he flexed his hands and feet, took a couple of deep breaths, and found that apart from some lingering pain in his chest, he was fine. Then he beckoned to the little brat with a finger again.
"Kaman, you're despicable!"
The anger on the little brat's face flashed and vanished. He set down his water bottle and charged again. Just seven or eight minutes later, a sweeping kick sent Zhang Tie flying once more. He crashed heavily to the ground and didn't get up for half a minute.
By then, the little brat was already breathing hard.
"Kaman, you're despicable!"
More than twenty minutes later, Zhang Tie's guard was broken. The little brat seized his chance and landed four or five quick punches on his chest. Each punch knocked Zhang Tie back a step. After Zhang Tie had retreated five steps, the little brat let out a roar. Before Zhang Tie could react, the boy stepped in with a Bow Stance and drove his elbow hard into Zhang Tie's lower abdomen. The blow made the blood vessels in Zhang Tie's neck throb with pain, and a string of golden stars burst into his vision...
Zhang Tie's lower abdomen was soft, so the blow didn't send him flying. Instead, his left leg suddenly gave way, as if he'd stepped onto cotton, and he dropped to one knee. The instant that knee hit the ground, he felt a gust of wind by his ear. Without even thinking, he instinctively used the move Arno had taught him: he lowered his head and shielded it with his arms.
With a dull thump, his arms blocked the vicious kick, but the force still passed through to Zhang Tie without losing any of its power. The kick knocked him down, and he rolled several times before stopping two meters away. Then he lay motionless.
The little brat who'd knocked Zhang Tie down again stood there panting, drenched in sweat, his eyes fixed on Zhang Tie lying on the ground. This kind of fight drained a tremendous amount of stamina from both the attacker and the defender.
At the Iron Thorn Combat Hall, there were actually very few sparring partners like Zhang Tie who spent an entire match serving as human punching bags. A sparring partner's purpose wasn't just to take hits. More often, they helped the members who came to the hall learn and improve their combat skills. That couldn't be achieved by taking blows alone; it also required plenty of discussion and insight. The value of a sparring partner for a high-level fighter was really comparable to that of a renowned master who constantly guided others toward improvement. During a spar, they could spot mistakes in an opponent's attacks, weaknesses in their offense, openings in their techniques, problems with their attacking rhythm, and serious issues that might arise in actual combat because of a person's particular mental habits—and then help correct them. That was how they helped an opponent take their combat skills to the next level. Such gold-medal sparring partners, often alongside the hall's resident masters, were among the most valuable people in a combat hall. Zhang Tie was new to the profession and still too low-level to come into contact with the best in the field. As for the opponent he'd met today, the trouble had come from a woman. The other party had come intending to beat him up and naturally hadn't held back, so today's match had been especially grueling...
If anyone else Zhang Tie's age had taken this kind of beating, they might have broken down long ago. Even if they didn't, seeing themselves knocked down and trounced by a little brat again and again might have filled them with frustration and a sense of failure, making their whole spirit collapse.
Lying on the ground, Zhang Tie wasn't thinking about any of that. He was thinking about the little brat's last kick. Once he'd come to his senses, he realized he shouldn't have shielded his head with his arms. He should have used the other method Arno had taught him: actively "welcoming" the kick with the toughest part of his body, his shoulder and back. The result would have been better, and he would have suffered less damage. When faced with an attack that couldn't be avoided, there was a choice between passively dodging and blocking or actively taking the blow and meeting it head-on. A single thought could make all the difference. But dodging and defending were human instincts; overcoming them with a calm mind in the face of life and death was impossible without being tempered a thousand times over.
Once he'd figured that out, Zhang Tie slowly struggled back to his feet. Those few hits from the little brat should have nudged the Iron Fetus Fruit's ripening progress in Castle of Black Iron forward a little. Ha, he couldn't wait to see it! Let those little brats hit him even harder! They were working for him, and he wasn't paying them a cent. He just hoped no one accused him of abusing child labor, ha... ha...
Different perspectives on the same thing led to completely different feelings. Different feelings led to different attitudes, and different attitudes led to different outcomes. As those different outcomes accumulated, one after another, they became each person's different fate. Zhang Tie didn't know any of this just then, but because of the little tree, he was already facing the blows that most people feared with a perspective and feelings far beyond theirs, without even realizing it.
Zhang Tie felt that he was slowly starting to find joy in this work that seemed so hard, so grueling, and so inhuman. That joy was like finding the legendary Fountain of Youth in the bitter sea of the desert. It hadn't made him despondent or depressed; instead, it filled him with vitality.
As Zhang Tie slowly got back up, recovering his strength, the little brat and Mary watched in astonishment while he rolled his neck and shoulders, testing how they felt. Then he beckoned to the little brat again.
"Kaman, you're despicable!"
A few minutes later, Zhang Tie was knocked down again, then got back up, still optimistic and unconcerned...
"Kaman, you're despicable!"
"Kaman, you're despicable!"
From the sidelines, Mary watched Zhang Tie get knocked down again and again, only to stand back up each time, unconcerned, as if he hadn't had enough of being beaten. Though he was the one taking the blows, he kept provoking his opponent. A trace of fear had crept into Mary's eyes, though she herself didn't understand it. In her eyes, Zhang Tie's hood seemed to grow more and more savage and powerful.
By now, he'd lost count of how many times. When Zhang Tie struggled to get up again, every inch of him ached, and all two hundred of his bones felt as though they'd been scattered apart. At last, he realized he simply couldn't stand anymore, so he sat on the ground and panted.
His clothes were soaked with sweat and clung to his skin. Sweat from his head had seeped into his eyes, making them sting and blur. Zhang Tie tried to undo the wretched hood that felt like it was about to crush his neck so he could wipe the sweat away. But after fumbling around on his head, he couldn't find the thin cord tied behind it. Then he realized he could barely lift his arms.
A bottle of water rolled to a stop by his feet. Zhang Tie managed to open his eyes and looked over. The little brat had also collapsed onto the ground, looking a little pale. His sweat-soaked hair lay lifelessly against his head as he gulped down water from a bottle. He no longer looked at Zhang Tie with that lofty scorn; instead, there was something hard to name in his eyes. Mary was crouched behind the little brat, giving him a recovery massage. She didn't even look at Zhang Tie.
Zhang Tie didn't stand on ceremony. He grabbed the glass bottle that had rolled to his feet and opened it. Just as he was about to drink, he realized he was still wearing the hood and could only breathe through a few rows of holes where his mouth should have been. Not wanting anyone to notice he was now too weak even to take off his hood, Zhang Tie coolly capped the bottle again.
The two men stared at each other, gasping for breath. After a while, the little brat staggered to his feet, his cocky look returning. "Remember my name. I'm Beneta, Andrew Beneta. Next time, I'll beat you so badly you won't be able to get up. I won't stop until you apologize to Mary!"
Zhang Tie couldn't be bothered to argue with a little brat like that. He only said, "I'll be here the day after tomorrow..."
The little brat and Mary left the room. Looking at Mary's back, Zhang Tie couldn't resist teasing her again. "Sister Mary, remember our promise in this life!"
Mary's back swayed, and she looked as if she was about to fall over...
Did one sentence from him really have that much effect? Zhang Tie scratched his head in confusion, only to find that his hand touched a thick layer of leather. Damn, who'd invented this hood that was so hard to take off...
Thank you all for sending reinforcements! Latest battle report—in everyone's support, Castle of Black Iron has risen from twelfth to seventh on the weekly recommendation rankings, taking five cities in a row. The 308 brave warriors sent by our brothers have dug in and are fighting! Magnificent!