Infinite Brilliant Scroll

Chapter 18
When Guan Luoyang noticed Long Wuchang's stalking, the coach who was still in the small ancestral hall also noticed something strange outside the door.

Ma Zhixing was sitting on the futon in the small ancestral hall holding a brocade box of ancient paintings. He had just been hit. leave.

However, as soon as the two of them arrived in the courtyard, they felt that the peripheral light was dim, and a slender shadow was projected from the roof, extending from the front of the house to the courtyard wall, as if dividing the entire courtyard into two halves.

A curly-haired, blue-eyed Englishman had stood on the roof at some point, overlooking the courtyard.

The courtyard door was pushed open with a bang, the embroidered iron lock was snapped violently, cobwebs fluttered, dust was everywhere, and a strong foreigner who seemed to be as tall as the door walked in.

"You are Ma Zhixing, right? Hello, I am Dimon Seymour."

The blue-eyed young man on the roof only glanced at the instructor, and all his attention was on Ma Zhixing.

To be more precise, he was just staring at the brocade box in Ma Zhixing's hand at all, not paying attention to Ma Zhixing's appearance at all, but he was still talking.

"Maybe you are very unfamiliar with this name, but you just need to know that the Guangzhou General's Mansion sent someone to your house to buy an ancient painting, and the real buyer of that painting is me."

"You!?" Ma Zhixing's face showed a sudden look, and his lips trembled.

He finally understood why his father, who had endured it, would suddenly turn his back on the people in the General's Mansion.

Dimon Seymour is very fluent in Chinese, and said: "The people in the General's Mansion had some misunderstandings with your father, and they did a very bad job, so this time to show my sincerity, I didn't bring them here. As long as you bring the painting Leave it to me, and I can tell them one more sentence, so that you can rest easy and don't have to hide in such a panic anymore."

"Hahaha!"

Ma Zhixing smiled angrily, and when he opened his mouth, there was a light blood stain, which was bleeding from the root of his teeth just now, "Should I thank you for your kindness? I am an ancient Chinese painting, a thousand-year-old painting. Zhenbao, what reason is there to give it to a robber like you who comes to rob you?"

Dimon Seymour said lightly: "There are many ancient philosophers in your country. It seems that someone left a saying that if virtue is not worthy, there will be disasters. Some things are beyond your ability to bear, and you should let those who are capable People come to own it."

Seymour turned his eyes to the coach, and suddenly changed the subject, "Speaking of which, after arriving here, I found out that there is such a strong fighter beside you. He didn't show up at your house before, but he was able to meet you here. , and even showed a protective attitude towards you, contacting the fireworks event last night, I am afraid his identity is a bit wrong."

Ma Zhixing tightened his palms and stared at him.

Seymour continued: "I am a person who cherishes myself very much. If it is not necessary, I will never bother to provoke a master fighter. As long as you give me the painting, your whereabouts, what you are going to do, It has nothing to do with me."

"you you……"

Ma Zhixing felt dizzy for a while, and his fingertips felt cold, but he looked at the instructor and then at the painting in his hand, his whole body seemed to tremble, but he still gradually let go of his palm.

The instructor suddenly patted him on the shoulder: "Hold your painting tightly."

Ma Zhixing tremblingly said: "But we..."

"Do you trust this foreigner?"

The instructor only asked a question back, which blocked all Ma Zhixing's hesitation, "Besides, do you still remember why we got together? We wanted to avoid being robbed, bullied, and beaten. In order to walk more Take the initiative to be bullied, is this what we should do?"

"A road of desperation, with mountains of swords and flames ahead, and cliffs behind, we can't retreat!"

The palm on the shoulder seemed to bring infinite heat and firmness. Ma Zhixing responded without trembling, and hugged the painting in his hand tightly.

Dimon Seymour looked into the sky and let out a long sigh: "It's a pity."

It's a pity that it takes a little more effort.

There was a loud bang suddenly from behind Ma Zhixing.

It seemed that two fast horses bumped against him with their flesh behind him.

It was the coach's hand, which intercepted the fist that Mai Boer hit.

The courtyard was only ten steps square, and Mai Boer only tiptoed from the courtyard gate to Ma Zhixing's back.

Although his punch was intercepted by the coach, the wind of the fist still blew Ma Zhixing's hair.

Most of the existing martial arts schools on the land of China can be traced back to the Song and Ming Dynasties, and a few can be traced back to the late Han Dynasty and the Three Kingdoms, and even the Spring and Autumn and Warring States Periods.

In terms of the variety and historical origin of Chinese martial arts, it is well-deserved to be number one in all countries, but this does not mean that other countries do not have ancient and excellent martial arts.

British boxing was handed down from the Romans. Boxing matches can be loved by the royal family and the homeless. It is vigorous and long-lasting. It can be said that it is a martial art that is approaching its peak.

Mai Boer's boxing technique is derived from the school called "Frozen Rock". He follows an older and harsh training method. He smears olive oil on his body all day long, and cuts only cowhide into thin bandages to protect his finger joints, forearms, and body. Other parts have almost no protection against the spherical rock in various blows.

The coach only saw him kicking his fist at the beginning, and he knew that he was a brave man who had experienced many battles. How dare he let him get close to Ma Zhixing. Stab his throat.

The short stick is a weapon that the coach is used to. It is made of high-quality natural mahogany. This kind of wood has a solid texture and a hard texture. When it falls on a real master, it can strike a unique tenacity.

When swinging a stick with this kind of toughness, the speed of the stick head is so fast that even the shadow is hard to find.

When Mai Boer's face was wiped with a bloodstain, he heard the scream of the stick shadow piercing the air just now in his ears.

A cold light flashed on the head of the stick, and a three-inch sharp blade popped out. In a flash, another scar was added at the position of Mai Boer's collarbone, forcing him to take two steps back.

But once he took these two steps back, the fast punch had room to play again. The left fist was light, the right fist was heavy, and the straight left fist was the fastest.

After boxing began to put forward various norms in the middle of the nineteenth century, it seemed to laymen that there was no difference in the skills of boxers. Everyone just bounced and punched, as if they were all taught by a master.

But in fact, in the eyes of insiders, every successful boxer must have a unique style.

This is especially true for the older boxing styles of Mai Boer's school. The boxing forms such as swing punches, uppercuts, and block punches are all mediocre, but the straight punches are highlighted to the extent that they can be called abnormal.

He weighed more than 220 pounds, more than 200 catties, but every time he punched, his chest was loose and hollow, his waist and hips were tough, and his whole body was soft, as if he was just a tall and thin man less than [-] catties. At that moment, it suddenly tightened.

It was as if the weight was suddenly increased back in that very brief and rapid change.

Because of this way of punching, he is very unaccustomed to using knuckles and other weapons, but in the previous boarding battle, Mai Boer's fist smashed 5 pirates' limbs within [-] minutes. Skulls, guns, blades and gauntlets.

He punches repeatedly, jumping and dodging frequently. In order to pursue the efficiency of counterattack, his body jumps and dodges at a very low level, so that it looks like he is swaying in place, and the frequency of punching with his left hand is slightly higher than that of his right.

The large expanse of air between the two was hit by Mai Boer's fist with a "sizzling" sound.

The coach's short stick was in his hand, so fast that he couldn't even see where the stick was, but the opponent's fist could always jump and flash, avoiding the most dangerous trajectories, and hitting the coach's arm.

They each fired about ten consecutive attacks in one breath, and the collision sound was so dense that it was like a cluster of firecrackers detonating at the same time.

Waiting for a moment when the rhythm on both sides slowed down, you can see a few bleeding wounds on Mai Boer's body, and the arms of the instructor, especially the right hand, are red and swollen. She was trembling uncontrollably.

At this time, Dimon Seymour on the roof jumped down and rushed towards Ma Zhixing.

The teacher's avatar has eyes on the back of his head, and his left hand is turned around to grasp the sparrow's tail. There is a gentle force of squeezing, as if Ma Zhixing was pushed out with his whole body, and landed in the corner of the wall.

(End of this chapter)