History Park: Starting with the Imjin War

"Will you lie down on your own, or wait for us to take you home?"

The man with the eyebrow scar spoke as calmly as if he were asking Mo Qin for a light to light his cigarette.

Lin Jun had retreated to a slightly more secluded spot and was staring ahead.

As for the short sword, it hasn't been revealed yet.

With a slight smile, she spoke first.

"Are they afraid?"

Mochin asked, "What? Are you scared?"

"They hired four people to beat us up, isn't that enough to be scared?"

Mo Qin shook the short stick and nodded.

"That's normal."

"How so?"

"If you're timid, you should find more people to bolster your courage. I remember in Hong Kong movies, gangsters called this kind of behavior 'showing off.'"

Lin Jun raised his chin and called out.

"Hey! Are you here to kill people, or to pose for photos?"

"How about we clear a space for you guys, so you don't die in such a disorganized way later?"

The three people behind remained silent.

Xu Qing stood at the back, half his face hidden in the shadows, his body trembling.

The man with the scar on his eyebrow looked at the two of them, his eyes turning cold.

"You actually have the nerve to use your words."

Mo Qin then replied to him.

"Don't be so serious! We're actually family."

"A family? Why?" The man with the eyebrow scar frowned.

Mochin grinned mischievously. "Because I'm your father!"

Upon hearing this, the brows of the people opposite them all furrowed in unison.

Mochin switched the short stick from his right hand to his left and got into position!

Someone said, "Why waste words with these two? Let's fight!"

The first one to pounce was the tall, thin guy on the left.

He moved with lightning speed, his body circling up the ground, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet.

The steps were neither like those of soldiers nor bandits; they were more like those of someone specially trained to cut flesh off others.

Zhao Tou had taught him about this.

If the other party makes the first move, you should watch the door.

In your haste, you open your own door first.

The tall, thin man circled around to the left, his left hand wielding a short sickle that swept upwards from below, aiming straight for his left rib.

The reverse grip with the right hand, used for horizontal slashing, is not for attacking, but for blocking retreat.

They were locked in a tight battle from both above and below, giving the opponent no easy chance to escape.

Mo Qin lowered the short stick in his left hand and pressed it against the ground.

It's not pressure.

It is entanglement.

The moment the tip of the stick touched the curve of the sickle, he flipped his wrist and pulled it inward along the curve, causing the first sickle to immediately deviate by half an inch.

But this half inch is not enough.

The sickle in his right hand was already slicing horizontally, not targeting his ribs, but rather the soft flesh beneath the old wound on his left shoulder.

Too fast, there's no way to dodge!

Mo Qin didn't retreat; instead, he took a half-step forward with his right foot, pulled back his left arm, and forced his way through the half-inch gap in the doorway.

It wasn't a chest bump.

It's the impact arm line.

The tall, thin man reacted extremely quickly, sinking his wrist and pressing down with the back of his sickle, slicing straight at his elbow joint.

Mochin changed direction halfway through his elbow strike, no longer pushing forward, but instead slamming down hard.

clang!

The elbow struck the sickle handle.

The slender man felt a numbness in his hand, but he used the shock to slide away immediately, taking several steps to pull himself back another two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters).

Mochin did not pursue it.

There is a cut on the outside of my left arm.

Fortunately, it wasn't deep.

But the blood seeped out very quickly.

The tall, thin man stared at the opening, his expression clearly changing.

Clearly, there was something else attached to the knife; it was probably someone who liked to use poison!

But Mo Qin didn't fall down, and his expression didn't even change.

The man with the eyebrow scar stood still, uttering only one word.

"superior."

Only then did the short, stocky man on the right move.

He's very direct.

It's about pressing forward step by step.

His two iron gloves were pressed down in front of him, with blunt nails protruding from his knuckles.

Mochin held the short stick horizontally in front of him.

The opponent had only taken three steps when he suddenly thrust his right fist straight in, aiming for his chest.

Mo Qin turned to the side, flicked the tip of the stick, and brushed it against his wrist.

The method used is entanglement.

Mo Qin's heart sank the moment he touched it.

The iron gauntlet's palm was strangely flat; when the tip of the stick touched it, it was as if it had landed on a polished iron plate, and it couldn't stay there at all.

The "entanglement" technique immediately became ineffective.

The iron fist continued to pound towards his chest.

Unable to change tactics in time, Mo Qin had no choice but to retreat.

He took a half step back with his right foot, and his fist grazed past the cotton armor on his chest, pressing the thick cotton armor inward.

Before he could catch his breath, the fist had already hooked his ribs from below.

He's always been a short-tempered person!

Mochin is not resigning.

He was suddenly thrown forward.

It was exactly the same as when he headbutted Zhao.

The short, stocky man wasn't having any of it. He swung his fists back simultaneously, clamping the man's head between his arms.

Judging by the way they were going to crush a person's skull, they were going to crush it directly.

Before the two iron hands could close, Mochin shrank down.

His knees almost scraped the ground as he slid under the other person's arms.

The posture was awkward.

When it comes to survival, who cares about dignity?

As he slid past, he thrust his short stick backward with his left hand, striking the short, stocky man right in the back of the knee.

There was no protection there.

The short, stocky man groaned, his left leg buckled, and he almost knelt down on one knee.

Mo Qin had already used the momentum to spring up and retreated two zhang away.

My chest feels hot and tight.

The wound on his left arm was torn open even wider, and blood was dripping down between his fingers.

At that moment, a warm sensation began to rise in my left shoulder, and it became increasingly noticeable.

The heat traveled from the old wound all the way to my left arm, then to my bleeding fingers, and even my fingertips started to feel numb.

On the other side, the short, stocky man stood up straight again, clasped his two iron hands together, and prepared to launch another attack.

At that moment, the person throwing the ball at the furthest distance moved.

He took half a step back, leaned back, and held the gun in his right arm, fully extended, displaying his full power!

Lin Jun's expression changed.

Watch out for the ADC!

The sharpened long pole has already slipped from my grasp.

It travels in a straight line.

The long pole tore through the wind and headed straight for Mo Qin's chest.

Too fast.

Mochin didn't have time to move aside and barely managed to hold the short stick horizontally in front of his chest.

click!

The short stick broke in two on the spot.

It wasn't cut off, it was smashed apart.

The javelin itself cracked, but its kinetic energy had already been released.

Mo Qin was knocked back two steps, his chest turned black, and he almost stopped breathing.

My right hand's web between the thumb and index finger was also split.

Blood flowed down the broken stick.

The thrower now had a second one in his hand.

Look at the leather sheath on his back; there are at least three more sticks stuck in it.

Lin Jun then moved, lunging towards the ground, her target the broken javelin.

He bent down, scooped it up, and swung it back at him.

It wasn't the proper way to throw a spear.

Instead, it uses the wrist strength of throwing a throwing knife.

With a flick of his wrist, the broken stick spun and flew back.

The thrower was forced to dodge, and the rhythm of the second javelin was interrupted.

Just one shot was enough.

Despite his bad luck, Mo Qin still held the broken stick, looking at the scarred man with a touch of nonchalance.

The man with the eyebrow scar looked like a wise man, tilting his head and glancing at Xu Qing.

"Didn't you say this big guy was a newcomer?"

Xu Qing's face turned pale instantly.

"I...I really didn't expect this..."

"waste."

Just two words.

Xu Qing swallowed hard, but he didn't dare to utter a word of excuse.

A moment later, the man with the eyebrow scar moved.

He stepped forward with his right foot, then crouched low and lunged towards Lin Jun, moving faster than the previous three.

Only when he was within two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters) did he draw his weapon from behind his waist with his right hand.

It is a katana.

The blade is narrow, the back is thin, and the curvature is not significant.

This knife isn't suitable for chopping people; it's better for cutting along lines, slicing doors, and finding loopholes.

Behind Lin Jun were overturned grain carts.

The thrower is on the side, the double sickles are circling around, and the iron hand is blocking from the front.

"Danger!" The situation was critical, but Mochin had no choice.

He threw the broken stick in his left hand and charged forward, trying to gain space and time.

He didn't rush directly at the man with the scar on his eyebrow, but instead rushed towards the path between him and Lin Jun.

This action exposed his entire chest and rib area.

As a result, the short, stocky man with Iron Hands punched him squarely in the right rib.

boom...

The dull thud sounded like it was hitting a wooden barrel.

Mo Qin felt a sweet taste in his throat and blood gushed from his mouth.

But he didn't spit it out; he just kept it in his mouth.

From the very beginning, Mochin knew he couldn't dodge this attack.

But using that force, Mo Qin twisted his waist and hips, and his right shoulder shoved the scarred man half a step away, first eliminating the danger to Lin Jun.

Lin Jun exclaimed in surprise.

"Are you crazy?!"

Mo Qin's mouth was full of blood, and his voice was muffled.

"No madness, no life."

Lin Jun knew Mo Qin's good intentions, so he rolled to the side to create some distance.

The man with the eyebrow scar continued his attack, slicing his knife across Mo Qin's right shoulder.

The blade first sliced ​​through the cotton armor, then made another cut behind the shoulder.

The tall, thin man with the double sickles lunged forward, intending to deliver a fatal blow.

Mochin is out of weapons.

But we won't lose face!

He reached his right hand onto his slender forearm, and half-raised his left hand, preparing to press down on the sickle handle with his bare hand.

Just then, hurried footsteps came from the stable.