Huayu: Don't force me to be a master

The next day, the weather was unbelievably good.

Just after the morning bell of Dafosi Temple rang, the sun jumped out from the eastern hilltop, its golden light shining on the temple's yellow glazed tiles, so bright that it was hard to open one's eyes.

Under the old locust tree in front of the mountain gate, breakfast stalls have been set up. Fried dough sticks sizzle in the pan, and steam rises from the soy milk, carrying the aroma of incense far and wide.

The arena is still the same arena.

But the atmosphere today is different from yesterday.

Before seven o'clock, the audience was already surrounded by people.

Besides the tourists who came to watch the excitement yesterday, there were quite a few unfamiliar faces – some were wearing practice clothes, some were carrying cameras, and a few were dressed in suits and ties, clearly there to poach talent.

"Have you heard? That young man took down more than a dozen people by himself yesterday!"

"Of course, I was there. They were incredibly fierce, taking down their opponents one punch at a time, like it was nothing."

"The TV stations are all here today. Look over there, it's Hangzhou TV."

There was a buzz of discussion in the crowd, and the flashes of cameras were going off everywhere.

Zhang Jizhong stood by the ring, grinning as if he'd struck gold. Several investors in suits stood nearby, craning their necks to look backstage.

"Director Zhang, is that guy still playing today?"

"Hit them? Why don't you hit them?"

Zhang Jizhong had a cigarette in his mouth.

"They said they'd keep fighting until no one dared to challenge them anymore."

"If we could sign this contract, action movies would take off!"

Zhang Jizhong exhaled a puff of smoke but did not reply.

He thought to himself, "You want to sign them? They might not even be interested in you."

Rest area.

There were only two people inside the house; everyone else had gone out to see what was going on.

Qian Lang leaned back in his chair, holding a cup of tea in his hand, sipping it intermittently.

Chen Hao, however, looked at him with a somewhat complicated expression.

Jiang Xin is a big mouth; everyone knew early this morning that the two had officially broken up.

"You two really broke up?"

Chen Hao asked quietly.

"Yes! For your sake, I have to break up with her."

Qian Lang spoke with a serious expression.

"Get lost, people say she dumped you."

"Sigh, there's nothing I can do. When we were sleeping in the middle of the night, she called your name in her sleep."

"Ah~~ You guys are asleep?"

Chen Hao said, his eyes wide.

this,,,,

Qian Lang felt like the two of them weren't on the same wavelength.

"I can't be bothered with you, I'm going on stage."

"Hmph, I don't even want to talk to you. You slept with someone else and then broke up with them. You're a scoundrel."

Qian Lang was stunned.

He remembered the 200 yuan.

What kind of hooligan is he? He was just a prostitute.

"You don't know anything!"

Qian Lang cursed and walked outside.

Chen Hao grabbed his sleeve.

"Explain yourself clearly, how come I don't understand? You slept with someone and didn't take responsibility, that's..."

She didn't finish her sentence.

Because the rogue really acted like a rogue.

Qian Lang turned around, pinched her chin with one hand, and looked into her eyes with his deep eyes.

"What...what are you going to do?"

Chen Hao said, sounding a little flustered.

She had always had a slight crush on Qian Lang, but since he used to be Jiang Xin's boyfriend, she never had any romantic feelings for him.

If this had happened before, she would have definitely pushed Qian Lang's hand away.

Today, however, I feel a bit lost.

At this moment, Qian Lang slowly moved his face closer to Chen Hao's face.

this,,,

Chen Hao's heart was beating faster and faster.

She wanted to push Qian Lang away, but she felt as if she had no strength left in her body.

Just as she was about to close her eyes.

Qian Lang spoke up.

"That's real thuggery!"

-----------------

On the stage.

Qian Lang stopped, sunlight falling on him. He was still dressed in that black outfit, and his face was still expressionless.

However, it still looks quite majestic under the sunlight.

The audience below the stage were making a fuss, and some were even chanting Qian Lang's name.

Chen Hao glared hatefully at the man on the stage.

"Son of a bitch!"

She cursed inwardly.

She had just... never expected it to end like that.

If Qian Lang hadn't run away so fast, she would have definitely made him pay.

"Sister Jiang Xin, why did you two break up?"

Beside them, Liu Yifei asked Jiang Xin a gossipy question.

"Sissi!"

Liu Xiaoli quickly stopped her.

Jiang Xin smiled at Liu Yifei but didn't say anything.

She was still savoring the moment... no, she was now 100% certain that Qian Lang was very experienced... bastard... her legs were still weak.

Liu Tao frowned. Jiang Xin didn't get back until 3 a.m. last night. Did breaking up really take until the middle of the night? She suddenly felt a little uncomfortable.

Just then!

"Money Wave! Money Wave! Money Wave!"

Liu Tao rolled his eyes at the group of cheerleaders in miniskirts not far away.

Qian Lang, however, watched with great interest.

Old Zhang really knows how to have fun.

Only one day had passed when he found some extras and even put together a cheerleading squad.

Of course, important business also needs to be done, and the sooner it's finished, the sooner we can call it a day.

Qian Lang clasped his hands in a fist salute to some of the contestants below the stage and said this.

"I am a novice learner, lacking knowledge of Bajiquan and Qianlang; please enlighten me!"

Another round of cheers erupted from the audience.

They shouted it out, but no one actually came up.

One minute.

Two minutes.

three minutes.

The people in the audience looked at each other, but no one moved.

Everyone saw what happened to those dozen or so people yesterday.

Going up there now would be asking for a beating, wouldn't it?

Some people started a disturbance.

"Go on up! What are you afraid of!"

The person being instigated waved his hands repeatedly.

"I can't do it, I can't do it. I'm just here to watch the fun."

Qian Lang stood on the stage, not in a hurry.

He stood there, his gaze sweeping across the crowd before finally settling in one direction.

There were several people standing there, wearing white martial arts uniforms and black belts around their waists.

The one leading the group was none other than Chen Guodong, the karate athlete he had kicked down yesterday.

Chen Guodong's expression wasn't very good at the moment.

He was kicked down by Qian Lang. He didn't want to come today, but his companions persuaded him to come anyway.

Qian Lang looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Master Chen, are you coming again today?"

Chen Guodong blushed and remained silent.

Suddenly, a hand reached out from behind and pressed down on his shoulder.

"let me."

His voice was deep and had a heavy accent.

The crowd automatically parted to make way.

A man walked out.

He was around thirty-five years old, not very tall, just over 1.7 meters, but as strong as an ox.

His face was full of fleshy muscles, and his eyes were very small. When he squinted, his eyeballs were almost invisible, leaving only two slits. The light shining through the slits was chilling.

He was wearing a white karate uniform with a black belt around his waist. The gold embroidery on the belt shimmered in the sunlight—Goju-ryu, third dan black belt.

When he reached the edge of the ring, he didn't jump on like the others.

Instead, they steadily, step by step, climbed the stairs.

Every step was heavy.

The wooden planks creaked.

The audience suddenly fell silent.

This person exudes an indescribable sense of oppression, like a wild boar in the mountains—silent and unassuming, yet you know it might charge at any moment.

Qian Lang looked at him, but his expression changed.

because!

Chen Guodong shouted something from behind; it was in Japanese.

The man turned around and replied in Japanese.

Then he turned to Qian Lang, put his hands together, and bowed slightly.

"I am Watanabe Ichiro, a third-degree black belt in Goju-ryu karate."

His Chinese was very broken, and he spoke each word haltingly.

Please advise.

Qian Lang didn't move.

He stared at the other person's face and remained silent for two seconds.

"Japanese?"

"Yes."

Qian Lang nodded.

Then he suddenly laughed.

The smile was faint, but Zhang Jizhong, standing by the stage, saw it and his heart skipped a beat.

This smile seems different from yesterday's.

"please."

Qian Lang clasped his hands in a fist salute and said.

Watanabe Ichiro immediately got into a fighting stance.

His posture was different from Chen Guodong's; he was more stable on his feet, had a lower center of gravity, and his hands were not loosely clenched but firmly in fists.

Qian Lang, however, was still smiling.

That's interesting!

He could tell that Chen Guodong was at most only skilled in martial arts, but this Ichiro seemed to have experienced actual combat.

The people in the audience were still discussing it.

"A Japanese person? Here to cause trouble?"

"Didn't that guy lose yesterday? Why is another Japanese player showing up?"

"This looks better than that one!"

Watanabe Ichiro turned a deaf ear.

He stared at Qian Lang, then began to move his feet, taking small steps, but each step was firm and solid.

After circling halfway, he suddenly moved.

It's not "chong" (沖), it's "hua" (滑).

As if he had wheels on his feet, he was in front of Qian Lang in an instant, throwing a straight punch straight at his face.

The wind howled from the punch.

Qian Lang stepped aside to let him pass.

Watanabe Ichiro didn't retract his fist, but instead switched to an elbow strike, bringing it down horizontally.

Qian Lang took another half step back.

Her elbow grazed his chest, causing his clothes to flutter.

Watanabe Ichiro paused, then suddenly spun around, unleashing a spinning back kick that lashed out like a whip at Qian Lang's head.

Someone in the audience gasped in surprise.

If that kick landed properly, it could break a neck.

Qian Lang still took a half step back.

Just half a step.

Watanabe's foot grazed his nose and missed.

Three tricks.

All efforts were in vain.

Watanabe Ichiro landed, his expression changing.

He looked at Qian Lang, the disdain in his eyes gone, replaced by wariness.

Something's off about this person.

Those three moves were his signature combo. Most opponents would be lucky to dodge even one, but this guy dodged all three with ease, without even breaking a sweat.

"this one?"

Qian Lang spoke up.

His tone was indifferent, but everyone could understand the meaning behind his words.

Watanabe Ichiro's face darkened, and without saying a word, he lunged forward again.

This time it's even faster.

Punches, elbows, knees, and legs rained down like a storm.

The audience was so dazzled that they forgot to shout.

But what about Qian Lang?

He just stood there.

They didn't fight back, they just dodged.

He dodged to the left, sidestepped to the right, took a step back, and turned half a step to the side. Each time he dodged perfectly, each time allowing Watanabe's attacks to graze his body without harming him in the slightest.

Watanabe fought more and more frantically, and his breathing became heavier.

He had already exchanged more than thirty blows, each one with all his might, but he hadn't even managed to touch the hem of Qian Lang's clothes.

What kind of monster is this person?

"Are you tired?"

Qian Lang suddenly asked.

Watanabe didn't say a word, and then swept over with another high roundhouse kick.

Qian Lang didn't dodge this time.

He reached out and gently flicked it.

That was the only group.

Watanabe's leg felt like it had been hit by something, causing him to lose his balance and stumble to the side, almost falling over.

The audience burst into laughter.

"These Japanese guys are no good!"

"What karate? You can't even touch someone's clothes!"

"Go down!"

Watanabe Ichiro steadied himself, but his face was flushed red.

No match for them!

He now knew that he was no match for this young man.

only,,,,,

Watanabe Ichiro recalled the Bushido spirit that had captivated him.

Knowing he was outmatched... he still...

At this moment, Qian Lang spoke up.

"Mr. Watanabe, how many years have you studied karate?"

Watanabe didn't say anything.

Qian Lang continued speaking.

"It's been at least ten years, so do you know why you can't beat them?"

"Hey, it's not your fault. Karate originated from Tang Shou in our country. You guys never learned it completely to begin with, and now some parts have been lost. Do you know how long I studied Bajiquan?"

As Qian Lang spoke, he held up one finger to Watanabe.

"One year!"

"Mr. Watanabe, so it's not that you're not good enough, it's that your karate is not good enough."

"Baka!"

Watanabe finally couldn't hold back anymore.

Insulting him is acceptable, but insulting karate is not.

"Come on, let's continue."

Qian Langchong beckoned to him with his finger.

"Let me see just how much you Japanese have stolen from us."

Watanabe Ichiro was completely enraged.

He roared and pounced on the person in front of him like a madman, unleashing a barrage of punches and kicks, completely disregarding defense, wanting only to kill the person in front of him.

The audience was terrified.

This is no longer a martial arts competition.

This is risking everything.

But what about Qian Lang?

He's still the same.

They didn't fight back, they just dodged.

He dodged to the left, stepped back, and turned half a step to the side.

Watanabe's every move missed, as if he were hitting cotton.

"Too slow."

"It's off-center."

"Didn't you eat?"

"Is this all the Japanese are capable of?"

Qian Lang's words came one after another, each one piercing Watanabe's heart.

Watanabe's eyes reddened.

He didn't care about anything else; all he knew was to charge forward and fight.

But the more anxious he became, the less likely he was to hit the target.

The more they couldn't hit it, the more anxious they became.

Vicious circle.

The audience was thoroughly enjoying the show, and some started to make a fuss.

"Hit him! Fight back!"

"Qian Lang, stop dodging! Knock him down with one punch!"

Qian Lang heard this, but he wasn't in a hurry.

He's still waiting.

Waiting for the right opportunity.

Finally, Watanabe Ichiro's breathing became completely disordered.

He stood on the stage, panting heavily, sweat streaming down his face, the hatred in his eyes turning into madness.

Qian Lang looked at him and suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"Mr. Watanabe, look—"

He turned around, with his back to Watanabe, and pointed to the people below the stage.

"With so many people watching, don't you want to say anything?"

Watanabe Ichiro's eyes widened suddenly.

She had her back to him.

opportunity!

In an instant, all reason in his mind snapped.

He rushed forward and delivered a powerful punch to the back of Qian Lang's head.

Everyone in the audience saw it.

Someone screamed.

Someone shouted insults.

"mean!"

"Sneak attack!"

"Be careful!"

It's too late.

Watanabe's fist was already at the back of Qian Lang's head.

Just then, Qian Lang moved.

He didn't turn around.

His body instinctively swerved to the side, dodging the punch, and then—

He kicked it backward.

It was a very simple kick.

Right step.

He kicked Watanabe Ichiro in the shin.

Click.

The sound of bones breaking was exceptionally clear in the quiet arena.

Watanabe Ichiro screamed and fell forward, sprawling on the ground, clutching his calves and rolling around.

His lower leg bent at an odd angle, with white bone fragments sticking out of the flesh, and blood quickly stained the ring red.

The entire room fell silent for a full three seconds.

Then it exploded.

"Well played!"

"Serves you right!"

"The Japanese are despicable!"

"Kill him!"

The crowd surged forward like a tide, some clenching their fists as if trying to rush onto the stage, others picking up stones from the ground and throwing them onto the stage.

Qian Lang, who was on stage, was also very anxious at this moment.

"Doctor! Doctor, come quick! Mr. Watanabe, are you alright?! Doctor, come quick!"

Zhang Jizhong looked at the stage, his eyes growing brighter and brighter!