stjorthotic Chapter 144 Someone is going to die
Chapter 144 Someone is going to die
Chapter 145 Someone is going to die
"Ziqi!" Lin Yudie exclaimed, covering her mouth.
When the "Blackwater" mercenaries saw their employer being attacked, they immediately tried to pull the trigger.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
Just then, several gunshots rang out from the tall red brick water tower of the flour mill.
That was a sniper rifle fitted with a silencer.
"ah."
My hand.
The three mercenaries hired by Song Ziqi had a burst of blood on their wrists, and their Thompson submachine guns fell to the ground.
The sharpshooter is taking attendance.
The other side had already occupied the high ground and could see their movements clearly.
The remaining mercenaries were so frightened that they quickly sought cover, no longer daring to fire. They were hired mercenaries, not suicide bombers, and faced with such professional firepower, they instantly became spineless cowards.
"Ha ha ha ha."
Igor laughed wildly, stomping on Song Ziqi's head in the mud puddle and grinding his proud face into the mud.
"Is this your modern military force? Is this your diplomatic approach?"
"A bunch of cowards with fire pokers."
Igor turned his head, his contemptuous gaze sweeping over the angry yet fearful Tianjin people on the periphery, and finally landing on the Qingyun Troupe members on the earthen slope.
He extended his large finger and made a highly insulting downward thumbs-down gesture.
"And you martial arts practitioners too."
"I heard that Lu Cheng is a great hero?"
Igor spat. "So you're just a coward too, hiding under a woman's skirt and too scared to come out?"
"What kind of bullshit is Chinese martial arts? It's not even as good as a dog."
These words, shouted through a loudspeaker, echoed throughout the entire venue.
humiliation.
Endless humiliation weighed heavily on the hearts of every Chinese person, like a boulder.
Finally, someone in the crowd couldn't hold back any longer.
"Bullshit!"
The crowd parted, and several elderly men strode out.
They wore long gowns and cloth shoes, their hair was gray, but they walked with a brisk pace.
These are some veteran boxing masters from Tianjin.
Some practice Xingyi, some practice Tongbei. Although they are not as famous as Liu Wenhua and others, they are all legitimate martial arts masters who have opened schools and taken on students.
"Our Chinese martial arts will not be allowed to be desecrated by you foreign devils."
The leader, an old boxing master surnamed Wang, practiced Chuojiao. He shouted loudly, took off his long robe, and revealed a lean and muscular physique.
"I, Wang Defa, from the Tianjin Chuojiao School, have come today to learn from your foreign skills."
"Good!" The surrounding crowd erupted in cheers.
Igor glanced at the group of old men who came out and curled his lip in disdain.
He stepped back and gave up his seat.
From the group of Japanese ronin behind him, three Japanese men wearing white judo uniforms and black belts emerged.
These three men were short and stocky, with extremely stable lower bodies, and their eyes were so cold that they lacked any human emotion.
A judo master, skilled in ground techniques and joint locks.
"Old man, your opponent is us."
A judo expert spoke in broken Chinese, bowing slightly, but his eyes looked as if he were looking at a dead man.
"Take this!"
Old Master Wang also had a fiery temper. Without saying a word, he took a step forward, his body moving like lightning. His right leg, like a steel whip, whistled through the air as he kicked the Japanese man straight in the ear.
Chuojiao emphasizes powerful and fierce leg techniques, with kicks delivered like arrows.
That kick was incredibly powerful.
however.
The Japanese judo expert neither retreated nor used his arm to block.
He actually ducked down abruptly, like a raccoon rolling along the ground, and instantly slipped into Old Master Wang's defensive circle, right in front of Old Master Wang's leg.
"This is bad." Lu Feng, standing on the earthen slope, realized what was going on and was startled.
Traditional Chinese martial arts mostly emphasize standing combat with wide, sweeping movements.
However, judo focuses on close-quarters grappling and ground fighting, which can be fatal for experienced boxers unfamiliar with this style of combat.
really.
The Japanese expert grabbed the leg that was supporting Old Master Wang's body, and then, using the momentum from Old Master Wang's kick, suddenly fell backward.
"Thump!"
The two fell to the ground at the same time.
But the moment the Japanese expert fell to the ground, his legs wrapped tightly around Old Master Wang's thighs like pythons, while his hands grabbed Old Master Wang's ankles.
Judo ground technique — a modified version of the armbar, including a leg lock!
"ah."
Old Master Wang was shocked and tried to break free, but found that the other party was incredibly strong and used only the skillful force of joint locks. His trekking skills were completely useless on the ground.
"Snap!!!"
A sound of bone cracking echoed clearly throughout the entire venue.
"ah-!!!"
Old Master Wang let out an extremely piercing scream.
His right knee was broken by the Japanese expert using a joint lock technique.
The white bone fragments pierced through the leather pants, and blood gushed out instantly.
"Master Wang."
The other two old boxers, seeing this, were furious and charged forward with a roar.
But the three Japanese experts worked together seamlessly and replicated the same technique.
They don't fight you with fists and feet; they just use close-quarters combat, takedowns, and joint locks.
It only took a minute or two.
These three respected veteran boxers in Tianjin all fell to the ground in the mud.
Some had their arms severed, others had their legs broken, and they rolled on the ground in agony, howling in pain.
"Ha ha ha ha."
The Japanese expert who broke Old Master Wang's leg stood up, dusted himself off, walked up to Old Master Wang, and stomped on his face, pressing his old face firmly into the mud.
"Is this what you call 'national martial arts'?"
The Japanese expert looked around and shouted in an extremely contemptuous and arrogant tone.
"They only know how to stand there and put on a show; once they're on the ground, they become lambs to the slaughter."
"Sick Man of East Asia! Your martial arts are worse than a dog's!"
He spat fiercely at Old Master Wang.
despair.
A deep sense of despair.
The Tianjin locals, watching their usually revered martial arts master being humiliated like a dog trampled in the mud, had tears welling up in their eyes, but dared not speak out because of the dark muzzle of a gun.
This is the tragedy of traditional Chinese martial arts.
In this era of rampant firearms and the emergence of various modern fighting techniques, the dignity of traditional martial arts seems to have been torn to shreds.
"Damn it, I'll fight you to the death!"
On the earthen slope, Lu Feng could no longer hold back.
His eyes had turned completely blood red, and his wolfish nature had fully erupted.
He drew his single-edged sword from his waist and, like a raging tiger, charged down the slope to fight to the death.
Shunzi's eyes also reddened, but she still maintained a sliver of rationality, clinging tightly to Lu Feng's waist.
"Fengzi, are you crazy? Master said you're not allowed to move!"
Just then.
In the mud pit, Song Ziqi, whose face was covered in blood from being beaten, had just caught his breath.
He struggled to his feet and saw Lu Feng and Shunzi on the earthen slope, as if he had found an outlet to vent his humiliation.
He pointed in the direction of Qingyun Class and began to hysterically curse.
"You bunch of useless trash."
"Where is your master? Where is Lu Cheng, whom you all praise to the skies?"
"Isn't he supposed to be able to dodge bullets? Isn't he a martial arts master? At the crucial moment, did he hide in a woman's arms and wet his pants in fear?!"
"He's just a charlatan, a fraudster. Is he even a man?!"
Song Ziqi's curses sounded particularly harsh.
All eyes instantly shifted from the fallen boxers to the disciples of the Qingyun Class.
A hint of undisguised disappointment began to show in the eyes of the people.
Yes.
When the nation is in peril, our compatriots suffer humiliation.
Where is Master Lu, whom they regard as their spiritual pillar?
Lin Yudie sat in the car, looking at the isolated and helpless Qingyun Class disciples on the earthen slope, closed her eyes, and two lines of clear tears slid down her cheeks.
Although she disliked Song Ziqi's vulgarity, at this moment, a deep sense of disappointment welled up in her heart.
"Mr. Lu—so, you're just an ordinary person after all?"
Faced with Song Ziqi's curses and the stares of the crowd, Lu Feng completely lost his mind.
He shoved Shunzi away.
"Let me go! I'm going to kill this traitor who spews filth today!"
He raised his knife, ready to charge at Song Ziqi.
however.
The moment Lu Feng took his first step.
"Crunch—crunch—"
The sound of wooden wheels rolling over gravel road suddenly came slowly from behind the earthen slope.
Lu Feng's steps froze in mid-air.
Shunzi, Xiaodouzi, and all the disciples of the Qingyun Class turned around abruptly as if they had been electrocuted.
The crowd slowly parted to make way for the source of the sound.
All I could see was the hazy, gray light of the sky.
Old Zhang, the gatekeeper, was pushing an old-fashioned wooden wheelchair, struggling up the gentle slope.
In a wheelchair.
There was a person sitting there.
He was wrapped in a gray wool blanket, which covered him completely from the neck down.
His face was paler than the dark clouds in the sky, his eyes were slightly closed, and his lips were bloodless.
His whole being exuded an air of decay and weakness, as if he might breathe his last at any moment.
It was none other than Lu Cheng, who was rumored to be "terminally ill"!
"Master, Master—"
The single-edged sword in Lu Feng's hand clattered to the ground, and tears instantly welled up in his eyes.
Shunzi knelt down with a thud, sobbing uncontrollably.
The crowd watched as this once spirited master, dressed in snow-white robes, now appeared, barely clinging to life in a wheelchair.
My heart is completely broken.
"Master Lu————"
"What a tragedy!"
Some people couldn't help but cover their faces and weep.
It turns out he wasn't running away. He was just really dying.
Lin Yudie suddenly opened her eyes and looked at the weak figure in the wheelchair. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed by a large hand, and an indescribable bitterness and guilt welled up in her heart.
Despite his dying body, he still came.
But what's the point of coming? What can change besides adding to the shame?
When Song Ziqi, who was in the mud pit, saw Lu Cheng's appearance, he was stunned for a moment, and then burst into even more unrestrained laughter.
"Ha ha ha ha!!!"
Song Ziqi pointed at Lu Cheng in the wheelchair, laughing until tears streamed down his face, as if he wanted to vent all the humiliation he had just suffered on this useless person.
"Look, everyone!"
"This is what you call the 'shining light of Chinese martial arts'?"
"This is the savior you've been waiting for!"
He stumbled forward, pointed at Lu Cheng's nose, and cursed, "You piece of trash!"
"You usually put on airs on stage, making a huge fuss, but now that it's time to get serious, you're here in a beat-up wheelchair to watch the show?"
"What can you do, you half-dead, pathetic creature? You can't even stand up!"
"Are you even a man?!"
Song Ziqi's curses were vicious and harsh.
The disciples of Qingyun Troupe gritted their teeth, wishing they could tear him to pieces.
But Lu Cheng, in his wheelchair, seemed not to hear Song Ziqi's shouts.
He didn't even lift his eyelids.
He slowly, very slowly, stretched out his hands, which had been hidden under the wool blanket.
Those hands were fair, slender, and without a trace of calluses.
Looking at them, they really did resemble the hands of a patient who was completely powerless.
He picked up a thermos made of purple clay that was on the armrest of his wheelchair, opened the lid, and gently blew on the steam escaping from inside.
Amidst the overwhelming insults and ridicule.
Surrounded by hundreds of guns and knives.
He took a leisurely sip of water.
"Gulp."
Lu Cheng slowly raised his head.
Those eyes, which had been half-closed, finally opened completely at this moment.
There was no dazzling gold, no murderous aura.
"Lu Feng".
"Here!" Lu Feng wiped away his tears and answered loudly.
"Pick up your knife."
Lu Cheng looked at Song Ziqi, who was still barking wildly in the mud pit, then at Igor, the arrogant Russian strongman in the distance, and the Japanese judo masters who were stepping on the old boxer's face.
His hand holding the purple clay cup tightened slightly.
The power of a sick tiger reached its peak in that instant.
"I already said that."
"You can look, but you can't touch."
Lu Cheng placed the sand cup back on the armrest, his lips, still slightly damp, parted slightly.
"Unless, of course, it's going to die."
He swept his gaze across the old boxer lying in a pool of blood, his arms and legs broken.
"Now----"
"Youwu is going to die."
The moment those words were uttered.
"Snap—!!!"
Without warning, the solid wood wheelchair beneath Lu Cheng shattered into pieces, turning into a pile of wood chips.
The thick wool blanket was torn into countless tattered strips by an extremely terrifying invisible shockwave.
"boom!!!"
A visible white stream of air, like a volcanic eruption, burst forth from that originally weak and exhausted body, shooting straight into the sky!
Lu Cheng.
Stood up.
A sudden gust of wind arose on the earthen slope.
The torn wool blanket transformed into countless gray, fluffy particles that danced wildly in mid-air, blotting out the sun.
Lu Cheng simply stood up.
There was no exaggerated roar, and no frightening starting stance.
He was still wearing that white undershirt, which looked loose and baggy because he had been faking illness.
But the moment he straightened up, his loose clothes suddenly swelled up as if they had been inflated, making a "rustling" sound as if the fabric was tearing.
"Buzz—!"
An indescribable, terrifying pressure, centered on Lu Cheng, swept wildly towards all directions like a tangible tsunami.
-
After Na Ren mastered the [Toad Fishing Strength] and completed the marrow cleansing technique, the century-old hidden strength that had been suppressed for three whole days erupted in a powerful burst under the extreme rebound of the [Sick Tiger's Might].
"Thump."
Shunzi and Lu Feng, who were closest to the swearing, felt as if their mouths had been hit hard by a hammer. Their breath caught in their throats, their knees buckled, and they were about to kneel down on one knee uncontrollably.
Even its own black crow couldn't withstand this unreasonable aura, let alone the black crows outside.
Below the earthen slope.
Song Ziqi, who was hysterically pointing at Lu Cheng's nose and cursing, suddenly had his voice cut off as if by a pair of rusty scissors.
His flushed face instantly lost all color, turning deathly pale.
He stared wide-eyed in terror, his eyeballs almost bulging out of their sockets, intently fixed on the white-clad figure on the earthen slope that looked like a demon descending to earth.
"You, you didn't—"
Song Ziqi's teeth began to chatter uncontrollably, making a "clucking" sound as they clashed together.
His legs went limp, and with a thud, he fell back into the stinking mud pit. A warm, foul-smelling liquid flowed down his suit trouser leg, mixing with the muddy water.
He was pissed on by Erpi.
That's really ridiculous.
Under that terrifying atmosphere of facing death head-on, all the so-called arrogance of studying abroad and the so-called modern civilization were shattered into dust.