activa-t Chapter 57 Human Arena
Chapter 57 Human Arena
Zhou Xing's shout of "Let's go!" landed on the ground, and the theater was silent for a moment before erupting into chaos.
The expressions on the faces of the ten people who were called upon immediately became quite interesting.
Zhao Debiao stiffened his neck and was about to glare at her, but Chen Heming stopped him with a look.
Chen Heming's expression shifted between light and shadow. He glanced around, his eye twitched, and then he suddenly laughed.
"Master Zhou, what are you doing... using us brothers as stepping stones to make your name? If you win, you'll be famous throughout Tianjin; if you lose, you'll still be a 'hero'."
"No matter how you look at it, you're the one who benefits. For us brothers, winning wouldn't be honorable, and losing would be even more shameful. Who would do a losing proposition like this?"
These words struck a chord with the others. Some frowned and remained silent, some twirled their fingers, some blew their beards and glared, most showing expressions of defiance.
A buzz of discussion swept over from below the stage.
"One against ten? That's incredibly arrogant!"
"...Have you lost your mind?"
"What's this young man up to?"
"Young friend Zhou!"
Some people, like Cheng Yi'an, who had personally witnessed Zhou Xing's "Seven-Day Vivid Strength," couldn't help but advise, "A boxer fears youth and strength, but also the power of numbers! Don't act rashly!"
Gong Er watched quietly, her gaze fixed on Zhou Xing's straight back.
Amidst the noise, Ip Man stood up.
He wore a clean and neat blue cloth gown.
He first looked at Gong Baotian, who was in the main seat, and nodded slightly. Then he walked to the railing, not looking at the ten people, but only at Zhou Xing's back.
"Zhou Xing is my disciple by name."
Ip Man spoke, his voice still steady, "The words he speaks here today represent me, Ip Man, and the Wing Chun lineage."
His gaze shifted to the ten people:
"If he loses this fight, I, Ip Man, will leave immediately, board the train tonight and return to the South, never to set foot in Tianjin again. The phrase 'Southern Kung Fu Spreads to the North' will never be mentioned again."
As soon as he finished speaking, the entire room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
The stakes were too high. With these words, Ip Man was betting his entire life's reputation and his grand ambition to go south on Zhou Xing's fists.
Ip Man didn't say "What if I win?" anymore. No need to say. If you lose, get out; if you win, everything will naturally follow.
The fake smile on Chen Heming's face vanished completely. He stared at Ip Man, then at Zhou Xing, his brows furrowed.
To accept the challenge is a bad thing; to win would be dishonorable, and to lose would be even more embarrassing.
But since Ip Man had put it this way, the fact that they wouldn't fight meant that the ten of them were afraid, which would implicate the Northern boxers and make them appear as bullies who were afraid to fight.
With the Gong family, the Zhang family, and so many eyes watching, how will they ever be able to get along in the future?
Chen Heming's jaw tightened, and he looked up at the person in the main seat.
On the second floor, at the head table, Gong Baotian didn't even lift his eyelids, slowly turning the walnuts in his hand without saying a word. Zhang Zhankui picked up the now-cold teacup, took a sip, and his Adam's apple bobbed.
This is tacit approval.
"Go ahead and fight! Does Zhou Xing really have three heads and six arms?"
Chen Heming steeled his resolve, gritted his teeth, and clasped his hands in a fist salute:
"Since Master Ye has put it this way... we juniors have no choice but to oblige."
Seeing this, the others had no choice but to bite the bullet and step forward.
Gong Baotian then raised his eyes and scanned the audience:
"In that case, let's draw a line. The center of the arena will be the boundary; going out of bounds or falling to the ground and not getting up for ten breaths results in a loss. This is a friendly sparring match, and we'll stop when we've reached our target."
The old man paused for a moment, his voice deepening slightly:
"Fists and kicks have no eyes, so be careful."
The rules have been set.
The tables and chairs downstairs were quickly cleared, creating a larger area of blue brick floor. The crowd pushed back, forming a circle, with countless eyes fixed intently on the center.
Zhou Xing stood alone in the center of the circle, dressed in black, short clothes that outlined the smooth lines of his shoulders and arms, his waist cinched tight, like a sword sheathed.
The ten people opposite spread out, forming an irregular semi-circle, vaguely forming an encirclement.
On the left is Zhao Debiao, using the short-range stance of Yanqingquan, his toes touching the ground, his body slightly leaning forward, his eyes fierce yet treacherous.
Next to him was Chen Heming, in the starting stance of the White Ape Tongbei, with his arms hanging loosely and his fingertips curled inward.
Further to the right was a Bajiquan master, as black as a tower, whose stance was so firm it seemed rooted to the ground, and whose fists were as big as large bowls.
Next to him squatted a short, stocky man, his hands braced against the bricks, like a winter melon gathering its strength; he was a practitioner of ground boxing.
Beside him was a burly Hung Kuen man, whose arms were thicker than an average person's thighs.
There was also a light-footed Yan Qing boxer, whose face was pale.
A boxer who used the Pi Gua Palm technique had a forced smile on his face, a smile that looked more like a grimace.
A burly man with wide, angry eyes, panting heavily.
There are also two masters of internal strength.
One was a Tai Chi master in a gray cloth jacket, starting his cloud hands pose, with the most serene gaze.
The other one was Wu Liuzhi, who had previously called out "Master Ye, come down here." At this moment, he was expressionless, only repeatedly moving his wrists.
Ten boxers, ten different stances, ten pairs of eyes, fixed on Zhou Xing like nails.
Two hidden strengths. Eight manifest strengths, with varying levels of skill.
The Human Puppet Appearance and the River Demon Appearance are Zhou Xing's trump cards, which he will not use in front of everyone.
Judging solely from the perspective of boxing techniques, this will be a tough battle. If one is hit by a hidden force or several obvious force strikes in succession, the outcome will be unpredictable.
"please."
Zhou Xing clasped his hands in a fist salute.
"please!"
Before the ten people could finish their chaotic responses, Zhao Debiao was the first to lose his temper!
With a stomp of his foot, he pounced like a slender hawk, hurtling straight to Zhou Xing's left side.
Yanqingquan emphasizes "lightness, agility, and speed." His pounce was indeed as swift as a swallow skimming the water, his right hand pointing straight at Zhou Xing's left eye!
Almost simultaneously, a dark shadow swept across the lower right, and the ground-lying boxer rolled along the ground, his arms like iron hoops, grabbing Zhou Xing's legs!
This is the "Dragon's Twisting Pillar" from the ground-lying style; once you get entangled in it, you immediately lose your lower body.
They attacked from both top and bottom, ruthless and tacitly coordinated.
Zhou Xing didn't move.
The fingertips were no more than three inches from his eyelashes, and the hand on the ground was about to touch his ankle...
He suddenly took a half step back with his left foot.
His body then turned slightly.
Zhao Debiao's determined finger strike grazed his ear and missed. The boxer's outstretched arms only caught a fleeting afterimage.
The two men were getting used to their moves, and their movements became slightly sluggish.
In an instant, Zhou made his move.
He suddenly stepped forward with his left foot, which had been withdrawn, making a tiny arc, and moved to the outside of Zhao Debiao.
With his right hand, his five fingers slightly curled up like a bird's beak, he gently pecked at the crook of Zhao Debiao's right elbow.
Wing Chun - Crane Beak Hand.
"despair."
A soft sound, like bamboo chopsticks tapping on an empty bowl.
Zhao Debiao's entire arm suddenly went numb, as if a tendon had been pulled out, and it hung limply at his sides. The fierce look on his face instantly turned to horror, and he opened his mouth to scream…
Zhou Xing's outstretched hand slid down smoothly, his wrist flipped, and his palm pressed against Zhou Xing's chest, giving him a gentle push.
He subtly released his inner strength.
"Bang!"
Zhao Debiao felt as if he had been struck in the chest with a heavy hammer. His whole body trembled, his eyes almost popped out, he spat out a mouthful of blood, and flew backward, crashing into a table and shattering cups and plates all over the floor.
He curled up on the ground, coughing up blood, trying to get up, but he couldn't. His sternum was fractured, and his heart and lung meridians were injured by hidden force; in the future, he would cough up blood and be weak when he fought.
obsolete.
"He's really brainless."
Zhou Xing chuckled inwardly.
one move.
One is useless.
Before the gasps from the crowd could even erupt, the boxer on the ground, sensing the danger, kicked his legs frantically, trying to roll backward.
Without even looking, Zhou Xing stepped down with his left toe, landing precisely on the side of Zhou Xing's left knee.
"Click."
A teeth-grinding, crisp sound.
The ground-lying boxer let out a miserable howl, clutching his twisted left leg and rolling on the ground.
the second.
From the moment he fell to the ground, it was only three breaths.
The remaining eight people's pupils suddenly contracted.
"Surround him!"
Chen Heming shouted sharply, but took half a step back.
The group immediately dispersed, forming an encirclement.
The towering Bajiquan master and the burly Hung Kuen man simultaneously roared and stepped forward, one to the left and one to the right. The Bajiquan top elbow strike and the Hung Kuen strike slammed together like two iron doors crashing shut, blocking the middle.
With his feet treading on the wind, Yan Qing, the boxer, moved like a ghost to Zhou Xing's side and back, his palm shadow covering Zhou Xing's back.
The masters of Pi Gua Quan and Cha Quan flanked from both sides, poised to strike.
The true encirclement has now been completed.
Zhou Xing took a deep breath, and his Fishing Toad Technique silently and rapidly spun around.
Based on their listening skills, it became clear that the eight-person attack was not a monolithic force.
The elbows of Bajiquan masters are heavier and faster; the fists of Hung Kuen practitioners are slightly looser and slower; the palms of Yanqing boxers are the most elusive, intended to disrupt.
The two men on the flanks were unsteady on their feet, their hearts filled with trepidation...
The two masters of internal strength did not close their fists, seemingly waiting for an opportunity.