Chapter 14 — Hiding for Five Years, One Night Becomes Legend

The moment his power entered, I felt — There was indeed internal power. Not brute force. It is the penetrating power that has been trained and concentrated at one point. If you get hit, your bones will shatter. But his force is too "sharp". Like a needle. What happens when a needle pokes a bunch of cotton? Will be devoured. My entire arm turned into a “fluff” — the “Looseness” (Tung) of Tai Chi. Liquid does not mean soft. It's loose but not lazy, deep but not hard. His hook hit and was pulled away by my Bang force - the power was deflected.

“What?!” His face changed. The punch clearly hit the target, but the feeling of hitting it was like punching into a mud puddle - having power but not being able to use it.

I didn't give him time to think. After neutralizing his strength, use "Comb" to pull his whole body towards his waist. He staggered a step. Center of gravity loses balance. The base of my right wrist was pressed against his side —

“Judgment.”

The force penetrated through the body.

“Puff —” Snake's head spat out a mouthful of blood, his whole body collided hard with the ironwood table behind him, the table broke in half with a "Crack".

He fell into a pile of scrap wood, clutching his side, his face pale. But not completely collapsed. He put his hands on the ground and slowly stood up.

"Tai Chi is very good..." He spit out the blood in his mouth, "Hua Quoc An taught a good disciple."

“He is my grandfather.”

“I know.”

He smiled. In the smile there is also hatred.

"Forty years ago, your grandfather barged into my master's martial arts studio alone, and in just three moves, he removed both of his arms. For the rest of his life, my master would never be able to hold chopsticks again."

“It's because your master is a drug dealer.” I glared at him, "My grandfather was entrusted by the army to come and destroy the martial arts club that year."

Snake Head's eyes flashed.

“So I do this job, half of it for revenge.”

He made another move — This time it's different. His fighting style changed. It is no longer the genuine Duong Lang Quyen. The attacks were wilder, dirtier — eye pokes, knees to the groin, elbows to the back of the neck, a mixture of all the vilest street fighting techniques. This is the fighting style of someone who once took a life. No need for rules. But — I'm also not the same person I was 5 years ago. Over the past five years, even though I didn't actually do anything, I practiced every night. Stand up, do kata, explain - I have simulated real combat countless times in my head. I have absorbed everything from the book of rights my grandfather left behind. Including the last floor. He said that it is not until the age of 28 that his character matures. But you are wrong. It's not the age that comes when the mind comes. It's that when you have gone through enough patience, enough suppression - then your natural disposition will be achieved. Five years of pretending to be trash. Five years of patience. Five years of cumulative contemplation. Enough. Snake Head's fists and kicks hit me — each blow was neutralized. Like a thunderstorm hitting the surface of a lake. The water surface ripples, but the lake water itself is calm. He started breathing heavily. Physical strength is seriously reduced. As for my breathing, it's still as calm as before. The core of Tai Chi has never been about strength. It's performance. Use the smallest amount of force to neutralize the largest attack. Borrowing the opponent's strength to attack himself. He's tired. I'm not tired yet. Finally — he tossed A wide-angle looping hook, due to exhaustion, revealed a big opening. What I've been waiting for is this moment. Right foot steps up. The left hand supports his forearm. Right hand pressed against his chest. This time there's nothing to hold back. All internal force - Unleashed in this one strike.

“BAM!”

Snake Head's body felt like it was hit by a sledgehammer, it flew backwards, smashed the glass window behind it, and the whole person fell straight out of the third floor -

“Sledgehammer! Catch it!” I screamed.

The sound of the Sledgehammer echoed from downstairs: "Got it!"