SWDnovel Chapter 88 A Fist Beats a String of Qi, Soldiers Fight with Fierce Killing Intent
Chapter 88 A Fist Beats a String of Qi, Soldiers Fight with Fierce Killing Intent
Chapter 88 A flurry of punches, a warrior's fierce fighting spirit.
The commotion on the long street was suppressed again, then suddenly rose again.
If the first race was too fast, many people didn't have time to react.
The second match was a brutal demonstration of close-quarters chokehold techniques. The flexibility and ferocity of the chokeholds, like a python coiling around a person, were breathtaking and sent chills down the spine.
The commotion was even more pronounced among the Chinese community, with some even murmuring cheers. Deputy Director DuPont's eyes held a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
Yagyu Muneaki's face was as black as the bottom of a pot.
He defeated two opponents in a row, crippling them instantly, without even breaking a sweat.
At this moment, DuPont's face darkened. He stepped forward and whispered to Yagyu, "Yagyu-kun, that's enough. I'll handle this through diplomatic channels—"
Yagyu suddenly raised his hand to interrupt him, and said in a deep voice, "Mr. DuPont, this is the honor of the Japanese samurai."
He slowly unfastened the katana from his waist and handed it to the attendant behind him. Then he took off his wooden clogs, wearing only white socks, and slowly stepped into the circle.
Stand with your feet apart, front foot lightly touching the ground and back foot firmly planted. Hold your fists at your sides with the knuckles facing upwards and elbows slightly bent to protect your ribs.
This is the stance from the "Three Battles" of karate, as stable as a rock.
As dusk settled, it stained half of his body a dark blue.
People on both sides of the long street held their breath.
Zhou Xing's eyes narrowed slightly.
At this moment, this person has assumed a stance, and with the feedback from the internal force, his blood and qi are condensed, his heartbeat is slow and deep, and his fascia is throbbing. His internal force cultivation has probably reached his entire body, making him a level above himself.
Several Liu Yishou were forced out.
The enemy was stronger, but this time, Zhou Xing made the first move.
He swept through the strongholds all day, defeated two Japanese samurai in succession, and was invincible.
At this moment, his fighting spirit was at its peak and his momentum was at its strongest!
I am invincible!
He slid his left foot forward, the sole of his shoe grinding against the stone slab, like wading through an invisible layer of silt.
The steps were heavy, but with each step, the waist and hips twisted, concentrating all the strength in the body into one.
His right fist twisted out from under his ribs, the fist scraping against the seam of his trousers as it drilled upwards, carrying a force that rose from his feet, was propelled by his waist and back, and mixed with all his strength and momentum, straight into Yagyu's jaw.
Xingyi Drill Fist Skyward Cannon!
"hiss!"
The sound came out with his hand, and the air in front of his fist was pushed aside, like a snake spitting its tongue.
Yagyu Muneaki's pupils suddenly contracted.
Before the fist even arrived, a heavy, viscous, and tyrannical invisible pressure had already struck his face.
That's not the wind, it's a kind of momentum.
This punch contained the victory achieved in an afternoon of sweeping through five locations and capturing prisoners alive, the resentment and fear of those dozens of criminals, and the pull of all eyes on both ends of the long street.
It was as if he were at odds with everyone on the street.
Yagyu's heart skipped a beat, and a thought flashed through his mind instinctively:
retreat!
But his more than forty years of arduous practice came into play at this time.
His toes gripped the stone slab beneath his white socks tightly, and his waist muscles instantly tensed into an iron plate, forcefully pinning his instinct to shrink back to the spot.
Not retreating, not even a single step.
But a fleeting thought of retreat crossed his mind, and his resolve slowed down by a fraction.
The drilling punch has arrived.
Yagyu parried with his right arm, his forearm bone stiffening against the ground.
"Bang!"
Flesh and bone collided, producing a sound like striking wood.
Liu Sheng felt a slight numbness in his arm bones and was startled: the force of this drilling punch was even heavier and more penetrating than he had expected!
Zhou Xingquan's fist was blocked, but his strength continued.
With another twist of his waist and hips, his right fist, which had been blocked, spread outwards and hooked, deflecting Liu Sheng's blocking arm slightly.
At the same time, he planted his left foot firmly on the ground, and his right foot stomped into his center. Using the momentum of the stomping step, his left fist exploded from his waist, striking straight at Yagyu's heart!
Xingyi Bengquan!
Simple, direct, and domineering.
The punch came out like a spear thrust, carrying a ruthless force that advanced rather than retreated, and arrived with a thunderous roar.
Yagyu slammed his left arm down, trying to break through the powerful punch.
The fists and arms collided twice.
"Thump!"
The muffled sound deepened.
Liu Sheng felt as if he had been hit not by a fist, but by a battering ram covered in iron. Not only was the force fierce, but the opponent's punches were also so continuous that he didn't even have a chance to catch his breath.
Although his feet did not move back, his upper body was knocked back slightly by the impact.
With Zhou Xing gaining the upper hand, he unleashed his full power in his fist techniques.
After the Bengquan (crushing fist), the right fist rose from under the ribs, like a giant axe splitting a mountain, and chopped down on the head.
Chopping Fist!
Liu Sheng crossed his arms and braced himself, "snap!" The stone slabs beneath his feet creaked softly.
He felt frustrated. He was clearly stronger, but his opponent threw punch after punch without stopping or hesitating, as naturally as water flowing downhill.
He was carried along by this momentum and couldn't find an opening to exert his strength.
Zhou Xing, however, fought with increasing ease, his breath flowing freely between his fists and feet, bringing life wherever it went.
The chopping punch was blocked, but the momentum didn't stop. Instead, the chopping motion was transformed into a drilling motion, with the fist rotating to drill into Yagyu's weak point from an unpredictable angle.
Yagyu's hidden strength was indeed profound. He twisted his body and tucked in his abdomen, barely dodging the attack. At the same time, his right leg swept like a whip towards Zhou Xing's knee, carrying the sharpness of a karate foot sword.
Zhou Xing did not flinch, but raised his knee and thrust forward.
"Thump!"
Their shinbones collided, and they both swayed.
But Zhou Xinghuang's stance remained perfectly firm despite the movement.
As if oblivious to pain, he used the recoil from the collision to naturally rotate his waist and hips, and his left fist, like a cannonball, blasted out from the rotation, smashing towards Yagyu's face.
Cannon Fist!
Liu Sheng dodged the blow by tilting his head, but the punch grazed his ear, the force of the wind stinging his cheek. He felt a surge of anger; his cultivation was clearly far superior, yet he had been beaten so humiliatingly.
He roared and gathered all his hidden strength in his right fist, using the most powerful "straight punch" in karate to strike Zhou Xing's chest, forcing him to fight back!
The fist whistled through the air, its force solid and concentrated; this punch was heavy, ruthless, and carried a desperate, reckless intensity.
Zhou Xing, however, did not take the bait.
His left hand, which had missed its target with his cannon punch, pressed down and touched the wrist of the incoming Yagyu punch. He made a quick touch and then moved away, using the "slippery" force of Baguazhang to deflect the punch by a line.
At the same time, he slid half a step to the side and back with his right foot, and his body turned halfway to avoid facing him. The movement was smooth and fluid.
Liu Sheng's all-out punch missed its mark, the force dissipating into the air, leaving his chest wide open.
Just this one moment!
Zhou Xing's half-turned body suddenly twisted back, like a taut bowstring snapping back.
The spine resonated with a slight hum, combining all the smooth flow of energy, the growing confidence in the heart, and the opportunity presented by the opponent's momentary opening. With an explosive twist of the waist, all of this energy was channeled into the right arm, resulting in a sweeping punch!
Xingyi Horizontal Fist! Like a spear sweeping horizontally, striking at the waist!
Liu Sheng's pupils contracted sharply. He tried to raise his arm to block, but it was too late. He could only hastily gather his hidden strength.
"boom!!!"
The horizontal punch landed solidly on his right ribs. The force of the impact caused a dull thud in his flesh and bones, like being struck by a heavy hammer.
Liu Sheng's body suddenly arched, and his eyes instantly became bloodshot.
With a strange "clunk" sound from his throat, his feet could no longer stay on the ground, and he was thrown backward. With a "bang," he crashed heavily to the ground more than ten feet away from the circle, raising a cloud of dust.
He was clearly stronger, but he lost by a single thought at the very beginning, and his weakness was exploited, leaving him constantly at a disadvantage. From the first punch to now, his opponent's every move, every transition, was terrifyingly fluid.
He curled up, trying to support himself with his hands, but vomited a mouthful of foamy, stagnant blood and couldn't get up no matter what.
Zhou Xing slowly withdrew his fist, stood still, his chest heaving.
Those dozen or so punches just now came out exceptionally smoothly. So smoothly that towards the end, I almost didn't need to think; the power came naturally, and the punches were thrown.
Even now that I've stopped, that smooth, warm current is still flowing through my body.
"A series of punches delivered in one continuous motion—is that power?"
Zhou Xing savored the feeling he had just experienced, the sensation that made everyone on the street feel like they were part of his martial art.
Using power to intimidate others is the only righteous and honorable path. Even if the opponent is stronger, losing power means losing the fight.
As dusk fell completely, the circle was reduced to a faint trace in the twilight.
Outside the circle, the Japanese ronin were utterly silent.
In the Huamin pile, someone let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Zhou Xing!"
A furious shout suddenly rang out.
Upon hearing this, Zhou Xing turned his head and saw Du Bang, the deputy commissioner of the French Concession Police, taking out the pistol from his waist.
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