No Martial Virtue

Jia Yanyong was genuinely strong; in an honest fight, Lin Zheyu might not have been his match. Having landed the first strike, Lin Zheyu pressed forward immediately. Unleashing a flurry from the Wild Bull Fist, he easily dodged Jia Yanyong, who—blinded and flailing his arms like wild windmills—could not land a single blow. With little effort, Lin Zheyu knocked him flat onto the ground. "For your brother's sake, I'll spare your life. You won't be so lucky next time." "Go rinse your eyes with water. If you hurry, you might still save them." Lin Zheyu looked down at Jia Yanyong, whose eyes were streaming non-stop, as he spoke. With more and more onlookers gathering around, Lin Zheyu stopped fighting. Had this not been within the inner city with pedestrians everywhere, he would have dealt a lethal blow and finished the man off then and there. Circling around Jia Yanyong, Lin Zheyu walked toward home as if nothing had happened. *** Moonlight poured over the courtyard like a waterfall. Having changed into tight-fitting martial attire, Lin Zheyu arrived at Liang Song's yard. The two came to a halt in the center of the grounds. Lin Zheyu sank into an offensive stance, while Liang Song stood with his hands clasped behind his back, a faint smile on his face, looking every bit like the legendary master of lore. "Use every skill you have and attack me." "Pardon the offense, Master," Lin Zheyu said. The muscles in his calves bunched and detonated, propelling him toward Liang Song like a loosed arrow. The essence of the Wild Bull Fist lay in raw ferocity; when executed, the form radiated an unstoppable momentum. At this moment, power surged from his thighs through the pivot of his waist, gathering the whole body's strength and pouring into both fists. Wild Bull Fist, First Stance: Wild Bull Charge! Both fists blasted out simultaneously, one orthodox, one unorthodox. The direct punch surged with unmatched force straight for the face, compelling the opponent to focus all their energy on blocking it. The other punch drove straight for the waist and abdomen, catching the enemy off guard when least prepared. The orthodox and unorthodox strikes could reverse roles in an instant. If the opponent concentrated on countering the blow to the stomach, the frontal fist would immediately become the lethal finisher, capable of splitting their skull open! *Bang!* Liang Song reached out with both hands, gripping Lin Zheyu's wrists—one from above, the other from below. Turning slightly to the side, his arms surged with sudden force. Borrowing Lin Zheyu's own momentum, Liang Song yanked hard, instantly stripping Lin Zheyu of his balance. Stumbling forward several paces, Lin Zheyu realized the danger, but it was already too late. *Thud—* A sharp agony erupted in his abdomen, and Lin Zheyu flew backward through the air. Under the moonlight, Liang Song patted his lame leg and resumed his stance. "Master, did you really have to hit that hard?!" Lin Zheyu scrambled to his feet, rubbing his stomach, where a burning pain flared. It truly hurt. For all his advanced years, his master was still terrifyingly formidable. "Hit hard, and you'll remember it deep." "Actual combat is about turning weaknesses into strengths and striking the weak with the strong." "Your strike just now was very powerful, while the strength I used didn't even equal half of yours. Relatively speaking, I was in a position of weakness." "Yet by applying the right techniques, one can borrow the enemy's force to strike back—adding just a bit of extra momentum to your power, making you lose control and forfeit your balance." "Your fierce power instantly turned into your greatest vulnerability, and by seizing that opening to attack, I struck your weakness with my strength." "When encountering such a situation, you must..." Liang Song explained with meticulous care, walking Lin Zheyu through practical combat techniques and countermeasures. Once finished explaining, Liang Song personally walked through the movements in slow motion. "Again. Attack just as you did before, then counter using what I just taught you." Having demonstrated the moves, Liang Song signaled for Lin Zheyu to resume. Lin Zheyu recalled the lessons he had just absorbed, his understanding of Liang Song's teachings deepening. His eyes hardened with resolve, and he shot toward Liang Song once more. *Thwack, thwack, thwack—* This time, Lin Zheyu traded several exchanges with Liang Song. *Bang—* Without fail, Lin Zheyu was sent flying by another kick. "Master, you cheated! You never said this move had such a flaw!" Lin Zheyu rubbed his belly as he got to his feet. The countermeasure Liang Song had just taught him had been effortlessly picked apart by another maneuver only moments later. "Keep your mind flexible." "Forms are dead, but people are alive." "No one in a real fight sticks rigidly to martial forms. You have to adapt fluidly to changing circumstances." Liang Song admonished him, pointing out Lin Zheyu's shortcomings once more. "Again!" *** *Bang—* "Again!" *Bang—* *** All night long, Lin Zheyu was either getting kicked or on his way to being kicked. Liang Song seemed to have a particular penchant for kicking people. If he wasn't kicking Lin Zheyu in the gut, he was kicking his backside or his chest. "No more, no more!" Lin Zheyu bared his teeth, a scorching pain radiating from his cheek. Liang Song had just kicked him right in the face! Talk about having no martial virtue—you don't hit people in the face! "Hiss—" "Master, you crossed the line! Kicking is one thing, but kicking me in the face?!" Lin Zheyu sucked in a breath of cold air, protesting with bitter indignation. In all his life, he hated being struck in the face the most. But against the man before him, he stood no chance... "Hmph, what's wrong with a kick to the face? I'm your master, aren't I allowed to strike you?" Liang Song replied blandly, though he felt a bit sheepish inside. Truth be told, he hadn't managed to pull his strike in time. Lin Zheyu's comprehension and learning speed were remarkably high, and he applied every lesson with astonishing quickness. A momentary lapse in attention had nearly allowed Lin Zheyu's punch to reach his abdomen. In his haste, Liang Song's right foot had lashed out on instinct, catching Lin Zheyu flush on the cheek and sending him tumbling. "Take this medicine. Rub it on tonight, and it won't hurt when you wake up tomorrow morning." Liang Song fished out a small vial and tossed it to Lin Zheyu. Lin Zheyu unplugged the stopper and took a sniff; a pungent, medicinal aroma filled his nostrils. "Thank you, Master." "Remember to come early tomorrow. I'll teach you something else." "Understood, I'll definitely come early!" Lin Zheyu answered, a flicker of anticipation rising in his heart.