280: Chapter 277 A Word That Reveals the Truth

"Stop, stop, stop!"

Zhang Zhao rolled on the ground in a sorry state and scrambled to his feet, his legs kicking continuously like a tantrum-throwing brat, and by using the momentum of his legs against the ground, he finally managed to reach a safe distance.

Huff, huff!

Zhang Zhao gasped for air, his face flushed red. His clothes looked as if they had been violently torn apart by a brute, and one of his shoes had even fallen off to the side.

He scrambled up from the ground, trembling, looking for all the world like someone who had been forced to endure countless rounds of abuse, utterly exhausted yet forced to bear it.

He felt aggrieved, incredibly aggrieved. Looking down, he saw his upper body covered in bloody welts, his hair a tangled mess, and his face full of lingering fear.

What just happened? He couldn't quite remember.

He only knew that when he started, he had opened with Arhat Fist, preparing to follow up with Vajra Leg.

But then his vision blurred, his chest tightened, and immediately afterward came the six arts of Xingyi: Chicken Leg, Dragon Body, Eagle Claw, Tiger Pounce, Bear Shoulder, and Thunder Sound.

He was simply overwhelmed by the barrage.

He hadn't expected that, even in a friendly spar, Li Changsheng would strike so ruthlessly; the Eagle Claw had been executed with the power of Xinyiba, carrying the intent of 'hating the heavens for having no handle.'

Both hands struck with a force that penetrated through his body, a downward tearing and grabbing motion. This single Move pushed the sinking force to its absolute limit.

His five fingers hooked into several of his muscle joints, and with a sudden burst of power, he broke through his Shaolin Hard Qigong.

This was one of his hidden trump cards. Given his cunning nature—like a rabbit with three burrows—just when you thought you'd figured out the first layer, there was a second, and once you thought you'd reached the second, he had a third and a fourth.

But Li Changsheng's Move, using five fingers to break through the surface, clamped onto his power points. Before his Hard Qigong could even gather Qi, the force had already dissipated.

Then came a pull and a drag, and flesh seemed to fly.

It was just as well that Hard Qigong was one of the best around; it not only possessed the effects of Hard Qigong and internal strengthening Virgin Boy Skills, but also covered external strengthening.

It was a type of Hard Qigong that required years of daily practice, beating and striking with wooden sticks and hammers, and rubbing against sand; it required pure, ruthless discipline.

Therefore, even if the Qi couldn't be gathered, his skin and flesh remained extremely tough.

And if one could use Qi for defense, then in ancient times, one would be impervious to blades and spears.

The barrage of Eagle Claw strikes had really made Zhang Zhao suffer, but that wasn't all—then came Baji Quan and Pigua Zhang, hitting him just as he tried to find his footing, causing him to stagger repeatedly.

Fists, elbows, and legs were unleashed with clean, crisp precision; his strikes were like blades and spears, either stabbing, thrusting, or chopping.

Zhang Zhao knew very well that those who practiced Baji Quan well struck with unbelievable ferocity.

He also knew that during the two consecutive National Martial Arts Institute tournaments back in the day, although the winners were from Wrestling, Xingyi, and Tongbei School Pigua Zhang, Baji Quan was not among them.

However, Baji Quan was a required course at the National Martial Arts Institute. The reason it wasn't used was, first, everyone knew it, and second, they were afraid of killing people.

So, poor Master Zhang suffered again.

It was only because his Sun Style Tai Chi was decent—Parting the Wild Horses Mane, Opening and Closing Hands, Embracing the Tiger and Pushing the Mountain, Playing the Pipa, White Crane Spreads Its Wings, Single Whip—

that he could use these Moves, which were originally intended for both attack and defense, to purely defend and deflect the force of the fierce Li Changsheng.

There was no other reason; Zhang Zhao was astonished to discover that while the cunning Li Changsheng's Southern Fist power had been somewhat masked by his focus on technique, now that he was using Xingyi and Baji Quan, his fierce and domineering power was like a wild horse breaking free from its reins.

And Zhang Zhao was like the mantis trying to stop a chariot, only to be crushed by it.

"Master Zhang, would you like to see more? You've seen the fists and legs; we could also have a look at blades and spears."

Li Changsheng leaped back lightly and stood still, brushing off his sleeves with a relaxed air, and smiled faintly.

"No, no!"

Zhang Zhao waved his hands repeatedly; damn it, he would never trust this guy again.

He had thought he still had a trick up his sleeve and that no matter how powerful Li Changsheng's Xingyi and Baji Quan were, he wouldn't be able to do much to him.

After all, he wasn't afraid of minor injuries thanks to his Hard Qigong, and he figured the opponent wouldn't be able to handle one of his palm strikes.

But it turned out his Hard Qigong was pierced with a single poke, and when they clashed palms, he, the Iron Sand Palm practitioner, was easily suppressed by a single Crushing Fist from his opponent. There was no point in fighting anymore.

Fight? Fight my ass!

He was afraid that if he kept fighting, he would drop dead on the spot.

"Brother Li, how do you manage to generate such fierce and domineering power? You don't look like you have much meat on your bones."

Since they weren't fighting anymore, Zhang Zhao spoke much more casually, clicking his tongue in amazement as he looked at Li Changsheng's not particularly burly physique.

Li Changsheng understood what Zhang Zhao meant.

"Perhaps I have an Innate bone strength. I don't know if you've ever seen some Boxing practitioners; some are fat, some are thin, but when they hit people, it's like there's an iron hammer stuffed into their gloves—extremely lethal."

Li Changsheng could only explain it this way, otherwise he couldn't explain it at all, as his pure strength was truly cheating.

But his explanation successfully fooled Zhang Zhao.

"That's true. Some people are born with hard bones, as if their bones have muscles growing on them. Even if their frame is thin or fat, their fists are just fierce and powerful."

Zhang Zhao nodded; he had experienced this before.

In the past, when he had just learned some Hard Qigong, he had found an underground Boxing arena to fight—unofficial Boxing, also known as black market fighting.

As it turned out, he won the first few matches, but later he ran into a short, thin guy. He thought he could easily handle him, assuming the guy's punches would be soft and weak.

But when the punch landed, the fist felt like it was made of iron, instantly breaking through the Hard Qigong he was only just beginning to learn at the time.

It took only three punches to take him down, and the third punch broke his nasal bone.

Later he learned that such people were either born that way or trained for it—hitting sandbags in Boxing, kicking banana trees in Muay Thai, thrusting into iron sand for Iron Sand Palm, and so on.

If you combine both, even if you don't use much force, hitting someone will hurt like hell.

"But Brother Li, your power generation is almost at that Realm, right?"

Zhang Zhao thought of another point and unconsciously rubbed his body, feeling pain everywhere.

This level of skill hits the bone marrow. He could clearly feel that Li Changsheng had held back his strength in a few Moves, but the power still penetrated through.

This was even after he had used hidden energy and Sun Style Tai Chi to deflect and offset some of it. If he had been hit with full force, he would probably be pissing blood the next day.

"It's nothing; it's far from those Grandmasters of the past."

Li Changsheng shook his head and smiled faintly: "Master Sun Lutang and Master Guo Yunshen summarized several major levels: Ming, An, and Hua. I am now deep in An, and have only just begun to explore Hua; I haven't reached it yet."

"As for the three training Realms mentioned by the masters—Bone Changing, Tendon Changing, and Marrow Changing—you and I are about the same; we have both trained into the marrow."

"I practice Xingyi and Baji Quan; you practice Xingyi and Monkey Style."

At first, Zhang Zhao was clicking his tongue in amazement, but upon hearing this, his expression froze, and then he let out a slightly unnatural chuckle.

"Hehe... Li... Brother Li, you really know how to joke. Even if I have reached Marrow Changing, that would be due to Shaolin skills or Sun Style Tai Chi; what does Xingyi and Monkey Style have to do with it?"

Zhang Zhao waved his hands with a dry laugh.