22: Chapter 22 "You Make the First Move": Chen Wu's Composure

The Boiling Holographic Screen

The holographic projection platform at the Oriental Sports Center suddenly emitted a harsh electric buzzing sound.

The number originally displaying "Global Online Viewers: 3.87 million" jumped crazily, finally settling at "5 million" as the lighting in the entire venue suddenly switched to gold.

Fifty thousand audience members raised their phones simultaneously, the light from their screens merging into a sea of stars, weaving with the golden light from the dome into a magnificent web of light—this was a special effect unlocked by the System for "Online Viewers Exceeding 5 Million," and a silent tribute to the global audience.

"Brother Wu, Professor Wang Hai is making another move!" Xu Hao's voice carried incredible surprise. On the tablet he was holding, Professor Wang Hai's team's livestream was playing a training video of their "secret weapon."

"They've hired 'King of Underground Boxing' Carlos! This guy has fought 78 underground matches in Southeast Asia and has never lost. It's said he can kill a cow with one punch!"

Chen Wu was standing in front of the bronze tripod, guiding a few foreign Awakeners to feel the flow of "Qi."

One blonde girl's fingertips finally shimmered with a faint light, causing the floating ping pong ball to spin slightly, drawing kind applause from those around.

"Carlos?" He took the tablet. In the video, the muscular black man was using his fists to shatter concrete blocks. There was no protection on his knuckles, yet not even a layer of skin was broken.

"This guy's punch force test is 986 kilograms," Xu Hao swallowed hard. "That's 120 kilograms higher than Tyson's Peak period! Professor Wang Hai says he wants to let him 'tear apart pseudo-martial arts with scientific violence.'"

The barrage in the livestream was already boiling over:

"Holy crap! They even hired Carlos? Professor Wang Hai is trying to get someone killed!"

"986 kilograms... If that punch lands, Brother Wu might end up in the ICU."

"Don't be alarmist up there! Did you forget Brother Wu's 1,258-kilogram force tester record?"

"That's different! Underground boxing is about playing dirty, eye-gouging and kicking the crotch, anything goes!"

Chen Wu put down the tablet, his gaze falling on the venue entrance. The laser grid there suddenly parted, and a two-meter-tall muscular black man was walking in slowly. Each step caused the floor tiles to tremble slightly.

He wore no clothes, his bronze-colored muscles covered in scars. The most striking was the knife scar on his left chest, like a twisted snake—that was the "medal" of underground boxing.

Behind Carlos followed Professor Wang Hai. His suit was already wrinkled, and his gold-rimmed glasses hung crookedly on the bridge of his nose, but it couldn't hide the madness in his eyes: "Chen Wu, this is Carlos, the true 'King of Real Combat.' Today, let him tell you that fancy footwork is nothing in the face of absolute strength!"

Muscle vs. "Qi"

Carlos walked to the center of the stage, and the holographic projection platform immediately scanned his body data: height 203cm, weight 138kg, punch speed 14.2 m/s, punch force 986kg... Red numbers flickered around him, like a beast ready to pounce.

"You are Chen Wu?" Carlos's Chinese carried a heavy accent. He rolled his neck, making cracking sounds. "They say you are a good fighter, but in my eyes, you look like a scrawny little chicken."

Chen Wu was only 182cm tall, and standing in front of Carlos, he did indeed look thin. But his eyes were calm and waveless, and he even smiled at the camera: "In my hometown, there is an old saying: 'The meat of a steamed bun isn't in the pleats.'"

"I don't understand any steamed buns." Carlos suddenly smashed a punch into the force tester nearby. After a loud "bang," the display jumped to "992 kilograms," 6 kilograms higher than the previous record. "I only know that the person with the hardest fist has the right to speak."

The audience below gasped. Professor Wang Hai raised the microphone triumphantly: "See that? This is real combat power! Chen Wu, do you dare to be like him, without using any gimmicks of 'Qi,' and have a head-on fight?"

Chen Wu glanced at the cracked shell of the force tester and suddenly turned to the audience: "Everyone, what do you think is the essence of strength? Is it the hardness of muscles, or the conduction of energy?"

A physics student wearing glasses stood up and shouted: "It's the impulse-momentum theorem! F Δt = m Δv!"

"Well said." Chen Wu's voice, bolstered by "Qi," spread throughout the venue. "Mr. Carlos's strength is amazing, but his power stays on the surface, just like a hammer hitting a stone. No matter how hard it is, it will crack. But true Dao strength is like water flowing through stone; it seems soft, but it can penetrate the essence."

Carlos was completely enraged, veins bulging on his dark face: "Cut the crap! Either fight or admit defeat!"

Chen Wu slowly took off his white training uniform, revealing the smooth muscle lines after Body Tempering. He didn't strike any fighting pose, just stood with his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands hanging naturally: "You strike first."

These three words were like cold water thrown into hot oil, instantly igniting the whole venue.

"Holy crap! Is Brother Wu being too arrogant?"

"It's not arrogance, it's confidence! Didn't you see he didn't even bother to take a stance?"

"Reminds me of the masters in Wuxia novels, always letting the opponent make the first move."

"Global online viewers have exceeded 6 million! Carlos, hurry up and strike!"

The Distance of a Punch

Carlos's patience was completely exhausted. He roared and charged at Chen Wu like a wild bull, his right fist aiming straight for his face with a piercing sound—this was his finishing move, "Black Boxing Collapse," with which he had once broken an opponent's cervical spine.

Under the 1000 frames/second high-speed camera, one could clearly see the transmission of his muscles from his soles to his fists: calf muscles bulging, hip joint twisting 30 degrees, waist and abdomen fat thrown to one side by centrifugal force, and finally, the power gathered on the fist surface, forming a visible air wave.

Chen Wu stood still. It wasn't until the fist was only 30 centimeters from the tip of his nose that he leaned slightly to the side. This movement was incredibly fast, yet appeared incomparably composed, like a gust of wind brushing by, just enough to avoid all the force trajectories.

"Too slow." Chen Wu's voice rang in Carlos's ear.

The muscular black man's pupils shrank—he was clearly aiming at the other's face, how could he have missed? What shocked him even more was that Chen Wu's palm had pressed onto his lower back at some point, and a soft yet irresistible force came, causing his forward momentum to suddenly change.

"Bang!"

Carlos tripped as if by an invisible wall and fell to the ground in an extremely awkward posture, his chin hitting the shock-absorbing mat, making his vision go black with pain.

The whole venue was silent at first, then erupted into thunderous cheers.

"Is that it? My grandma is more flexible than him!"

"Did you see the slow motion? Brother Wu didn't dodge, he just went with his momentum and guided it!"

"Is this the legendary 'introducing the opponent into a void'? The essence of Taiji!"

"Global online viewers 6.5 million! Carlos, get up!"

Carlos roared and climbed up. This time he learned his lesson and didn't punch rashly, but circled around Chen Wu like a lion looking for a prey's weakness. Professor Wang Hai was jumping in anxiety off-stage: "Use your legs! Kick his knees!"

Carlos indeed lifted his right leg and delivered a sharp side kick straight at Chen Wu's knee joint—this was a dirty trick in fighting. Once it hit, it would cause dislocation at best, and a fracture at worst.

Chen Wu still didn't dodge. He extended his right hand and placed it on Carlos's ankle, seemingly casually. The "Qi" at his fingertips suddenly erupted, forming a tiny vortex. Carlos only felt like he had kicked cotton; his power was instantly drained. Even more terrifyingly, a rebounding force traveled up his lower leg, causing his knee joint to ache suddenly.

"Ah!" Carlos screamed and knelt on one knee, cold sweat dripping onto the ground along his cheeks.

Chen Wu withdrew his hand, his tone flat: "Your strength is great, but you used it in the wrong place. Just like this force tester," he pointed at the cracked instrument, "it can shatter the shell, but it can't shatter the chip inside—the true core is never on the surface."

The Confidence of Composure

Carlos completely broke down. Like an injured beast, he ignored the rules and pounced to hug Chen Wu's waist, wanting to use swarm tactics to wrestle him down. This was a common trick in underground boxing; as long as he could win, he didn't care about decency.

Chen Wu sighed softly. The moment Carlos's arms were about to tighten, he suddenly sank his Dantian, the "Qi" in his body rising along his spine, driving his whole body to make an extremely subtle tremor.

"Crack."

The arms Carlos used to hug Chen Wu suddenly lost strength, releasing him as if struck by electricity. He looked at his wrists in horror—there were no wounds, but a piercing pain came, as if his bones had been shaken loose.

"This is an application of 'Inch Power.'" Chen Wu explained to the camera. "It's not relying on brute force, but through the vibration of 'Qi' to destroy the opponent's force structure. Just like shaking the trunk of a tree, the leaves will naturally fall off."

He took a step forward, and before Carlos could react, he gently pressed his palm against his chest. There was no loud noise, no explosion, but Carlos felt as if all his strength had been drained, and he collapsed softly to the ground, unable to get up again.

The cheers of the whole venue caused fine dust to fall from the dome. On the holographic projection platform, the number of global online viewers finally settled at "7.23 million," creating a new record in human livestreaming history.

Chen Wu picked up a towel to wipe his hands, his gaze falling on the ashen-faced Professor Wang Hai: "Professor Wang, now do you understand why I said Dao isn't fancy footwork? It's not about how loud you shout or how much equipment you have, but about the understanding of the essence of strength."

Professor Wang Hai opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word. The technical team, legal team, and fighters he had hired were all lowering their heads now, like a group of popped balloons.

Chen Wu turned to the global audience, the golden lights casting long shadows behind him: "Today's livestream is ending soon, but I want to tell everyone that composure is not cowardice; it is the certainty after seeing through the essence. Just like facing Carlos's fist, I knew where its power came from, so naturally, I had a way to neutralize it."

His gaze swept across the sky outside the venue, where the golden light was dissipating, yet leaving an indelible mark in everyone's heart. "In the next livestream, let's talk about 'how to apply Listening Energy in daily life.' For example, how to judge a friend's mood through footsteps, how to find a leaking pipe through the sound of water—Dao is always around us."

The barrage in the livestream was flooded with "Brother Wu is mighty" and "Dao is immortal." Xu Hao watched the rapidly rising points in the background—7.23 million online viewers, converted into System points, was 72.3 million, enough to redeem the full version of the Muscle Tendon Change Classic.

Chen Wu walked to the bronze tripod, his fingertips touching the inside of the lid again. The seal script there had changed to "The sea accepts all rivers," as if telling him that true composure is not defeating others, but accommodating all differences.

Outside the venue, the sound of police sirens drew closer. Lin Xue walked in with the SWAT team. This time, their target was Professor Wang Hai's team. And Chen Wu knew this was not the end. When 7.23 million people worldwide witnessed the power of Dao, more challenges and opportunities were waiting for him in the near future.

But at this moment, feeling the "Qi" flowing peacefully in his body and listening to the cheers of fifty thousand people, there was only composure in his heart. Because he understood that as long as the Foundation was stable enough, no matter how the wind blows from the southeast, northwest, or southwest, he would remain unmoved.