23: Chapter 23 Wang Hai's fierce attack appeared to him as if it were in slow motion.

The Out-of-Control Chessboard

The holographic screen at the Oriental Sports Center was still replaying the slow-motion footage of Carlos falling to the ground when Professor Wang Hai suddenly smashed the thermos in his hands.

Tea mixed with tea leaves splattered onto the buttons of the monitoring console, and the screen instantly displayed garbled characters — the "violent fake-busting" he had meticulously planned had ultimately become a laughingstock for global live streaming.

"Professor Wang Hai, the backup team is ready," the chief assistant whispered as a reminder, handing over a list. "The 'Underground Fighting Seven' have already reached the back door. Each of them brought three types of prohibited weapons, guaranteed to make Chen Wu look bad."

Professor Wang Hai's fingernails dug deeply into his palms, and blood seeped along the palm lines. He watched the screen showing Chen Wu guiding the children in practicing martial arts; the "Qi" of those children condensed into butterfly shapes under the sunlight, beautiful enough to be ironic. "Tell them, do not hold back," his voice was as hoarse as sandpaper rubbing together. "Even if they break his legs, I can get lawyers to suppress the matter!"

Inside the venue, Chen Wu was adjusting the Stance Training posture for Zhao Mengmeng's grandfather. The old man's "Qi" could already form a faint white mist above his head; this was a sign of "Major Achievement" in Stance Training.

"Little Wu," the old man suddenly spoke, his cane gently tapping the ground. "I can 'listen' to seven streaks of baleful Qi to the west, carrying the metallic scent of blood. The arrivals are not well-intentioned."

Chen Wu's fingertips had just touched the old man's back, helping him clear the congested "Qi", and he paused upon hearing this. The number of online viewers in the bottom right corner of the holographic screen had already exceeded 8 million, and the live chat was full of anticipation for the next match; no one knew that a conspiracy was brewing.

"Xu Hao, notify security to strengthen the perimeter on the west side," Chen Wu's voice was calm and waveless. "Tell the technical department to set the live broadcast camera frame rate to the maximum. I want the global audience to see clearly what is called 'true violence'."

The Seven Beasts

Seven minutes later, the fire door on the west side of the venue was kicked open from the outside.

Seven men in black tight-fitting clothes filed in, each carrying special equipment in their hands — spiked gloves, short sticks wrapped in iron chains, and brass knuckles dipped in chili water. Their movements were fierce and crisp, clearly hardened characters who had fought in underground fighting rings for years. They rushed toward the stage upon entering, knocking down several audience members who couldn't dodge in time.

"It's the 'Seven Heroes'!" someone in the audience exclaimed. "I've seen their black market fights in Bangkok; they've beaten three opponents to death!"

The leader, Scarface, suddenly accelerated and threw the short stick violently from three meters away from the stage. The iron chain carried a whistling sound, aiming straight for the back of Chen Wu's head, and the spikes on the tip of the stick gleamed coldly in the light.

At this moment, Chen Wu's world suddenly slowed down.

It was not that time had slowed down in a physical sense, but rather that his "Listening Energy" had reached an unprecedented Realm — he could capture the most minute vibrations in the air. He could "see" the trajectory of the rotation of every link on the iron chain, could "hear" the frequency of Scarface's muscle contractions, and could even "perceive" the shift in the opponent's center of gravity when throwing the weapon.

In the eyes of the global audience, Chen Wu only slightly tilted his head, and the short stick flew past his ear, smashing into the bronze tripod behind him with a crisp "clang". But under the 1 million frames per second high-speed camera, one could clearly see his cervical spine twist at an incredible angle; while avoiding the attack, his right hand had already made a blocking posture.

"Too slow," Chen Wu's voice came through the microphone, carrying a trace of indifference.

Scarface's pupils suddenly contracted — his "Chain-Lock Flying Strike" had never missed; even the fastest opponents could only barely use their arms to block it, and Chen Wu's reaction speed had already exceeded the limits of a human.

The second person to rush up was a bald, burly man wearing spiked gloves, who punched toward Chen Wu's ribs. In his own view, this punch was as fast as lightning, but in Chen Wu's eyes, the trajectory of the fist was as clear as a slow-motion replay: the angle of the elbow was wrong, the left shoulder was too high when exerting force, and the center of gravity was all pressed on the left leg — it was full of flaws.

Chen Wu even had time to explain to the camera: "Everyone look, this method of exerting force seems fierce, but it is actually very easy to be borrowed." He gently raised his hand, used the heel of his palm to resist the opponent's fist, and slightly led it along the momentum.

The bald, burly man only felt a burst of clever force coming, and his own fist suddenly changed direction, smashing heavily onto his own ribs. With a crisp "crack", he curled up on the ground in pain, and cold sweat instantly soaked his tight-fitting clothes.

The live chat was completely crazy:

"Holy crap! What kind of god-like reaction speed is this?"

"I watched the slow motion ten times! Brother Wu didn't use force at all, it was that bald guy hitting himself!"

"8.5 million online now! Seven Heroes, stop embarrassing yourselves!"

"Testifying from Los Angeles! My physics teacher says this is the perfect application of conservation of momentum!"

The Art of Slow Motion

The remaining five thugs saw this and actually took out chili water sprays at the same time, spraying toward Chen Wu's face. Yellow clouds of mist filled the air, carrying a pungent smell, and even the front-row audience couldn't help but cover their noses.

Chen Wu, however, seemed to have predicted their movements in advance. The moment the spray was ejected, he suddenly lowered his waist and planted his stance. The "Qi" in his body circulated rapidly along his Meridians, forming an invisible barrier on the surface of his body — this was the result of the combination of the body tempering pill and the Zhou Tian Transport Technique, which could block low-speed flying objects and liquids.

The chili water mist suddenly stagnated half a meter away from him, and then dispersed like it had encountered an invisible wall.

"This is a 'Qi Wall'," Chen Wu showed his palm to the camera, the faint golden light on his palm clearly visible. "Every person who has undergone Awakening can master it when they reach a certain Realm; the principle is like using an airflow to push away obstacles."

The five thugs completely panicked and swung their equipment wildly. Someone used brass knuckles to poke at Chen Wu's eyes, someone used a short stick to sweep his knees, and someone even wanted to hug him to die together. But in Chen Wu's eyes, their movements were as slow as an old lady taking a walk, and the intent of every Move was fully exposed.

He was like dancing an elegant dance, stepping lightly to avoid all attacks, occasionally extending his palm, either slapping or pressing, always accurately hitting the opponent's flaws. There was no earth-shattering collision, only the successive screams of the thugs — someone had a dislocated wrist, someone had a displaced knee, and someone was hit on the head by their own weapon.

The most dramatic was the short man who wanted to hug his leg; Chen Wu just lifted his foot slightly, and he lost his balance, spinning like a top and flying out, just happening to crash into the rushing Scarface. The two rolled into a ball, completely disheveled.

Professor Wang Hai was smashing the keyboard frantically in the monitoring room: "Shoot! Let the sniper shoot!"

The chief assistant's face was pale: "Professor Wang Hai, we didn't hire a sniper... and there are fifty thousand people in the venue, people will die!"

Professor Wang Hai slumped into his chair, watching Chen Wu's calm figure on the screen, and suddenly realized a terrible fact — the "Seven Heroes" he had hired were not opponents in the other's eyes at all, but just seven clowns for people to watch.

The Victor of Time

The last thug had his wrist pinched by Chen Wu with two fingers, unable to Move. The short stick in his hand was only ten centimeters away from Chen Wu's chest, but it could no longer advance a single bit.

"Still fighting?" Chen Wu's gaze looked at him calmly. "I advise you to let go; your wrist bone is about to break."

The thug's face turned purple, veins bulging on his forehead, but he couldn't break free from those seemingly slender fingers no matter what. In the end, he let out a scream, the short stick fell to the ground with a "clatter", and his wrist was twisted at a strange angle.

The cheers of the whole venue made the dome buzz. On the holographic screen, the global number of online viewers finally settled at "9.12 million", and the reward amount exceeded 200 million.

Chen Wu walked to the center of the stage, looked at the seven howling thugs on the ground, and spoke slowly to the camera: "Everyone has seen it, this is the 'practical violence' advocated by Professor Wang Hai — relying on equipment, attacking vital points, with no technique at all."

His gaze turned to the monitoring room on the west side, as if he could penetrate the walls to see Professor Wang Hai inside: "And true Dao is about the control of power, the grasp of timing, and the respect for life. It allows you to find your own rhythm in lightning-fast attacks. This is not slow motion; this is the art of time."

After speaking, he extended his palm toward the bronze tripod. The Taotie pattern on the tripod suddenly lit up, shooting out seven golden lights, which fell on the injuries of the seven thugs respectively. The originally howling thugs suddenly quieted down, surprised to find that their pain had lessened a lot.

"This is the healing ability of 'Qi'," Chen Wu explained. "Dao can not only hurt people but also save people."

In the monitoring room, Professor Wang Hai looked at the seven golden lights on the screen and suddenly covered his face. He knew he had completely lost, lost disastrously. Not only lost in strength but also lost in the understanding of "power".

Police sirens came from outside the venue. When Lin Xue led the SWAT team to rush into the monitoring room, what she saw was Professor Wang Hai's desperate figure slumped in his chair, and Chen Wu's calm smile on the screen.

Chen Wu's gaze swept over the cheering crowd and landed on the hole in the dome. The sunlight there shone right on him, plating him with a layer of golden halo. He knew that this victory was just the beginning. When 9.12 million people around the world witnessed the true meaning of Dao, more challenges and opportunities were waiting for him in the future.

But at this moment, feeling the "Qi" resonating with 9.12 million people in his body, he only had peace in his heart. Because he understood that true strength is not making the opponent slow down, but keeping oneself calm forever.

The last frame of the live broadcast was the back of Chen Wu walking toward the bronze tripod, and the global live chat scrolling on the screen:

"This is not slow motion, this is a god!"