Chapter 382 - 271: Formidable Foe (2)
Coach Garrison was a nationally renowned free-fighting champion who had also trained a batch of outstanding talent. His word was law, treated as gospel by countless students. To think that this authority was now being challenged by some nobody. His pupils contracted. Suppressing his rage, he asked, "What part of it is wrong?"
The young man ignored the coach’s barely suppressed fury and spoke out. "The true martial way is about the constant Cultivation of the self. The ultimate goal isn’t to knock down your opponent, but to develop your own potential to its absolute limit. The path of martial arts must be cultivated from the inside out, balancing both, to reach the highest realm. When that happens, as a natural outcome, the body will develop its own resistance. It isn’t about just learning how to take a beating. As the saying goes: Strength is no match for Qi, and Qi is no match for cultivated skill. The path of a true martial artist lies in the Cultivation of internal energy. Practice the fist but not the discipline, and you’ll find yourself empty-handed in old age. The coach just preaches the arduous training of external skills, forging his so-called ’steel sinews and iron bones’ through the foolishness of taking hits. Even if that makes you dominant for a time, you’re bound to be utterly defeated the moment you face a true master..." He spoke with such eloquence that all the other students were completely captivated.
Seeing this wet-behind-the-ears kid so eloquently tear his theories to shreds, Coach Garrison could no longer contain his fury. He roared, cutting the young man off, "You talk a good game! So that makes you one of these so-called ’true masters,’ does it? Fine! Step up, and let me experience this ’true martial way’ of yours for myself."
The young man just smiled faintly and, under the worried gazes of the other students, strode forward. One of the prettier female students couldn’t help but grab his arm. "Don’t go." Then she bowed to the coach. "I’m sorry, Coach. He just signed up at the gym yesterday. Today is his very first training session..." Hearing this, the coach’s expression softened slightly. But the young man didn’t appreciate the gesture. He gently pried the student’s hand from his arm and continued, "Yes, this is my first time coming to the gym. And it will also be my last. Because what I want to learn—the true martial way—isn’t here." As he spoke, he had already walked to a spot five paces opposite Coach Garrison.
Coach Garrison’s face went from purple to pale with rage. He could no longer suppress the fire in his heart and bellowed, "Fine! Today, I’ll show you what a true martial way is. Make your move!" With that, he fell into a stance. Facing Coach Garrison, who stood like a mountain poised to erupt, the students all broke out in a cold sweat for the young man. But the young man didn’t press the attack. He just gave a casual smile and said, "The key to victory is to use stillness to overcome motion. Strike second and you control your opponent; strike first and you will be controlled." The implication was that he disdained to take the first move offered by the coach, and was instead giving him a lesson.
Coach Garrison roared in fury, "Arrogant kid!" He lunged forward in a single step, chopping a palm at the young man’s chest. The young man turned his body to the side, evading the blow. With his first strike missing, Coach Garrison’s iron arm swung around in a sweeping blow toward the young man’s ribs. The young man’s body was like a willow branch in the wind; he bent backward at an angle, his hair brushing the ground as he dodged the strike. The grace and flexibility of his movement drew involuntary cheers from the students. Coach Garrison let out another angry shout as his Iron Palm chopped down toward his opponent’s waist. It seemed the young man had nowhere left to dodge this furious attack, and the crowd couldn’t help but cry out in alarm.
But in that razor-thin moment, the young man spun like a pinwheel. Leaping into the air like a great white bird, his right leg shot out like a lightning bolt, kicking at Coach Garrison’s face. Coach Garrison had no time to press his advantage and quickly raised his arms to protect himself. The young man’s toes tapped against the coach’s forearms, and using the momentum, he leaped back a graceful five paces, once again standing opposite the coach.
The exchange happened in a flash. The attacks were like thunderbolts, the evasions effortlessly graceful. Though no victor was decided, the students couldn’t help but applaud. It seemed this kid wasn’t all talk; he had some real skill. Coach Garrison’s famous "Iron Wire Fist" hadn’t been able to touch him at all. Coach Garrison’s arms throbbed with a dull ache where the young man’s kick had landed. He chalked the hidden loss up to his own carelessness, which only made him angrier. "What’s the point of just dodging?" he roared. "Is your so-called ’true martial way’ only for running away? Try taking one of my moves head-on if you dare!" With that, he leaped into the air, his right foot kicking out towards the young man’s chest. This move carried immense force. Coach Garrison was truly enraged now; this was no longer a simple spar. If this "Flying Kick Ancient Tripod" landed, it could shatter a man of stone.
The young man straightened the collar of his martial arts uniform. "Fine," he said. He also leaped into the air and met the coach with the exact same "Flying Kick Ancient Tripod" in a direct, artless clash. Both of their kicks landed on the other’s shin. Coach Garrison felt the tremendous force in his own leg vanish as if it were a stone sinking into the ocean, completely neutralized by his opponent. At the same time, an overwhelming, irresistible power surged from the young man’s leg, so powerful it felt as if his own bone was about to snap. Coach Garrison landed, the point of impact screaming with unbearable pain. He staggered back several steps before managing to steady himself. Only then, his face pale with shock, did he realize he had encountered an exceptionally powerful master. The young man landed lightly with a backflip. Before he was even steady, he immediately followed up with a sweeping kick. It struck Coach Garrison’s shin hard once again. Even though he was built like a mountain, he was nearly sent tumbling to the ground. He trembled, stumbling back several more steps before he could barely hold his stance.