Chapter 078: What Is Martial Arts

The Zhao father and son stood aside, eyes wide open, utterly stupefied. They had just witnessed with their own eyes how Wu Dong was sent flying by Lin Le with a single punch. Yet even they hadn't truly seen what had happened, for Lin Le's strike was simply too swift. All they knew was that only a moment before, Wu Dong still had the upper hand, forcing Lin Le into a steady retreat.

But in the very next instant, for reasons they could not comprehend, Wu Dong was knocked through the air.

Only Wu Dong himself understood what had really happened.

While it appeared Lin Le was being forced back, he was in fact luring his opponent forward, retreating only to mount a stronger counterattack. The moment Wu Dong, emboldened by his advantage, abandoned his defense in pursuit of the offensive, Lin Le seized the opening and drove a punch straight into Wu Dong's ribs.

Wu Dong had believed that his toughened body, forged through years of rigorous training, could easily withstand such a blow. After all, when fully guarded, he was nearly impervious to blades. But what he did not expect was that when Lin Le's fist landed, a strange, overwhelming force erupted from it, surging past Wu Dong's hardened flesh—like a stone thrown across a mountain—striking deep into his body.

First came a crisp crack; three ribs broke cleanly under the blow. Next, Wu Dong felt as if a giant hammer had struck his organs, causing them to churn violently and collide within his chest. Then, his body was hurled away, sent flying through the air.

The entire exchange lasted less than a second—no wonder the Zhao father and son, mere laymen, failed to grasp what had occurred.

Lin Le, drained of his inner energy, had to conserve what little strength remained. Against a difficult opponent like Wu Dong, he had no choice but to end the fight in a single, decisive move—no hesitation, no waste.

At that moment, Tu Manjiang finally turned his gaze toward the young man outside the car, reassessing him.

A voice rang out. “Well? You’ve been lounging in the car, napping and resting as if you’re some big shot. Are you going to make a move or not? If not, I’m going home to sleep!” Having dispatched Wu Dong, Lin Le called out to Tu Manjiang inside the car.

From the very start, Lin Le had taken note of Tu Manjiang’s presence. Though Tu Manjiang had not spoken a word nor made any overt display, Lin Le sensed the man’s formidable strength. It wasn’t about his airs or his silence—Lin Le could feel the aura radiating from him, a killing intent that nothing could conceal.

His instincts told him the man was formidable indeed.

In terms of pure skill, Lin Le was in no way inferior, but in his current depleted state, he stood little chance of victory against such an opponent. Nevertheless, with Tu Manjiang seated in the Zhao family's car, it was clear he had been brought in specifically to deal with Lin Le, and running was simply not an option.

Since that was the case, he could only face him head-on.

“Hm?” At Lin Le’s shouted challenge, Tu Manjiang started slightly. He could not recall how many years it had been since anyone had dared speak to him in such a manner. From his days ruling the underworld of Haizhou, with thousands of men calling him boss, to his decades dominating the prison after he was locked away, and now as an honored guest of the Qu family, overseeing their entire security force—through years of both triumph and adversity—never had anyone dared to show him such blatant disrespect.

But now, a brash youth was treating him with such disregard, and the murderous intent long dormant in Tu Manjiang’s heart flared to life once more.

With a thunderous crash, Tu Manjiang lashed out with his foot, sending the car door of the Mercedes flying over a dozen meters. The Zhao father and son, too stunned to care about their luxury car, were deeply shaken by the sheer force of that kick.

Lin Le’s face remained calm, but even he was surprised. From the power of that kick, he could tell that Tu Manjiang’s martial cultivation was at least at the early stage of internal mastery. Not only that, but like Wu Dong, he was a master of body hardening—a master whose strength clearly surpassed Wu Dong’s by far.

With internal energy at its peak and a body toughened by years of training, his martial prowess was nearly on par with those legendary masters who had transcended the ordinary.

Lin Le cursed inwardly. Damn it, I’ve really stirred up trouble this time. It’s like trying to ride a bike only for the chain to snap, or flirting with a girl only to realize I forgot protection—and just as I take off my pants, it turns out she’s a man...

What rotten luck!

Why did his inner strength have to fail him at such a critical moment, just when he encountered an opponent so troublesome?

Lin Le sighed inwardly—there was no choice left but to grit his teeth and face the challenge.

By now, the towering Tu Manjiang had stepped out of the car, his expression dark and foreboding as he stood steady as a mountain.

Seeing Tu Jingang about to act personally, the faces of Zhao Mingyi and his son Zhao Hu lit up with delight. Only moments ago, Wu Dong’s defeat had filled them with dread, but with Tu Jingang stepping forward, their worries were instantly dispelled.

Tu Jingang! The legendary Tu Jingang of Haizhou!

The man who once swept through the Haizhou underworld, annihilating entire families in his wrath!

In the eyes of countless citizens of Haizhou, Tu Jingang was akin to a god of war—how could a mere youth like Lin Le hope to contend with such a figure?

“You’re clever, but in the end, it’s nothing more than exploiting loopholes.” Tu Manjiang looked at Lin Le, his voice calm yet resonant as a great bell. In the quiet of the night, it seemed to shake the very air.

“Exploiting loopholes? If we’re talking about that, your entire school of body hardening is the true master of shortcuts, wouldn’t you agree?” Lin Le replied unhurriedly.

“Oh?” Tu Manjiang seemed intrigued by this view. “Go on,” he prompted.

“True martial arts require both internal and external cultivation,” Lin Le began. “The essence of martial practice is to defeat one’s enemies, but the path of martial arts is also to refine the self—one cannot forsake either. The body hardening path swiftly boosts one’s strength and grants fleeting dominance, but it does so at the cost of accumulating internal injuries, sowing seeds of future trouble. It is, in truth, the art of borrowing against one’s own body.”

“Moreover, the body hardening school is the most prone to bottlenecks, and breaking through becomes exceedingly difficult, especially upon reaching the higher echelons. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve been at the peak of internal mastery for at least ten years now, haven’t you?” Lin Le’s gaze was penetrating.

To Tu Manjiang, Lin Le’s words struck like thunder. He had taken the youth for a hotheaded novice—skilled, perhaps, but reckless and lacking in understanding. Yet after hearing Lin Le’s analysis, Tu Manjiang realized how gravely he had underestimated him.

Every word was incisive, every point struck home.

It was hard to believe that such insight could come from a boy of seventeen or eighteen.

Lin Le had only erred in one detail—Tu Manjiang hadn’t been at the peak for ten years, but for a full twenty.

Even when he was imprisoned, Tu Manjiang had already reached this level, believing that one day he would break through to become a true martial arts grandmaster. But twenty years had passed, and he remained where he was, without the slightest progress.

It was the greatest regret of his life.

“That is why I say the body hardening school is the real shortcut, the clever trick. Wouldn’t you agree?” Lin Le looked at Tu Manjiang calmly as he spoke.