Chapter Thirty-Seven: I Have Always Underestimated the Heroes of the World (Seeking First Review)

Hmm?

Lin Dong stopped in his tracks and looked up, seeing a figure standing with hands behind his back, immovable as a mountain. Clearly, those arrogant words just now had come from his lips.

Ignoring the shocked Jiang Ziyue and the slightly dazed Xia Qinghan beside him, Lin Dong calmed himself and observed every subtle gesture and expression of that figure.

“Could it be that he’s a master of condensing force?”

Questions arose in Lin Dong’s mind, urging him to seek the answer.

Among secular martial artists, as soon as one condenses internal energy, they become a true master. Their body blazes like a torch. When such masters are present, they can sense each other from afar.

A mere ordinary person appears to a martial artist as darkness, a stark contrast to the blazing torch—a difference as vast as fireflies to the bright moon.

A master who has condensed force walks among the crowd, a living torch to his peers.

Yet Lin Dong didn’t sense this from Jiang Yu—there could only be two possibilities: either Jiang Yu’s realm far surpassed his own, or Jiang Yu was nothing more than an ordinary person.

Lin Dong, only fifteen, relied on his hard-earned skills and great talent to condense energy and step into the ranks of secular masters.

In this world, a twenty-four or twenty-five-year-old master who has condensed force is already a rare prodigy. Given time, such a one could even aspire to the title of grandmaster.

If Jiang Yu were such a martial artist, wouldn’t that mean he was already above grandmaster? Otherwise, how could Lin Dong fail to detect anything amiss?

Soon, Lin Dong let out a sigh of relief—he must have overthought it. That person simply possessed formidable fighting skills. If he were in Jiang Yu’s place, he too could sweep through Mo Tian and Zhou Yongji.

Looking again at the ring, besides Mo Tian and Zhou Yongji, four or five more fighters had stepped up. Each specialized in various forms of combat.

“Young man, I hope you won’t regret your decision later,” Mo Tian said, his expression grim, no longer composed as before.

Repeatedly humiliated by Jiang Yu’s words, their achievements and status in the combat world were being denied. Just as a seasoned mechanic would never tolerate being questioned by a novice, so too did they bristle at such provocation.

Jiang Yu smiled faintly. “Just you lot? Not enough. Anyone else?”

A few more joined, making seven in total—three red belts, and with Mo Tian, a fifth-degree black belt, this team could sweep through any taekwondo club. Not to mention Zhou Yongji and a couple more experts.

Jiang Shaoqi sneered, “Jiang Yu, since you’re courting death, you’ve only yourself to blame. Not everyone will ignore your provocations.”

Zheng Xuan shook her head, “Is pride really so important?”

Voices of doubt echoed through the club.

Jiang Ziyue was so shocked she couldn’t speak. This guy seemed always bent on self-destruction—well, perhaps he’d finally learn his lesson.

“Let’s begin. I don’t have much time to waste on you.”

Even before Jiang Yu spoke, Mo Tian and Zhou Yongji had already attacked. Their cooperation was flawless, clearly honed through countless practice.

Mo Tian’s strength surpassed Liu Xu’s by a considerable margin—individually, he was nearly at the level of a typical special forces operative. Yet he lacked a certain lethal aura—none of them had been tempered in blood.

Only those who have been soaked in blood can be considered true fighters. In the UFC, every champion has struggled through life-and-death battles in the octagon, scars marking their bodies.

Only then can one be called a true master.

In the secular world, all combat arts return to their roots, endlessly refined through core techniques.

“Mo Tian and Zhou Yongji attacking together, one high, one low—their moves are unpredictable. Even I would have to avoid this strike,” Lin Dong thought, frowning, wondering how Jiang Yu would respond.

Retreat would be the best choice. Fighting is not about bravado; a momentary retreat sets the stage for a coming storm.

Yet Jiang Yu raised his arm and met Mo Tian and Zhou Yongji head-on.

After the clash, Mo Tian and Zhou Yongji retreated. The remaining fighters launched another relentless assault, waves crashing without respite.

Either unmoving, or striking like thunder.

Everyone used their full strength; pride was at stake—once lost, it would mean admitting their skills were mere show.

Hiss!

Mo Tian felt chills, his arm trembling inside his sleeve, nearly paralyzed, unable to respond.

Their arm bones had collided—Mo Tian felt as though he’d struck a steel bar, unyielding. His own arm went numb with pain—the more force he used, the more force rebounded.

It was like smashing a fist against a concrete wall; the pain depended on how hard you hit.

Mo Tian had used all his strength…

On the other side, Zhou Yongji’s face turned pale, his chest stifled from the shock.

Was this even human?

It was only a block, not a counterattack!

Smack!

In the split second that followed, three figures were sent flying.

No one saw how Jiang Yu struck.

First move of the Withering Blossom Hand: Hundred Petals Flying.

Boom!

Second move: Twisting Blossom Finger.

Largely, the ancient Flower Sect’s techniques were created by women; only the softness and unique physiology of a female body could fully unleash the Withering Blossom Hand.

Men were ill-suited for such Yin-based techniques.

Jiang Yu performed it himself, only to honor Princess Qishan.

Against these opponents, after secretly unleashing two moves of the Withering Blossom Hand, Jiang Yu didn’t use any more ancient powers. If he had, their bones would have crumbled like tofu.

Relying solely on his powerful physique, he stood firm against them all.

“Just as well, I can use their strength to test the limits of my body!”

With a casual sweep, Jiang Yu sent two more flying.

“Boxing?”

“Showing off before the master!”

With a cold snort, Jiang Yu curled his fingers, calmly saying, “Try my fist—let’s see how it compares to yours.”

He drew his right arm back, like a leopard poised to strike.

Bang!

He punched, Mo Tian had nowhere to retreat, forced to block.

Under countless gazes, Jiang Yu’s fist crashed into Mo Tian’s crossed arms. Unable to withstand the force, Mo Tian’s arms slammed into his chest.

An unstoppable surge of power flooded him, sending Mo Tian flying off the ring, uncertain if he’d been knocked out.

“Now try my kick!”

Jiang Yu suddenly raised his leg, bringing it down on Zhou Yongji’s head with overwhelming force.

The commanding pose was far more impressive than any flashy move.

“Ah!” Zhou Yongji screamed, collapsing to his knees like Liu Xu.

At that moment, all seven on the ring lay prostrate, unable to get up.

Jiang Yu stood tall, breath steady, dominating the scene.

Jiang Ziyue was dumbstruck, feeling as if she were dreaming, unable to believe the reality.

“Mo Tian, Liu Xu, Zhou Yongji—those three all lost to Jiang Yu?”

Such shock was as if a frail invalid had suddenly defeated a world-renowned strongman.

Seven opponents—and not one forced Jiang Yu back even a step? Even half a step would have been a victory.

“Who else wishes to challenge me?”

The same indifferent voice rang out once more.

Silence fell; no one dared answer.

Xia Qinghan’s eyes gleamed, “I’ve always underestimated the heroes of the world!”

“Jiang Yu, it seems I’ve underestimated you. I thought your talent lay in academics, but you’re truly gifted in martial arts.”

Mo Tian, Zhou Yongji, and Liu Xu were still reeling from their defeat.

Especially Mo Tian and Zhou Yongji—despite Jiang Yu’s decisive victory over Liu Xu, they kept raising their estimate of his strength, but only in combat did they realize the true gap between them.

Step, step, step!

Jiang Shaoqi retreated to the corner.

His lips trembled, but not a word escaped.

All of this began because of him.

When Jiang Yu’s gaze fixed upon him, Jiang Shaoqi felt a chill rise within.

“You’ve repeatedly provoked me. If not for your grandfather’s sake, you’d be a dead man already.”

The cold tone, paired with Jiang Yu’s fierce and decisive victory, left no one doubting his words.

Jiang Shaoqi’s face was ashen, his head bowed, lips clenched.

Meanwhile, Xia Qinghan’s smile grew, “Ziyue, remember how you begged me to take Jiang Yu in, to help him find a livelihood?”

Jiang Ziyue nodded, mouth agape and dazed.

Xia Qinghan turned to Lin Dong, “What do you think of him?”

Lin Dong’s expression was solemn, “Not bad. I might consider taking him as a disciple!”

“If he’s truly talented in this field, I may seek my teacher Lin Wangtian’s approval, pass on our techniques, and help him become a true master of condensed force!”