Chapter 17: Dominance

The clash between Di Xuanluo and Zheng Meimei was just as intense, a brutal meeting of force. Yet Zheng Meimei, using some unknown secret technique, moved without the slightest sluggishness. This defied all logic.

Di Xuanluo’s fist technique was masterful. His punches continuously broke through Zheng Meimei’s defenses, landing solid blows on her body. Strangely, the effects seemed minuscule.

On the other side, Xiao Jian was also trading blows with Yang Tong. Suddenly, Xiao Jian shifted stance, his entire body becoming alarmingly swift. He was using the moves of Yang Tong’s Wind Wolf Fist.

Yang Tong, despite expecting this, couldn’t hide his shock. Wind Wolf Fist possessed a unique method of channeling power. Styles like this were known as Amplifying Fist Techniques. Their moves could be sophisticated or plain, flowing or isolated, but their essence lay in the power-channeling secrets. Without these secrets, grasping the art’s true depth was near impossible.

Yet Xiao Jian was producing that amplifying effect, and his execution seemed better than Yang Tong’s own.

His astonishment faded quickly. Yang Tong forced calm, analyzing and observing intently. After a close study, he spotted tiny clues. Xiao Jian was fighting with the Wind Wolf Fist stances, but his method of channeling power was even more refined than the original technique. This suggested his amplifying effect likely surpassed Wind Wolf Fist’s established threefold limit, reaching fourfold or higher!

In an instant, Yang Tong shifted his style to Taiji Fist. His movements tangled around Xiao Jian, disrupting his force, cutting off his root.

Xiao Jian was caught completely off guard. The opponent had abruptly jumped from a powerful, hard-and-fast style to its exact opposite. He had no time to retract his committed attacks.

Raise Hands, White Crane Spreads Wings, Brush Knee and Twist Step, Single Whip, Grasp Sparrow’s Tail, Parting the Wild Horse’s Mane, Step Forward, Parry, Block, and Punch – seven linked strikes hit Xiao Jian before he could react, sending him flying backward.

Yang Tong’s strike easily exceeded three hundred kilograms. It wasn’t gentle.

Xiao Jian landed face-first on the mat, groggy and disoriented.

“1, 2, 3, 4…” The referee began the Miao count.

Only at “5” did Xiao Jian snap back to awareness. He regulated his breath swiftly and scrambled to his feet.

“Hah, good fist technique!” Xiao Jian recollected Yang Tong’s moves and shouted in praise.

“Too kind,” Yang Tong replied, settling into the Taiji opening posture with a faint smile. “Again?”

“Bring it!” Xiao Jian surged forward, fists whirling.

Their fists and palms collided, locking them into a frantic stalemate.

Xiao Jian felt like he’d sunk into quicksand. Every move felt awkward, forced, almost involuntary. He strained to control his center of gravity, swinging his fists with careful precision. Yet nothing changed. He couldn’t even manage to pull back and disengage.

“Excellent technique indeed! Watch this!” Trapped and unable to retreat, Xiao Jian had no choice but to abruptly change his style.

This time, he unleashed Taiji Fist himself, imitating the movements broadly.

Yang Tong felt no shock this time. Taiji Fist was, after all, easier to mimic superficially than the Wind Wolf Fist. But without its core secrets, this style was just a simplified set of health exercises, possessing minimal combat power. Master its secrets, however, and not only did its health benefits soar, stabilizing bodily functions, but it also awakened its uniquely potent lethality.

Xiao Jian’s form-only Taiji Fist was riddled with openings. Yang Tong seized his chance: a ‘Closing Pose’ (Seal and Close) blocked Xiao Jian’s escape route, followed immediately by a ‘Step Forward, Parry, Block, and Punch’ driven by the essence of ‘Press, Push, Lean’. Powerful force blasted into Xiao Jian’s chest, leaving him winded.

Yang Tong wasn’t done. He closed in – Brush Knee and Twist Step, Play the Lute, Step Forward Parry Block Punch, Embrace Tiger Return to Mountain – crashing the same sequence three times into Xiao Jian’s chest, targeting the same vulnerable area. Force might end, but intention flows unbroken; mind leads without force. Taiji cycles seamlessly, never severing the connection.

Finally, acknowledging this was just a match, Yang Tong used a ‘Press’ motion, launching Xiao Jian clean off his feet and across the mat.

This was control: the rhythm of the fight. From the moment he used Wind Wolf Fist, Yang Tong had been setting this up, dictating the battle’s tempo. Xiao Jian, confident in copying others’ styles to turn them against them, was maneuvered into playing along. Yang Tong exploited this, letting him imitate, shackling Xiao Jian and stifling his true strength. Ten-tenths of his power couldn’t surface; at best, five or six parts emerged, maybe even less.

The impact was devastating. Even with his leather armor absorbing much of the force, Xiao Jian couldn’t brush it off. The referee’s count began. Semi-conscious, Xiao Jian wanted to rise but found his body unresponsive.

“9! 10! Victory to Yang Tong!” declared the referee.

School medics rushed over. After a careful check, one nodded. “No major issues. Internal organs are bruised, cognition impaired slightly.” They signaled for Xiao Jian to be helped away.

Within the Huaxia Chinese martial arts system, Taiji Fist was classified as an internal style. It might lack the explosive fury of Wing Chun’s inch power, but the penetrating nature of its force was still formidable.

This was arguably the first time Yang Tong had appeared so dominant. No probing, no feeling out – he executed a planned strategy controlling the rhythm, culminating in decisively flooring his opponent.

Feng Xiaobo watched Yang Tong step down. “Yang Tong, that was impressive! Took Xiaojian down in no time.”

“Luck played a part,” Yang Tong answered honestly. “He wasn’t at full strength. Beating him otherwise would have been tough.” Xiao Jian’s amplifying fist style, whatever it was, seemed superior to Wind Wolf Fist; his true power was not to be underestimated.

“Hurry,” Feng Xiaobo urged, pulling Yang Tong towards Stage Two. “We need to see Di Xuanluo versus Zheng Meimei. Whichever wins faces you next.”

On the VIP platform, several senior teachers chatted with the principal.

“Principal Long, that youngster Yang Tong shows real promise.”

“Mmm. Fist skill is one thing. The key is that kid knows how to use his head. Out in the wilds, facing Savage Beasts, that’s crucial.”

“His grasp of martial principles is deepening.”

“Plus, that fist art he employed… truly astonishing!”

Principal Long smiled faintly. He’d noticed this seedling Yang Tong already – definitely exceptional. The sealed transcript in his office further confirmed it.

“Well,” Principal Long spoke seriously, “since they’re good seedlings, nurture them properly. Next year, he moves to First-Year Class One of the Middle Division. See that you instruct them diligently then. Don’t waste such potential.”

“Principal, rest assured,” one teacher responded pragmatically. “Wasting them? We wouldn’t dream of it. Turning talents into skilled martial artists brings merit. Good for them, good for us – rewards follow.” The others nodded in agreement.

In the Royal Feather Kingdom, indeed across the entire continent, an able teacher held immense prestige, particularly the outstanding ones. They nurtured the very core strength of the nation, shaping the continent’s foundation. More talent meant deeper, unquestionably stronger, reserves of power.