Chapter 58: A Way Out

The sky was growing light by the time Fang Jing returned home. All the streetlights had turned off. As he took off his shoes, he realized his mother Motoko must have come back.

His mother had come home from her night shift and gone straight to sleep. He entered quietly, opened the refrigerator, and put some instant food in the microwave to heat up. He also took out a two-liter carton of milk and began drinking.

“The money I got in advance from Hatakena Gensai at Kyogado is almost all spent. I need to find a way to get more money soon…”

Over the past period, to replenish his body’s needs, Fang Jing had spent the remaining money on large amounts of sports supplements, including protein powder, fish oil, creatine, amino acids, and multivitamin pills.

Thanks to the sports supplements, his overly intense hunger had eased a bit.

From an ordinary person’s perspective, his current appetite was still at a big eater’s level. But compared to his abnormal appetite before, it was now within a range that ordinary people could accept.

However, sports supplements were extremely expensive. Without enough money to back him up, the spending was clearly hard to handle.

Wu Long High School forbade students from taking part-time jobs outside. Besides, most part-time jobs would take up the time he needed for martial arts training.

The best option would be to find a job that allowed him to practice martial arts while earning money.

“Becoming a professional fighter might be one way to make money, but Mother Motoko probably wouldn’t support it. Also, I’m not really interested in competing…”

Making money really wasn’t easy for a high school student.

“Although the apartment can provide some peace for now, this kind of place connected to the supernatural—I still need to find a way to move out. But without money, I can’t do anything…”

Yes, without money, nothing could be done. For people living in the real world, the scariest thing in the world wasn’t some far-off evil spirit or fierce ghost. It was being utterly, completely broke.

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“Thud!”

A dull sound rang out as fist and palm collided.

Fang Jing didn’t speak, but a fanatical look appeared on his face. Pushing off with his feet, he shifted into a bow stance, leaning his whole body forward and driving a short elbow strike toward Sakaki Tetsuhei’s right rib area.

Sakaki Tetsuhei looked slightly startled, but he reacted swiftly, turning his palm upward to block Fang Jing’s attack.

But Fang Jing quickly changed his move. As soon as his foot landed, his center of gravity shifted backward. Advancing and retreating in rhythm, he cleverly channeled force through his elbow, making his whole arm snap like a whip.

Sakaki Tetsuhei gave a low shout and deflected the whip-hand with a slashing palm strike.

They moved back and forth, constantly shifting, almost crowding each other to the edge of the rooftop.

Sakaki Tetsuhei noticed the unprotected roof edge behind him and knew he couldn’t retreat further. He no longer held back.

“Water Coil!”

He recited it silently in his heart as he began to counterattack. Using the Torrent Skill, he channeled energy throughout his body. As his fists and palms flowed through changes, his whole form seemed to transform into flowing water.

Come on!

In a flash, Fang Jing charged forward at the same speed, his body rising and falling in waves, his movements exactly matching Sakaki Tetsuhei’s.

Thud, thud, thud, thud!

Fist met fist, palm struck palm. Under the savage impact of their limbs, dull thuds burst out repeatedly.

Whoosh!

Their figures abruptly separated. Each shifted footwork, tracing arcs as they moved. The “Water Coil” shifted into “Tidal Surge,” and then they turned back into two crashing currents, locked in fierce combat again.

“Stacking Waves!”

Both shouted at the same time, unleashing the Torrential Rush’s strongest strike. Because each had tightly matched the other’s changes, Fang Jing and Sakaki Tetsuhei stopped moving around. Instead, they planted their feet firmly and began striking with relentless palm techniques, facing each other head-on.

For an instant, they looked like eight-armed monsters, their hand movements leaving afterimages. Palm shadows and fist strikes rose like waves piling upon waves.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

Their punches and kicks were heavy and powerful. As they exchanged blows, they both felt their fingers go numb and their bodies tremble slightly.

After several dozen seconds of intense exchange, Fang Jing and Sakaki Tetsuhei both pushed off with their toes, leaping backward to create distance.

“I’m old! I’m old! In a straight battle of stamina, I’m definitely no match for you…”

Sakaki Tetsuhei let out a long breath. Nishizuka’s progress was really too fast—he had even learned Torrential Rush. What could he teach him next…

“You flatter me, Teacher. To be honest, my basics still aren’t solid enough. I feel like both my arms have gone numb.”

He raised his hands. After training day and night without rest over this period, even his fingers had become unusually strong. The backs of his hands were covered with a layer of calluses from punching.

“Not bad at all. At your age, I might not have had such a solid foundation. And your talent is good too…”

Sakaki Tetsuhei thought for a moment, then decided to ask him seriously.

“Nishizuka, what is your real goal in learning martial arts? Do you want to become a fighter like Xuan Zao in the future?”

“No, I just genuinely enjoy learning martial arts. More importantly… I really want to become stronger.”

“Even if it’s for becoming stronger, there should be a short-term goal!”

Sakaki Tetsuhei smiled slightly. “Don’t you want to become a professional-level competitor? With your skill level, making money wouldn’t be too hard. You might even have the chance to go abroad and join higher-level competitions.”

“I really haven’t thought about that…”

Fang Jing shook his head; he wasn’t interested in those things.

“Someone like me, a martial artist, only makes a living thanks to this hobby. For someone as young as you to throw yourself into it completely isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but making a stable life out of it in the future could be difficult… Martial arts are ultimately a dangerous skill. That it can become a competitive sport isn’t a bad thing.”

Sakaki Tetsuhei spoke half in reflection. “For most people who study martial arts seriously, the brightest path is still to join competitive matches… At least as a professional competitor, you gain some social standing. Internationally popular star-level fighters earn hefty appearance fees, prize money, and shares. We’re also in a period where the sport is relatively popular. If you focus on this direction, it could be a good choice.”

“Teacher, your suggestion is good, but I always feel that using the martial arts I’ve worked so hard to learn for this purpose is a bit disappointing.”

Fang Jing gave a strained smile, a touch of bitterness in his expression. He looked at his own palm, then clenched it into a fist… Honestly, martial artists in this era really feel a bit helpless. The age of cold weapons ended long ago. No matter how powerful your fist technique, it can’t stop a bullet—martial arts are a dangerous skill, full of techniques meant for killing in combat.

Martial arts and combat, from their very origins, weren’t born for health or fitness. They were techniques created for killing. But in times of peace, these things aren’t very useful—this is the most frustrating part of being a martial artist.

“Hahaha, don’t think about those problems… To be honest, Nishizuka, you’re not bad-looking. If you join a professional club later and get some commercial packaging, it’s not impossible for you to become a star-level professional athlete. More importantly, you’ll have a large number of female fans…”

He laughed and patted Fang Jing’s shoulder, then calmly stated a fact that is unusually cruel for most people.

“Looking at all my years of experience—people, one hundred percent, rely on their face.”

Fang Jing rolled his eyes at that.

Come on! Am I the kind of person who would rely on my looks to get by?