Abundant Martial Arts Virtue

The words had just left his lips.

Suddenly, Wu Xiaode lost control of his body.

—It was as if something had possessed him, and he could only watch helplessly, unable to stop his body from making one movement after another.

He stood alone in the center of the playground, his hands behind his back, displaying a completely different temperament from before.

"I haven't personally taken action in many years. You should consider it a blessing from many past lives to spar with me, and you ought to kneel and thank me."

His voice sounded somewhat different, carrying a tone of age and arrogance.

Li Zheng was taken aback and then burst into laughter, "Good! Good! Good! Arrogant fool, who do you think you are? Watch me pin you to the ground and beat you into a dead dog!"

As he finished speaking, his figure flashed, and he suddenly accelerated, charging at Wu Xiaode with all his might.

With his physique, he could probably knock Wu Xiaode flying directly!

Wu Xiaode's eyes suddenly became as sharp as blades, and he said in a low voice, "Too slow."

Just then, he slightly shifted his stance and threw a punch as fast as lightning.

Thud!

A dull sound.

Li Zheng was hit in the waist by the punch and was blasted dozens of meters away, rolling across the grass.

The field fell silent.

Wu Xiaode maintained his punching stance, his face showing a hint of regret as he said, "You are the weakest I've ever fought."

Li Zheng touched the smooth grass and then felt his own body.

So far.

—But he wasn't hurt!

How was that possible? Or was it just an accident?

He looked around at the crowd of onlookers, clenched his teeth, got up from the grass, and shouted fiercely, "Again!"

He kicked off the ground, his figure flickering as he dashed towards Wu Xiaode.

Wu Xiaode took a firm stance on the spot, his hands shifting from fists to palms.

"Ha!"

Wu Xiaode spun his body, dodged Li Zheng's charge, and slapped him hard on the back.

Li Zheng was sent flying again, hitting the ground and rolling dozens of meters once more.

"Too weak. I could have killed you when I was five," Wu Xiaode sighed.

Li Zheng, who had been lying on the ground, froze when he heard this. He then let out a furious roar, his face contorted as he yelled, "I want you dead! Zhao Ziang, I'll shoot you dead!"

He reached into his chest, searching.

A strange atmosphere quietly enveloped the field.

What he just said—

A gun?

One of the quick-reacting students shouted loudly, "Run!"

More people caught on, panicking, screaming, and fleeing in all directions.

Time slowly passed.

But Li Zheng didn't pull anything out.

"What are you looking for?" asked Wu Xiaode, seemingly composed.

Li Zheng's face gradually turned from furious to pale, his lips trembling, his forehead covered in cold sweat.

"It's you, it has to be you, give it back!" he said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Wu Xiaode responded calmly.

Suddenly, Li Zheng blew a whistle and shouted loudly, "Brothers, help me finish him!"

From behind the crowd, twenty or so tall young men stepped forward in response.

They approached Wu Xiaode, laughing and surrounding him.

"With so many people here, do you dare to take it out? You were so arrogant, now go die!"

A blood-covered Li Zheng roared.

Wu Xiaode squinted at the group of men, his mouth curling into a sneer, his face full of disdain.

Meanwhile, that ancient voice once again echoed in his mind:

"Kid, the gun is in your hands. It's your choice whether to use the gun or your fists."

Wu Xiaode replied without hesitation, "Elder, let's use our fists."

"Why?" the ancient voice asked.

"These people have no grudge against me. Our purpose in fighting is not to kill, but to uphold justice and keep the peace," Wu Xiaode explained.

—Fighting to keep the peace? That's the first I've heard of it.

The ancient voice paused, then asked with a hint of laughter:

"But what if the other party is excessively oppressive?"

"Call the police," Wu Xiaode answered.

"What if you encounter someone who wants to kill your entire family and you don't have time to call the police?" the ancient voice pressed on.

"Use a gun if you have one, a knife if you don't have a gun, and fists if you don't have a knife. Fight until death," Wu Xiaode declared.

"Tsk, a heart as steady as the polestar, adept in moderation, full of martial virtue — kid, if you were given a path on Green Cloud Road, wouldn't you transform into a dragon and ascend to the heavens?" the ancient voice sincerely admired.

As they spoke, the twenty-odd boys had already covered most of the distance, and in less than ten seconds they would surround Wu Xiaode.

"Watch closely," the ancient voice said.

As the voice faded, Wu Xiaode felt his knees bend slightly as he assumed a stance where he stood.

Countless images flashed through Wu Xiaode's mind.

These images were all scenes of martial arts professionals battling enemies, imprinted deeply into Wu Xiaode's memory, never to be forgotten.

When the twenty-odd tall boys charged toward him—

Wu Xiaode saw himself raising his hands, his eyes slightly downcast, his breath suddenly stopping.

The first boy got close and launched a flying kick.

Wu Xiaode's hands turned into blurred shadows, stacked in front of his chest, slamming forward ruthlessly—

An unbelievable scene occurred on the field.

The air distorted momentarily, rushing out from his hands like a rapid stream.

It was like an illusion—

Two golden lines flashed and disappeared along his arms, a faint sound of shattering gold echoing in the void.

The boy was hurled backward, knocking down three to five other boys, tumbling haphazardly to the ground, all of them laying there and screaming like slaughtered pigs.

Wu Xiaode stepped forward, sending every attacker flying as he walked past them.

When he broke through the charge of over twenty people, his hands finally rejoined, palms against each other, interlocked in front of his chest, motionless.

Behind him, all the twenty-something boys lay on the ground, without exception.

The ancient voice spoke again, "Kid, this move, 'Iron Hand Blocks the River,' is the essence of Iron Wire Fist. I used less than half my strength, directing all the force into the air, injuring no one—do you want to learn this move?"

"I do! I do! I do! Elder, please teach it to me. I would be forever grateful," Wu Xiaode said repeatedly.

"Good, today I have held back, not killing a single person, all in consideration of your future. Now, I pass this boxing technique to you, hoping you will look after my descendants in the future."

The ancient voice gradually faded away.

In the void, the black-covered Book of the Dead automatically opened, rows of ice crystal small letters quickly refreshed:

"The body has completed its final sync."

"The Ancestor Spirit has detached from your body and returned to the Spirit Realm."

"You have received the last teachings of the ancient Ancestor Spirit."

"You have begun to master the ancient martial arts, the essence of Iron Wire Sect boxing—"

"Iron Hand Blocks the River."

All the small letters flashed and disappeared.

The next instant.

Wu Xiaode felt himself regain control of his body.

He turned back to look.

He saw Li Zheng's face completely stunned, murmuring in a daze:

"There were twenty-five people... How is it possible... Who could withstand..."

His gaze met Wu Xiaode's, his heart skipped a beat, and he shouted, turning and running toward the edge of the field.