Su Jie’s training was extremely intense, but there were no slamming blows or long howls. He simply moved with lightning speed, dodging left and right, then unleashing a single punch—a Hoe Strike punch. His speed was incredibly fast, yet when he paused, it seemed very slow.

Moving like lightning, still as a mountain.

After his battle with Feng Hengyi, he benefited greatly. Although they were enemies, Su Jie still admired his straight punch.

Simple, effective, without any frills, straight and direct, using the shortest and fastest distance to kill and destroy everything.

Boxing is a simple sport, but it still has three types of punches: straight, hook, and parry.

But Feng Hengyi only had the straight punch.

Su Jie pondered what weapon Feng Hengyi’s straight punch should be paired with for assassination to truly make him invincible.

“A dagger? That doesn’t seem to fit the pattern of a straight punch either, because a dagger has a sharp edge and can be used to slash left and right.” Su Jie practiced, his mind racing. He immediately thought of what weapon Feng Hengyi should use. “It should be a military dagger. If he uses a military dagger off the stage, and I use a dagger, I’m definitely no match for him. I need to find a way to counter that. Right, and there’s Liu Long’s grip technique…”

After practicing the “Hoe Strike” technique for about an hour, Su Jie changed his practice method, slowing down and beginning to practice the grip technique.

The punch that Liu Long used to defeat Zhang Jinchuan was the oldest Taoist technique, the “grip technique.”

It originated in the Tao Te Ching, which contains the phrase, “When bones are weak and muscles are soft, the grip is firm.”

This is a special Taoist technique. Because infants are born with weak bones and muscles, they are easily invaded by evil spirits. Therefore, they automatically clench their hands, naturally creating a state of undisturbed energy that makes it difficult for evil spirits to invade, thus achieving a state where “poisonous insects do not sting, fierce beasts do not attack, and birds of prey do not seize.”

These are all words from the Tao Te Ching. This Taoist qigong technique seemed to have been lost.

But now it has reappeared in Liu Long, and he’s even using it in combat.

“The Grip Method” was originally a health-preserving technique.

Su Jie had been watching a hundred hours of videos of Odell these past few days and had seen this method in them. Odell highly praised this method. It could strengthen the body, improve concentration, and clear the mind, but he didn’t mention its use in combat.

Liu Long, however, used it in combat. Although it wasn’t fully developed, it already showed his talent.

Su Jie was also pondering whether this method would be even more powerful if used in “Hoe Striking”.

His current advantages over Liu Long were his much stronger mental fortitude, greater technical knowledge, and more comprehensive research. If Liu Long saw those hundred hours of videos, his strength would likely leap forward rapidly.

He raised his hand, chopped downwards, then gently clenched, feeling the airflow squeezed out of his palm. He released it, his palm collapsing, the airflow suddenly gathering—manipulating the airflow like magic.

Practicing, Su Jie gradually entered a state of focus.

Suddenly, as he gently raised his hand, a faint sound of airflow tunneling could be heard in his palm, as if a vortex was drawing in air.

Then he lowered his hand, grabbing and squeezing.

Bang!

It felt like a small balloon was popped, with a faint scent of palm thunder.

The power of the “Hoe Hoe Strike” combined with the “grip technique” was greatly amplified by Su Jie. With continued practice, the power could easily increase several times over.

While it couldn’t compare to the “air pocket phenomenon” of the pistol shrimp, which emitted the surface temperature of the sun in an instant, it greatly benefited the speed, power, momentum, and imposing presence of his fist technique.

Su Jie practiced again and again, completely absorbed, and several hours passed in the blink of an eye.

This “grip technique,” combined with the “Hoe Strike” exercise, consumes an enormous amount of energy, but it also provides a tremendous workout for all the bones and muscles in the body.

Another training method is the 100-meter sprint.

Su Jie isn’t training for it right now, because breaking world records so easily is simply too astonishing. He prefers to practice late at night when it’s quiet.

“My endurance has improved dramatically, and my potential is far from reaching its limit. In the next three to five years, my speed and strength will increase significantly,” Su Jie calculated. “That’s the beauty of the Living Dead realm.”

“Hey, what are you practicing here?”

Just then, someone interrupted Su Jie’s practice.

Su Jie’s movements looked strange to outsiders: squatting, sliding, raising his hand, standing up, digging, squatting again, sliding…

He dug to the left, then to the right, then in front, then behind—digging in all directions.

He looked like a farmer digging in the ground, a stonemason swinging a sledgehammer, a construction worker driving piles, a street dancer, or even a circus performer or magician—definitely not like someone practicing martial arts.

Su Jie stopped and looked at the person who had asked him. 

This person was a very strong student, about 1.9 meters tall, wearing a vest, shorts for martial arts, and red hand wraps.

Behind him was a group of people, all dressed in combat gear, some carrying targets;
clearly, they were there to practice in the gymnasium.

The area Su Jie had chosen was quiet, and the surface was good;
these people seemed to want to train here.

“I’m just practicing casually.” Su Jie stopped practicing. “Are you going to practice here? Are you from the martial arts club?”

“We’re not those useless guys from the martial arts club,” a muscular student spoke up. “We’re from the combat club. What are you practicing here all by yourself? Traditional martial arts? It’s useless. Why don’t you practice modern combat techniques with us? That’s real combat.”

“Excuse me, are you a freshman? You look pretty good.” The leader of the group extended his hand. “My name is Zhang Nanzhou, president of the combat club. Interested in joining?”

“I’m just practicing casually,” Su Jie politely declined.

Seeing that Su Jie wasn’t planning to join, Zhang Nanzhou didn’t say anything, but turned to the club members and said, “Everyone, start practicing! Today we’ll practice with moving targets, then sparring. Next month we’ll sign up for the Shanhe Cup preliminaries. We want those professional clubs to know that our Q University combat club can also be among the top in the country.”

Su Jie watched them begin training and voluntarily stepped aside. For a moment, the sounds of striking the targets and the roars of kicks and punches were captivating.

“These combat club members are really skilled,” Su Jie remarked, observing their professional target practice and handling, which even surpassed that of many professional club athletes.

However, Q University students are the elite among millions of students nationwide. These combat club members were clearly athletic students, their physical abilities directly comparable to national-level athletes;
many could enter the national team before graduation.

“Teacher Liu Long will be coming over to give us some guidance later. Think about what questions you want to ask him,” Jiang Nanzhou raised his voice slightly. “Teacher Liu Long charges over 100,000 yuan per lesson at other clubs, but he’ll be free at Q University. Don’t miss this opportunity to ask him questions.”

Su Jie watched for a while, intending to leave and find another place to practice, but hearing that Liu Long was coming to instruct him piqued his interest.

Being a Q University student has this advantage;
any famous person coming here will show ample goodwill.

During practice, some students suddenly ran over and whispered to the club president, Jiang Nanzhou, “President, the martial arts club is here. According to the rules, they’re the ones who should be practicing here today. What should we do?”

“Tell them to leave,” Jiang Nanzhou said. “We have other things to do today.”

“Jiang Nanzhou, what’s going on with your fighting club? We agreed that you train here on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays, and our martial arts club will take over on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Today is Thursday, and you’re still occupying our space. Isn’t that going too far?”

A group of students approached, led by what appeared to be the martial arts club president.

They were all dressed in identical white cotton-linen/classic suits, printed with the Q University Martial Arts Club logo, with black belts. It was a combination of classic short-sleeved Hanfu and modern design, making them incredibly handsome and stylish, surpassing even the uniforms of karate and taekwondo.

Su Jie’s eyes lit up slightly. He felt that this clothing design was indeed quite good;
young people, regardless of gender, looked dashing and stylish in it. Compared to the muscular men in vests and shorts of the fighting club, the martial arts club exuded a more conventional vibe.

Of course, this outfit was inappropriate for the ring.

It would be best to go shirtless, with only tight shorts covering one’s body, to avoid being grabbed and torn.

“Fang Hong, your martial arts club is all show and no substance, always putting on airs. We’re having an event here today, so don’t cause trouble. Fighting King Liu Long is coming to give a demonstration. This area in the gym will be our fighting club’s permanent training ground from now on. Look at these punching bags and all the training equipment;
you won’t use them, so there’s no need to hogging the space.” One of the fighting club members spoke rudely.

“Your martial arts club mainly practices routines;
you can practice anywhere. Why insist on this place?” The fighting club president, Jiang Nanzhou, wasn’t as aggressive, but his message was clear: he was determined to take this spot.

The sports stadium was surrounded by various exercise equipment, making it an ideal location for the martial arts club to train.

The two clubs vying for space made Su Jie smile;
it reminded him of middle-aged women doing square dancing fighting with Tai Chi masters for territory in a park.

The martial arts club’s president was named Fang Hong. Tan Dashi joined the club, wanting to become president, and challenged Fang Hong to a match, only to lose immediately.

Su Jie glanced at Fang Hong;
his gait was steady, his arms moving with a seemingly relaxed yet firm stance, his back trembling like the tip of a spear vibrating. His entire being was like a flagpole, straight and upright, his martial arts foundation remarkably strong and powerful.

“No wonder Tan Dashi lost to him,” Su Jie nodded.

“Boss, so you’re here!” Tan Dashi, Lin Tang, and Wang Shun also rushed in, seeing Su Jie and quickly approaching.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep