112 Another Check

This fight could more accurately be described as a sparring match. After all, Du Ruo’s intent was merely to verify his skills, not to go all out. Had he truly unleashed his full strength, he wouldn’t have given his opponent a chance to display so many moves. He would have simply overpowered the elder with his mighty fists, raining down blows relentlessly until his opponent was dead. Even if the elder had mastered both internal and external cultivation, Du Ruo’s full-force assault could shatter his innards.

Despite this, Du Ruo gained much from the sparring, particularly confirming that the Bronze Man Technique was indeed highly effective against both soft and hard qigong styles. Moreover, he conceived a new method of attack—perhaps next time he could try combining divine force with sound. If he could intimidate his enemy even for half a second, that would be enough to unleash further techniques.

“This kind of method must be at the very core of Tibetan martial arts,” Du Ruo thought silently. This was also why he had refrained from asking to learn it outright just now—some things were better left unspoken so as not to sever the rare chance of fate.

“Such opponents are regrettably too few,” Du Ruo sighed after digesting his recent gains.

“Perhaps the master felt the same way, which is why he agreed to spar with you,” Li Qiyao, driving the car, replied to Du Ruo’s reflection.

“Du Ruo, how does your level compare to the top ten masters from the Republic era that my grandfather often talks about? You and the old man just now seemed incredibly powerful. If you’re still not as good as them, they must have been extraordinary,” Xiang Yuanyuan asked curiously. Though her grandfather didn’t practice martial arts himself, he often mingled with such experts and would occasionally wax poetic about their prowess when in good spirits.

However, since she had never seen such masters in person, she lacked a concrete understanding. Du Ruo’s display provided her with a clearer picture, though as a layperson, she could only judge by the shattered floor tiles and the sounds of the strikes.

“Hard to say—the time span is too long, and many of those masters earned their reputation through real combat. The top ten changed over time, and later rankings were not solely based on martial skill but also contributions and fame. But surely, those who gained renown in that era must have been exceptional,” Du Ruo answered cautiously. In the past, he might have dared to claim he was on par, but now he was more humble. Times had changed; the martial artists of that era possessed extraordinary intuition and willpower, qualities that peace-time practitioners simply could not cultivate.

The car was filled with their lively discussion, while the vehicle driven by Wu Jing’s assistant was relatively quiet.

Qiangzi and the other celebrity could only exclaim internally, “Wow!” “Incredible!” “Are they even human?” in awe.

Wu Jing, however, was different. Being immersed in this world, he could perceive far more. Even just the initial probing between Du Ruo and the lama astonished him.

When their palms and backs of hands collided, the sound was not a crisp snap but a deep, hollow thud akin to wooden sticks striking.

This alone demonstrated that their fundamental skills were on an entirely different level from his own.

“Jing Ge, you’re a martial artist too, how did their strength compare to yours?” the celebrity asked Wu Jing, though the question was more of a compliment than genuine inquiry.

“Don’t say that—I wouldn’t dare call myself a martial artist. I’m just an amateur, good enough for performances, but compared to true masters, I’m far behind,” Wu Jing replied, shaking his head emphatically.

No joke—Du Ruo’s final punch still replayed vividly in his mind. He even suspected it might wake him up from his dreams.

He knew himself well: he had trained martial arts since childhood, and had solid fundamentals, but never learned fighting techniques. By the time he was seventeen or eighteen, he had switched focus to forms practice, and over the years, he had no idea how much he had let it slide.

If he had been boasting, that would be one thing, but under today’s circumstances, if he dared to admit it, his senior masters in the sect would surely give him a thorough scolding.

“Hey, Qiangzi, aren’t you familiar with this Boss Du? Why do you call him Boss Du? Is he a businessman? Is he local? What style of martial arts does he practice?” Wu Jing suddenly remembered Qiangzi sitting beside him and asked, hoping to glean more information about Du Ruo.

“I’m not really close to Boss Du. He’s not from here...” Qiangzi was conversing with a celebrity up close for the first time, so he spoke frankly, though he didn’t know much about Du Ruo. Despite recounting all their interactions, the useful information was limited.

“Is he the innkeeper at the foot of Huangshan in Anhui Province?” Wu Jing memorized the key details silently and nodded. By then, the two cars had arrived one after the other in front of Qiangzi’s ranch house.

Du Ruo, Xiang Yuanyuan, and the others got out without taking charge—they were not the hosts. Though they knew Wu Jing and the celebrity had come for Qiangzi, they did not initiate conversation.

Only after sitting in the living room did Qiangzi pour milk tea.

“Boss Du, you really helped me out today. If not for your skillful hands, my foot wouldn’t have healed so quickly. I have no idea how much work would have been delayed. This is just a small token of appreciation—please don’t refuse it,” the injured celebrity spoke first, handing Du Ruo a thin envelope with sincere gratitude.

“Alright, I won’t be polite then. No need for thanks; fate brings people together,” Du Ruo smiled as he accepted the envelope. He naturally would not refuse money offered at his doorstep.

“Master Du, I actually know some basics of martial arts. Do you still accept disciples?” Wu Jing asked, noticing Du Ruo’s approachable demeanor.

“Uh...” Du Ruo looked at Wu Jing, momentarily at a loss for how to respond. He sized him up quietly. Meanwhile, Qiangzi’s eyes lit up at the mention of discipleship, as if ready to become a student the moment Du Ruo said yes.

“Master Du, don’t misunderstand. It’s not me who wants to apprentice, it’s my child. I’ve taught him some basic martial arts, but if you accept disciples, I’ll have him formally apprentice under you. Tuition and fees are no problem,” Wu Jing blushed. To be honest, he himself wanted to become a disciple, but seeing Du Ruo’s expression, he knew it was hopeless, so he quickly shifted the request to his child.

“Oh, you scared me. Sorry, but I don’t take disciples,” Du Ruo joked, then shook his head. If he wanted disciples, would he be out doing dirty work like this? At least for now, that was the case.

“Heh, that’s a shame. But if there’s future cooperation where I need your guidance, or situations like today where we need your help, can we count on you?” Wu Jing gradually lowered his requests.

“That’s not impossible,” Du Ruo glanced at the envelope on the table but neither accepted nor declined outright.

“Could I have your contact information? If I visit Huangshan again, maybe I can drop by,” Wu Jing finally revealed his true purpose and pulled out his phone.

“Sure, why not? Having contact info for celebrities like you is something others would envy,” Du Ruo replied.

They chatted for a while. Wu Jing kept a low profile and didn’t bring up martial arts, and Du Ruo was relaxed in return, even introducing Xiang Yuanyuan and explaining the Xiang family medicinal wine.

Only when Wu Jing and the unnamed celebrity, accompanied by their assistant, took their leave to catch a flight from Zhaosu did the conversation end.

“Wow, Boss Du, you were amazing today...” After seeing them off, Qiangzi immediately showered Du Ruo with praise, eyes shining with admiration.

“Alright, stop flattering me. By the way, did you sell that medicinal wine to them today?” Du Ruo asked, suddenly recalling the strong scent of the wine on the celebrity’s body. It couldn’t have been only from the small amount Du Ruo had applied after treating the injury. He opened the envelope and smiled upon seeing the check inside.

“Yeah, mainly thanks to the director’s help. Also... Boss Du, I’ll transfer the money to you,” Qiangzi said sheepishly, glancing nervously at Du Ruo, worried he might be displeased.

“No worries. It’s sold; you keep the money. I’ll send you another bottle when I get back. That’s settled. It’s late—get some rest. Tomorrow, you have to take me horse riding,” Du Ruo patted Qiangzi’s shoulder, ending the topic, while inwardly reflecting:

“Ten thousand yuan for one move—that’s easy money. Celebrities really have deep pockets. Indeed, only dirty jobs like killing or arson require no skill and pay the least.”

Du Ruo carefully put away the company check, planning to deposit it at the bank soon. But given the money, he didn’t mind the trouble.

“I’m going to sleep, really tired,” Xiang Yuanyuan yawned, her previous excitement at meeting a celebrity fading. Seeing Du Ruo was just an ordinary person, and the celebrity not as distant as imagined, she lost interest in asking for autographs. After the visitors left, she dragged Li Qiyao to wash up and sleep.

...

Early the next morning, Du Ruo and Qiangzi practiced Tai Chi in the courtyard. Xiang Yuanyuan idly tossed a blade of grass nearby, while Li Qiyao rummaged through her suitcase, preparing things to take along.

“Clip-clop, clip-clop—” The sound of horse hooves on the grass drew Xiang Yuanyuan’s attention. She perked up and ran toward the yard’s entrance.