162 Gifting a "Short Blade"

"You can tell right away that you're an outsider. Let me tell you, don't go spreading this around."

The young attendant cast a stealthy glance at his surroundings. They hadn't reached the bathhouse yet, standing only in the changing room adjacent to it. Satisfied that no one was around, he lowered his voice.

"Those two guys—their families are from that dark background, just trying to go legit now."

The attendant pointed to the black fabric of his trousers, gestured upward with his finger after pointing at his pants, and then continued:

"Don't let the fact that one of them was just bullying the other fool you; neither of them is anything good. Their families are all in construction, forced demolitions, property management, and bars.

"That white-haired one, I heard he once beat someone to death and even set fire to somebody's house just to force them to move out.

"As for the yellow-haired one, he runs bars and other entertainment venues. God knows how many women he's ruined. Bah! Anyway, neither of them is worth a damn.

"Forget it, I won't say anymore. You go ahead and take your bath. Just put your belongings in the locker. I'll be right downstairs—if you need anything, just call me. It looks like they're done arguing, and I need to get someone to clean up.

"Right, just don't provoke them if you see them. Best to stay well out of their way."

Seeming to realize he had said too much, the attendant spat out a curse. Then, fearing that Du Ruo might get scared and demand a refund, he hurried away.

"Of all the ridiculous luck to run into this."

Du Ruo muttered under his breath, not paying it much mind. He didn't bother asking why nobody intervened; things like this certainly didn't happen overnight, and since the perpetrators were still around, there had to be a reason.

None of this had anything to do with Du Ruo, however. Locking all his belongings in the locker, he put on a bathrobe and walked into the bathhouse, deciding to have a good soak first. Though he wasn't entirely used to being stark naked, he had kept his briefs on.

Stepping into the bathhouse, he found quite a few people already soaking in the pools. Ignoring the water temperatures, Du Ruo picked the nearest empty pool, stepped inside, and began to soak in blissful comfort.

And truth be told, after spending so much time up in the mountains where he could at best wash up by a riverbank, sinking into hot water felt indescribably wonderful.

Before long, Du Ruo grew pleasantly drowsy. He couldn't help leaning against the edge of the pool, squinting his eyes to rest his mind.

Footsteps sounded from behind him, but Du Ruo didn't care; people coming and going in a public bathhouse was completely normal.

"Hey, you. Move to another pool."

Just as Du Ruo was enjoying himself, a voice rang out from behind his head. The tone was thoroughly unpleasant, bossy, and overbearing.

"Hm?"

Recognizing the voice as that of the yellow-haired punk, Du Ruo opened his eyes and turned his head to look.

First, he caught sight of a pair of hairy legs, and as his gaze traveled upward, the corners of his mouth twitched involuntarily. He instinctively looked away and shifted his body slightly to the side.

The main reason was that the punk was standing behind him with a swaggering posture—and quite literally dangling right there—looking down at him from above, which made Du Ruo deeply uncomfortable.

"Go to another tub. I don't like soaking with men."

The punk's expression was rather ugly, and seeing that Du Ruo had merely shifted aside instead of leaving, he looked thoroughly displeased.

"Heh, got the short end of the stick just now, so you're coming here to flex your presence?"

Du Ruo glanced around the room and noticed that the other pools were occupied as well. Too lazy to move, he leaned back lazily against the edge of the pool and said casually, making it clear he was even less fond of soaking alongside others.

"You... are you tired of living, damn it? Do you know who I am?"

The punk's expression darkened further as he practically gritted out the words.

"What? You gonna hit me? With that scrawny little build of yours, hehe."

Realizing by this point that a peaceful bath was out of the question, Du Ruo simply stood up in the pool, stepped out onto the tiled floor, and began tightening his relaxed muscles as he spoke.

In a single instant, his previously somewhat loose and slack physique transformed entirely. He looked like a human-shaped beast of prey; from his toes to his neck, his entire body was corded with dense muscle fibers, radiating an overwhelming sense of explosive power.

"You—you! Don't think being able to fight means anything. What the hell is the use of being able to fight these days? Nowadays, it's all about money and power. If you dare lay a hand on me, you'd better watch out—you won't make it out of here alive."

The punk involuntarily took a step back while still trying to warn Du Ruo.

"Oh? Are you very rich? It just so happens I'm short on cash. How about we make a deal?"

Du Ruo seemed suddenly interested. Relaxing his muscles, he reverted to his ordinary, unassuming look. Initially, he had merely found the two men repulsive without harboring any other intentions, but since this punk had actively sought him out to cause trouble, Du Ruo decided he wouldn't hold back.

"What kind of deal?"

The punk's tone remained unfriendly, the question slipping out of him instinctively. Glancing at Du Ruo's stubble and messy hair, he was already secretly calculating whether he should call for backup later to teach this guy a lesson.

"Ten thousand in cash, and I'll teach you a move. How about that? Forgot to introduce myself—my name is Yang Guangzhou, from Foshan, seventh-generation descendant of Wing Chun."

Du Ruo spouted total nonsense with a straight face, adding a genuine Southern accent and deliberately flavoring his Mandarin with a Cantonese twist.

Simultaneously, his feet dropped into a textbook pigeon-toed stance, and his hands whipped out a standard Wing Chun vertical punch, halting right in front of the punk's face. The force of the strike stirred up the punk's hair, bearing stark witness to the speed and power behind Du Ruo's punch.

"Tch~ Like I said, what use is being able to fight? How long would it take to practice a punch like yours? Can it stop a knife or a bullet?"

The punk wore a look of utter disdain. Du Ruo's martial display had startled him briefly, but that was all. It wasn't like he hadn't watched television; he knew practicing martial arts required enduring hardship. Given his social standing, if he had to slave away bitterly practicing martial arts, how would he ever spend all the money his family made?

"There are crash courses, you know. I can make you powerful after just one day of practice, strong enough to kill a man with a single punch. How about it, want to learn? If I weren't just traveling through here and happened to be short on cash, I wouldn't even bother teaching you."

Du Ruo continued his gradual enticement. As he spoke, he draped his bathrobe over his shoulders and started walking toward the changing room. Whether the punk followed or not, he had no intention of lingering here much longer.

"One day? You're not lying to me?"

Clearly tempted, the punk followed Du Ruo toward the changing room. Truth be told, regardless of a man's background or status, there is always an innate yearning and pursuit of martial prowess—even former richest men still toyed with practicing Tai Chi.

"Why would I lie about this? If you think it's useless, you just don't pay me, right? Besides, isn't a move like this worth ten thousand?"

Du Ruo took his backpack out of the locker. As he changed his clothes, he paused, thought better of it, and put his tattered clothes back on. Finishing his thought, he shaped his right hand into a palm and thrust it casually toward the metal door of the storage locker, executing a Wing Chun thrusting hand strike.

"Bang!"

The locker's metal door—neither exceptionally thin nor thick—was pierced straight through by Du Ruo's strike, leaving a massive hole. Executing the move with utter nonchalance, Du Ruo withdrew his hand and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

"If you don't want to learn, forget it. I can't be bothered to teach you anyway."

Seeing the punk frozen in place, Du Ruo knew the bait had been taken, so he turned and walked away.

"I'll learn, I'll learn! Ten thousand is fine, I'll give you fifty thousand. Just wait for me, let me get dressed."

Recovering his wits, the punk swallowed hard as he stared at the hole in the metal door. Then, looking at Du Ruo's ragged appearance, he instantly convinced himself he had run into a true hidden master. He quickly called out to Du Ruo, swiped his wristband to unlock a neighboring locker, and rapidly got dressed.

"Let's go, Brother Yang, let's change location."

Dressed and ready, the punk led Du Ruo out of the bathhouse and straight to a rugged off-road vehicle.

Without asking any questions, Du Ruo followed right behind him and climbed into the passenger seat, immediately closing his eyes to rest regardless of where the punk was taking him.

"Brother Yang, we're here. This is one of my properties. There's a gym inside, which is perfect for practicing boxing."

Parking the car, the punk turned to address Du Ruo in the passenger seat.

"Where's the money? You promised fifty thousand, give me half upfront first. Once I see the money, I'll teach you."

Staring at the luxurious villa before him, Du Ruo made no move to get out of the car. He lounged lazily in his seat, striking the pose of a man who wouldn't budge an inch without cash in hand.

"Relax, I won't short you. Here's ten thousand, take this first. If it works, there'll be plenty more where that came from, but if you're trying to con me..."

The punk popped open the vehicle's glove compartment, pulled out a thick stack of cash, and handed it directly to Du Ruo. Then he stepped out of the car first and strode toward the villa.

Catching the money, Du Ruo flicked through the three thick bundles of bills and stuffed them into his backpack before stepping out of the vehicle himself.

The villa was truly luxurious and remarkably spacious. The moment they stepped inside, Du Ruo spotted a woman's intimate garment discarded on the floor—clearly, this was one of the punk's personal trysting pads.

"This is the gym. You said you could teach me in a day, so let's start."

Leading Du Ruo into the gym, the punk stood off to the side, folding his arms as he eyed him.

"Tch tlh, the lifestyle of the rich really is something to envy."

With a brief exclamation, Du Ruo looked around. The equipment here was quite complete, with a boxing dummy positioned in the corner. Walking over, Du Ruo dragged the leather dummy out with one hand, faced it, and began his explanation to the punk:

"First of all, I need to tell you this: if you want a crash course and results in a short time, you have no choice but to strike vulnerable parts of the human body. Striking these areas can be fatal, and you need to understand that."

"Duh! If I just wanted to beat people up randomly, I wouldn't need to learn from you."

The punk curled his lip in disdain, scoffing dismissively at Du Ruo's words.

"Alright then. Look here: on both sides of a human neck, there is a lethal spot. You've seen movies—strike right here and a person passes out. This is called the carotid sinus. The blood vessels here are fragile and located right over the major artery. Hit it with force, and it causes dizziness; in severe cases, it can kill someone outright."

Du Ruo poked two fingers firmly against the carotid sinus area of the dummy's neck. Instantly, the leather neck tore open, leaving two distinct puncture holes.

"Right, and then what? How do you use your fist?"

Seeing that Du Ruo's explanation had logic and substance to it, the punk dropped his crossed arms, listened with rapt attention, and even prompted for more.

"The Wing Chun thrusting hand uses fingers to jab people, but honestly, that posture isn't conducive to generating real power. We only pull it off because we've trained for a very long time. If an ordinary person tries to jab someone like that, they'll just break their own fingers, because fingers aren't as hard as bone."

Du Ruo demonstrated the Wing Chun thrusting hand posture as he spoke. Having witnessed its destructive power earlier, the punk nodded repeatedly.

"So, what an ordinary person needs to do is make a fist, then press the thumb against the index finger so that the knuckle of the index finger juts out. This is called the 'Phoenix Eye Fist'."

Du Ruo demonstrated the form with his hand, forming a textbook Wing Chun Phoenix Eye Fist.

Ordinarily, the Wing Chun Phoenix Eye Fist was used to strike the back of the hand, the arms, or joint areas, but now Du Ruo was using it to teach the punk how to strike the carotid sinus.

"Even so, it doesn't feel like you can put any power into it."

Mimicking Du Ruo's posture with a Phoenix Eye Fist, the punk threw a punch toward the neck of the dummy where Du Ruo had just poked.

He found the punch felt thoroughly awkward; he couldn't throw it smoothly, nor did the punch carry any force.

"Like I told you, this kind of stabbing palm and the punch you just threw don't conform to normal human biomechanics. Without prolonged training, a punch thrown like that won't have any strength behind it."

Du Ruo shook his head with a smile. Practicing martial arts was inherently uncomfortable; mastering it required repeating those awkward postures over and over until they felt natural and packed a lethal punch.

"Then what do we do?" the punk asked.

"Simple. You start by practicing with a comfortable angle. Here, let me reposition this."

With that, Du Ruo forcefully wrenched the dummy's head forward, extending its neck and tilting the head to the side, making it look much like the twitchy, neck-stretching posture the white-haired punk had worn earlier.

"Come on, try throwing a punch from bottom to top now. Make sure you put some force into it, and you can pretend this dummy is the person you hate the most."

Without waiting for the punk to process it, Du Ruo urged him on to test the feel of it.

At this point, Du Ruo's true intentions were finally coming to light.