Praying Mantis Boxing and Karate

“Stop fighting, you guys!”
There was only a tavern separating the standalone houses from Du Ruo's place. The first house past the tavern was where Du Ruo used to live, and just a few dozen meters further was the spot Xiaoling mentioned where the fight was happening. As soon as Du Ruo arrived, he saw a crowd gathered, watching the commotion, with Xiaoling shouting loudly from the sidelines.
“What’s going on?”
Du Ruo hurried to Yang Ling’s side, glancing at the two men fighting in the middle of the crowd. Besides Yang Ling, who was anxiously trying to break up the fight, everyone else seemed to be enjoying the spectacle—some women were even cheering them on.
On one side of the crowd were three men, all in their twenties or thirties. The other side was comprised of two blonde women and a blue-eyed man, clearly foreigners.
Du Ruo recognized both fighters. One was the foreigner, a towering figure at nearly two meters, weighing around two hundred pounds, muscular and robust. Du Ruo remembered them because Yang Ling had asked him yesterday whether foreigners could check in, since there were specific requirements for hosting them, and the guesthouse had the necessary credentials. Du Ruo had even come to see the registration process himself, so the faces stuck in his mind.
The other fighter was also familiar. Yang Ling had mentioned him when he checked in two days ago. What caught Du Ruo’s attention then was the long sword strapped to the man’s back. Yang Ling had asked about it, and the man had shown her. Though it was a metal sword, it was unused and only brought along to look cool in photos on Huangshan Mountain. Yang Ling hadn’t thought much of it—such things were common.
“I don’t really know what happened. Qiangzi came to find me first. After I told him the new place where the boss was staying, I went to the front desk to receive some freshly delivered linens. On my way, I saw them already fighting. Should we call the police, boss?”
Yang Ling gave a brief explanation. Seeing Du Ruo arrive, she seemed reassured, no longer so worried.
“Let’s not call the police yet. I’ll check it out first.”

Du Ruo soothed Yang Ling with a few words and then stepped forward. He’d only glanced at the scene, but it was clear the fight, though intense, hadn’t resulted in any injuries yet. He hesitated to call the police, worried it might cause trouble, so he decided to get to the bottom of things first.
The man with the sword was under thirty, about six feet tall, also well-built, but still a tier below the foreigner in stature.
What intrigued Du Ruo was the man’s footwork—Jade Ring Step, like a nimble monkey—and his hands formed the classic hook shape of Mantis Fist.
His attacks were focused above the foreigner’s neck, aimed at the eyes and face, clearly following the Northern Plum Blossom Mantis Fist routines, with each move stopping just short of causing harm.
Du Ruo believed the man had already won. Several times, his fingers flashed before the foreigner’s eyes, and his wrist struck the foreigner’s cheekbone.
In traditional martial arts, most styles aim for the face to obscure vision or attack the eyes, but the Mantis Fist’s hook hand specifically targets the opponent’s eyes. It was clear the man was holding back.
Mantis Fist's hook hand uses the wrist to strike, known as “tight elbow,” which targets the temple or carotid artery; a solid hit could be fatal or crippling. The man, however, was only hitting the cheekbone, further proof he was restraining himself.
To the onlookers, though, it was a different story. The foreigner was using karate techniques and the powerful strikes of Tongbei Fist, his moves wide and forceful. His size meant each knife-hand chop sent the air whistling, making the other man avoid direct contact, relying on Jade Ring Step to dodge and only counter when possible. When forced to block, he always came off worse.
The man’s strength was inferior, and his moves often involved forbidden techniques—eye gouges, throat strikes, groin kicks. Even the elbow techniques, at which Mantis Fist excels, were limited by the foreigner’s size. Visibly, the man was losing ground.
Du Ruo didn’t intervene, merely folded his arms and watched. The cause was still unclear, and he didn’t want to get involved prematurely. Still, he stayed alert; both fighters were skilled, and if things escalated, a single uncontrolled blow could have serious consequences.
Du Ruo, despite training in traditional martial arts, respected foreign styles. Karate was no joke—the moves were broad and powerful, and with the foreigner’s height and build, a direct hit could easily break bones or worse.
It was also clear the foreigner was familiar with traditional Chinese martial arts. When he used his knife-hand chops, Du Ruo noticed his arms were straight, and his body generated force in the same way as Tongbei Fist. The foreigner’s palms were thick, his arm muscles knotted, evidence of rigorous basic training.

Thus, Du Ruo had reason to believe the foreigner understood his opponent was pulling his punches.
The fight grew fiercer. The foreigner alternated his hands in a series of horizontal knife-hand chops, slashing from right to left, while the other man, gritting his teeth, stopped retreating and dodging, using the Mantis Fist’s Golden Thread Eyebrow Wipe, striking from left to right at the foreigner.
“Damn!”
Du Ruo saw at once this was a mutually destructive strategy. Karate’s horizontal chops targeted the neck, and with both hands alternating, the only way to slash was to spin—spinning increased momentum and helped avoid attacks like groin kicks. The left hand would chop across the neck, and if the opponent retreated or ducked, the right hand followed immediately. But the real danger was the third chop: after the left missed, the right followed, then the body spun and the left hand chopped again, using the spin for added force. This third chop would be devastating.
The three chops came lightning-fast. The usual defense would be to retreat or block directly, but this knife-hand was hard to defend against. With strength, speed, and the Tongbei Fist’s power, a hit to the neck could be fatal; blocking with the arm could result in a broken limb.
The man’s attack was even more ruthless. The Mantis Fist’s Golden Thread Eyebrow Wipe didn’t target the brow—it aimed for the eyes. Practitioners of Northern Plum Blossom Mantis Fist are obsessed with targeting the eyes. This move was aimed directly at the foreigner’s eyes, while his other hand was ready to block the knife-hand.
Du Ruo doubted the man would still hold back once struck. In other words, one would lose a hand, the other an eye, or both would be severely injured. If the man got hit in the neck, he could even be killed.
Du Ruo didn’t waste a second. He powered his hips in the Tiger Form and shot forward. Though the fight had nothing to do with him, this was his guesthouse. If it got shut down because of this incident, who would he turn to for help?