Chapter 2503: Burning the Tower (16)

Xu Tong sized up Sun Gang's punching power and found it wanting. The strikes lacked weight, betraying fundamental flaws in his force generation, and his movements seemed sluggish. Without proper testing equipment, Xu Tong couldn't measure his own punching power precisely, but after sparring sessions, Chen Sigen had estimated it somewhere between 140 and 160 kilograms—not perfectly accurate, but impressive for an amateur middleweight boxer. After this brief exchange, a contemptuous smile tugged at the corner of Xu Tong's mouth.

Seeing Xu Tong retreat, Sun Gang launched into "Rolling Pearl Turning Clouds." His left arm swung upward in a horizontal sweep aimed at the base of Xu Tong's ear. Xu Tong snapped his right arm up, aligning his elbow with his jaw to shield both ear and chin, and blocked the punch cleanly. His left hand immediately unleashed a rapid series of jabs at Sun Gang's eyes and nose.

Under the relentless pressure, Sun Gang retreated a step, his head tilting back instinctively. This was a natural human reaction that only rigorous training could overcome. He reached out with both hands in "Immortal Strokes Top," attempting to deflect Xu Tong's left hand, but grasped at empty air. Traditional martial arts emphasized defeating the enemy with a single decisive strike and lacked awareness of quick retraction. Techniques like stroking, plucking, pushing, and leading all assumed the opponent shared this same limitation. They proved ineffective against boxing's instant-strike-instant-retract rhythm. Compounded by insufficient sparring experience and poor distance sense, Sun Gang repeatedly found his eyes tracking targets his hands couldn't reach. In Xu Tong's daily training, partners held shield pads while constantly varying distance—rushing forward suddenly, then retreating just as fast—drilling the boxer's judgment of striking range and safe distance.

Xu Tong seized the opening. He drew a sharp breath through his nose, drove off his rear right foot, and explosively rotated his waist, hips, and torso toward the front left. His center of gravity shifted to his lead leg as he drove his right arm forward—shoulder, elbow, forearm, and fist aligned in a single devastating line. His left hand pulled back to guard his jaw. The rear-hand power punch rocketed forward, the fist tearing through the air with an audible rush. A fierce light blazed in Xu Tong's eyes. Time to show real technique.

Yun Ting watched the proceedings with cold detachment. Were it not for the old blood feud that made submitting to the Kun people unthinkable, he would have bent the knee to anyone. As a convicted and dismissed Embroidered Uniform Guard officer, he desperately needed a path back to power and a return to the Town pacification. Power was all he craved. In his heart, Wooden Stone Daoist, Xue Tu, and Young Master Liang were merely stepping stones for his ascent. Now that Stone Old Man had offered to introduce him to influential eunuchs, he had to grasp this opportunity with both hands. If they wanted money, he would shower them with riches. If they wanted lives, he would fill Guangzhou Prefecture with corpses.

Yun Ting's gaze drifted to Xue Tu. He watched Wooden Stone Daoist approach and whisper something in Xue Tu's ear. Xue Tu's expression remained impassive, but his eyes found Yun Ting's. They held each other's gaze for a moment, and understanding passed between them. Yun Ting turned and spotted the dark-skinned man in black he had positioned earlier, now leading two green-robed men toward Pockmarked Chen and Sun Gang's table. After a brief exchange with Sun Gang's head disciple, the disciple's eyes flashed with recognition. Shortly after, he guided the two green-robed men to the edge of the fighting area. The dark-skinned man glanced back at Yun Ting and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Everything was in place. Yun Ting felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders as he returned his attention to the fight.

Ming Dynasty martial arts valued weapons over empty-hand combat. More precisely, Ming martial arts prioritized "practicality"—which meant pursuing lethality above all else. Boxing and palm techniques simply couldn't demonstrate this advantage on the battlefield.

Qi Jiguang wrote in the "Fist Classic Shortcut Chapter" of his New Book of Effective Discipline: "Boxing methods may seem to offer no preparation for the skills of great wars, but moving hands and feet and training the limbs to diligence—this is the art for beginners entering the gate." Whether in the army, among mountain bandits, or in the jianghu—whether in private duels or pitched battle—warriors wielded sabers and halberds. Bare-handed combat was almost never required. The development of unarmed theory and technique couldn't compare to modern empty-hand fighting.

This didn't mean traditional martial arts were incapable of real combat. The Wen Family Seventy-Two Rows of Fists that Sun Gang practiced was an effective fighting method. In this era, metaphysical concepts like internal energy and qi had not yet emerged. Though lacking scientific systematization, martial arts still retained their original, practical face. The development of martial arts cannot be separated from its environment. The low living standards and productivity of medieval society set limits on how far any physical discipline could advance. In actual combat, because ancient martial artists faced opponents trained in similar systems, a trained expert could often end a fight against an ordinary person with a single straight punch to a vital point or a decisive grapple. Against an equally skilled opponent, however, neither side could dispatch the other with a single "lethal technique." Once they tangled, fights often devolved into wrestling and grappling. Kyokushin Karate and Muay Thai's "War Dance" both underwent painful metamorphosis to transform from traditional martial arts into modern competitive sports. When confronted with an entirely new fighting concept, ancient martial arts floundered, lacking the experience and tools to adapt.

From Xu Tong's perspective, it made no difference which school of boxing his opponent used. Though modern society boasted diverse fighting styles from around the world, they all tended to converge on similar techniques. Just as all ring and combat sports since modern times had adopted boxing's striking methods, this convergence demonstrated a fundamental truth: to generate force effectively, one cannot violate human physiological structure and the laws of motion. Technical movements inevitably evolve toward the same optimal forms.

Xu Tong's right punch shot forward. Sun Gang's left arm traced an outward semicircle with the elbow as pivot, touching Xu Tong's attacking hand but failing to deflect it. The fist smashed into Sun Gang's elbow joint with brutal force. Sun Gang cried out, his left arm going numb and sore. He yanked it back, feet stumbling two steps rearward to open distance. Xu Tong pressed the advantage. After seizing the initiative, he used a forward slide step followed by a left diagonal advance, rushing to Sun Gang's right flank. Sun Gang retreated with his right foot, quickly adjusting his stance to face his opponent squarely. Simultaneously, he turned sideways, thrust his hips forward, twisted at the crotch, braced on his right foot, and swept horizontally with his left leg. "Withered Tree Coiling Roots"—two successive kicks targeting Xu Tong's ankle and knee. Traditional boxing generally considered high kicks impractical, adhering to the maxim "legs do not pass the knees."

Xu Tong lifted his right foot, evading the low sweep. When the mid-level kick followed, his right leg rose to hip height. His upper body sank slightly, elbow and knee forming a wall of bone, his tibia blocking the strike. Exploiting the moment Sun Gang adjusted his balance, Xu Tong ducked and sidestepped, cutting to his opponent's right. His weight shifted to his left foot as he pivoted, driving a right hook into the left side of Sun Gang's skull.

Traditional martial arts, regardless of school, lacked any concept of defensive posture in their opening stances. They were either wide open and aggressive, or positioned one limb forward and one back, or one high and one low. By modern competitive standards, they showed virtually no awareness of protecting head and ribs. Against continuous combination strikes, they were defenseless.

The hook connected solidly. Sun Gang's face whipped violently to the right, blood and foam spraying backward with the motion. Without pausing, Xu Tong pushed off his left foot, pivoted right, and drove a left uppercut into Sun Gang's abdomen. Sun Gang doubled over, hands dropping instinctively to block—but catching nothing. Xu Tong had already reset his stance, left fist retracting as his right hook crashed into Sun Gang's left cheek once more. Ruptured capillaries flooded the tissue with blood, and Sun Gang's face swelled grotesquely. He staggered, the successive blows leaving him dazed. His left eye swelled shut, vision compromised. He stumbled back two steps.

Xu Tong didn't press immediately. Instead, he adjusted his position—right foot forward, left foot back—waiting until they were separated by a leg's length. Then he launched a spinning side kick. This technique was notoriously difficult in actual combat; the moment of turning before the kick briefly exposed one's back to the opponent, inviting counterattack. If the opponent moved or blocked during the rotation, it was easy to misjudge their position and distance. Generally, it could only succeed against a linear attack when the opponent revealed a clear opening. Xu Tong focused his strike consciousness on Sun Gang's chest, placing his pivot point on the ball of his foot as he spun...

The exchange was lightning and thunder, over in the time it takes a falcon to strike and a rabbit to fall. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd beyond the ring. The two green-robed men edged toward the fighting area, exchanged a glance, and prepared to enter. Suddenly, two burly men rushed from beside a wine table and helped Sun Gang to his feet. Sun Gang caught his breath, propping himself up with one hand. He coughed twice, waved them off, and managed only, "Don't—"

One of the men had already charged forward, bellowing, "You injured my master! I won't rest until we settle this—I'll fight you to the death!"

Without even announcing his name, he rushed in. A left punch drew Xu Tong's attention while his right hand shot forward, two fingers aimed at Xu Tong's eyes. Xu Tong bobbed and weaved past the left punch. Then, instead of dodging the eye gouge, he threw a left straight. With a sharp crack, the man's probing fingers collided squarely with Xu Tong's fist and snapped. The man screamed, body jerking back as his right leg snapped up toward Xu Tong's groin. Xu Tong stepped back and swayed away; the kick missed. He sidestepped right, moving to the man's left flank.

Annoyance flickered through him. Against Sun Gang, he had shown restraint—at worst causing a mild concussion and some blood pooling, nothing that would leave permanent damage or threaten life. But this fool had opened with eye gouges and groin kicks. Anger kindled in Xu Tong's chest. In truth, these so-called lethal techniques aimed at vital points meant nothing to an athlete with years of live sparring experience.

(End of Chapter)