Chapter Twenty-Three: The Martial Competition on the Training Grounds

Xing Yong, locked in the duel, noticed a stir among the students watching. He had not struck for some time, and for a military expert like him, such hesitation was a disgrace. He had not anticipated that Liu Fan's patience would surpass his own; gradually, he too lost his composure and decided to make his move.

He feinted with a straight left, his right fist gathering strength for a concealed hook. Yet such probing tricks were easily seen through by Liu Fan, whose gaze was sharp as a hawk’s. Though Liu Fan had little experience in actual combat and had never formally studied martial arts, his previous brawl with Crow and Tengu had allowed him to master his own fighting technique to a proficient level. Coupled with the exceptional physique granted by his immortal heritage, he was not to be taken lightly.

As Xing Yong attacked, Liu Fan sidestepped, foiling his opponent’s plans and rendering even the follow-up strike impossible. Seeing his attack fail, Xing Yong was surprised but not discouraged; in fact, his interest only deepened. He increased the force of his strikes, delivering a powerful side kick, which Liu Fan blocked with his hand, using the recoil to swiftly retreat and evade.

Xing Yong had anticipated such a response and pressed forward quickly, targeting Liu Fan’s abdomen with a brutal “cannon punch”—a military boxing technique, fast as lightning, forceful as a mountain’s collapse, explosive in its power. To ordinary people, such an attack would be terrifying, but in Liu Fan’s eyes, the punch was sluggish and the supposed might was inconsequential. With a simple backward dodge, Liu Fan allowed Xing Yong’s cannon punch to strike nothing but air.

At this point, Xing Yong’s gaze grew focused. Several consecutive attacks had been easily evaded by Liu Fan, indicating formidable martial prowess. Now Xing Yong began to take him seriously.

Experts see the essence, novices watch the spectacle. To the students watching, it appeared Liu Fan was being relentlessly chased without any chance to fight back. Though Liu Fan seemed relaxed, they still worried for him.

Xing Yong launched another assault, each move more fierce, cunning, and ruthless, fully showcasing his military body art. Yet, despite his efforts, he failed to even graze Liu Fan’s clothes. The more he fought, the more alarmed he became, but his pride and honor as a soldier would not permit defeat.

The two clashed for several rounds, attack and evasion in rapid succession. Xing Yong retreated, his expression dark, and said, “I don’t need anyone to go easy on me. What kind of man dodges and runs like this?”

“Oh? Losing your cool already? Very well, let me show you how high the sky is and how deep the earth runs. Prepare yourself.” Hearing Xing Yong’s words, Liu Fan knew his opponent was growing agitated, but he remained calm and unruffled, replying with a teasing air.

Liu Fan intended to teach Xing Yong a profound lesson, to show him that beyond every mountain lies another.

The students, lacking the keen eyes of the soldiers, were confused by the exchange. However, several officers observing from the sidelines recognized the subtleties. “Looks like Xing Yong is in trouble now,” one remarked.

“Yes, that student’s skills are impressive, not inferior to Xing Yong.”

“If you ask me, the student’s abilities surpass Xing Yong’s. Didn’t you see his footwork earlier? So light and profound—he dodged Xing Yong’s attacks with ease.”

“Yes, I noticed too. Xing Yong ranks among the top three warriors in the entire military district, yet he’s forced to exhaust his best moves against this student.”

“Indeed, indeed.”

As the officers discussed the match with enthusiasm, a powerful voice interrupted their conversation. “This young man is calm as a virgin, swift as a startled hare, his defense measured and precise—he has the bearing of a master of the national martial arts.”

A middle-aged man, about forty, approached, clad in green military uniform, with a square face and bright eyes, a small mustache on his lip, and a shining star on his shoulder—the badge of a general. His gaze burned with eagerness as he watched Liu Fan in the arena; it was a look of admiration, desire for talent, and the intense thrill of facing a worthy opponent.

This was Sun Jianguo, Major General of the East China Military District, himself a practitioner of ancient martial arts. Though not exceptionally strong—holding only a mid-tier earth rank—he hailed from a distinguished family of generals, obsessed with martial arts, and was considered the foremost expert in the district. On a whim, he had come to observe the training of university freshmen, only to witness this exhilarating scene and discover a talent like Liu Fan. He was already considering recruiting Liu Fan under his command.

He walked up to the officers who had been critiquing, signaling them to remain at ease and focus on the match.

Meanwhile, in the ring, Liu Fan finally began to exert himself, though only slightly—he had no intention of knocking his opponent flat in a single blow, as that would be dull and risk offending others.

He advanced, tilted his head to dodge the incoming fist, then seized Xing Yong’s arm with his right hand, shouldered him with a swift motion, and executed a flawless “Leaning on the Mountain” throw, his movements as fluid as drifting clouds and flowing water.

In that instant, Xing Yong felt as if he had been swept up in a whirlwind, hurled through the air, landing painfully on his back. The agony left him dazed for quite some time.

The sudden turn stunned the students cheering for Liu Fan, but soon the arena erupted in enthusiastic applause. They realized Liu Fan was not only handsome but possessed extraordinary martial prowess. For the young men with dreams of heroism, the temptation was overwhelming—many wished to become his disciples. The female students’ gazes towards Liu Fan changed as well, hungry and starstruck, as if wolves had spotted prey; Wen Wan and Zhao Chuo Jun were among them.

Xing Yong, defeated, could scarcely believe it, nor could the spectators. Only Sun Jianguo saw that Xing Yong and Liu Fan were not even in the same league, though he watched on with great interest.

Xing Yong, climbing to his feet once more, could no longer maintain composure. The blow was a humiliating disgrace for him. Like a maddened bull, he launched a furious assault at Liu Fan, who, far from being easy to handle, taunted him as they fought.

“So this is supposed to be a military expert? Your punch is off—what’s wrong with your eyes?”

“This kick’s angle is wrong, the power’s weak. Not only are your eyes bad, you’re a softie.”

“Cannon punch lacks momentum, the force is too scattered—form without spirit. Useless.”

“You’re a soldier, but your movements are sluggish. Be decisive.”

“Military boxing demands speed, precision, ruthlessness. You barely achieve one of those, huh?”

“With your skills, I could take on a hundred like you and knock you all out with ease.”

As time passed, the scene grew increasingly bizarre. What began as an attack and dodge, then a crushing defeat, finally devolved into a master teaching a disciple. The students watching were baffled by this transformation, but they knew that from this day forward, Liu Fan would be famous, and not just in an ordinary way. This event made him a legendary figure, celebrated and discussed with great enthusiasm.

Who else could spar with a king among soldiers and end up teaching him martial arts? Truly remarkable.

Xing Yong, as Liu Fan critiqued him, realized he was being guided. Soldiers like him were straightforward and frank, yet he remembered every kindness shown to him.

One willing to teach, the other eager to learn—they continued sparring move by move, with Liu Fan occasionally pointing out Xing Yong’s flaws. Their attacks grew so fast that ordinary eyes could no longer follow them.

Sun Jianguo and the senior officers watching were envious; if such talent could be retained in the army, the troops would soon reach new heights. Their ambitions were grand, but reality was harsh. Not only was Liu Fan’s consent uncertain, but the Dragon Organization was also actively trying to recruit him, so their hopes were destined to be dashed.

The match ended with Xing Yong once again knocked to the ground, but this experience left him deeply satisfied, for he had learned skills unavailable in the army. The students watched with relish, declaring it a worthwhile spectacle, and the officers’ eyes shone with excitement.

Everyone was thoroughly entertained—except Liu Fan, who now found himself surrounded by his classmates. Some bold female students sent him flirtatious glances; others even tried to tear at his clothes. Fortunately, he dodged swiftly, or else he might have had to run naked through the campus that day.