Chapter 41: Meeting
Chapter 41: Chapter 41: Meeting
"The winner is—Feng Yuxiu!!!"
The host’s impassioned shout pierced through the clamor, accompanied by the landslide of deafening cheers from the audience!
"Feng Yuxiu! Feng Yuxiu! Feng Yuxiu!"
Discussions rose and fell amidst the boiling waves of sound:
"My God! Feng Yuxiu won even more decisively than when he fought Iron Hand!"
"Yeah! It’s a pity his odds are lower now. Last time it was ten to one, but this time it’s only two point something!"
"Two point something isn’t bad! It’s a steady profit!"
"Damn! He broke Charming Phantom’s Body Technique with a single strike and instantly secured the victory! I thought they would be entangled in a dogfight for a long time!"
"I really didn’t expect Feng Yuxiu’s fists to be harder than Iron Hand’s, and his footwork and Body Technique to be even more bizarre. Even Charming Phantom couldn’t gain the slightest advantage!"
"I’m definitely coming to his next match! Betting on him feels like a guaranteed win!"
Inside the iron cage, Fang Chen calmly acknowledged the crowd. Then, under the referee’s guidance, he turned and walked back into the competitor’s tunnel, shutting out the fanaticism behind him.
Returning to the lounge, just as he took off his combat suit, a knock sounded on the door.
"Are they delivering the money this quickly?" he thought. It was probably the club’s prize money settlement staff.
Opening the door, he was greeted instead by Luo Wu’s excited face.
"Master!"
Fang Chen finally remembered that the man had come specifically to deliver the *Iron Wall Strike*.
As soon as Luo Wu entered, he couldn’t help but give a thumbs-up, his face full of worship. "Master! That was beautiful! I watched the match just now! That guy Charming Phantom is famous for his bizarre speed, but in front of you, he was moving in slow motion!
"The timing of your step-in, and the precision of that throat-sealing punch..."
Fang Chen waved his hand, cutting off the flattery. His gaze fell on Luo Wu’s still somewhat inconvenienced left arm. "Alright, enough bootlicking. How are your injuries?"
Luo Wu hastily moved his right arm and carefully lifted his left. "My right hand is already fine. The left one should be mostly recovered after another week of rest, and it won’t affect my daily activities."
After saying that, he reached into his waistband, fumbling around for a moment before carefully pulling out a thread-bound book with slightly worn edges. The hiding spot made Fang Chen’s eyelids involuntarily twitch.
"Master, here! This is the secret manual for the Iron Wall Strike!" Luo Wu offered the manual with both hands.
Fang Chen took the booklet, which still carried a trace of body heat, and found it slightly heavy in his hands. Flipping through the handwriting and diagrams, he raised an eyebrow. This Cultivation Technique reminded him of some Outer Sect Hard Skills he had heard about in his previous life, such as the Iron Sand Palm.
Looking up, Fang Chen asked, "Does cultivating this Combat Skill require the assistance of specific external objects? Like iron sand or medicinal oils?"
Luo Wu shook his head. "To answer you, Master, absolutely not! The essence of this Martial Skill lies in its unique True Qi circulation Technique and the accompanying tempering Heart Technique.
"By condensing and compressing True Qi in a specific way, it repeatedly washes over and tempers the meridians and bones of the hands, altering their texture."
He stretched out his right hand—its color had returned to normal, but it still vaguely felt a bit different—and gestured. "At the Initial Glimpse, the skin and membranes of the hands will become tough.
"When trained to Minor Achievement, just like I was before, both hands will turn a dull, dark color, pitch-black like pig iron. Although it looks like metal, its strength is actually closer to hard rock. It becomes difficult to injure with ordinary swords and blades, and when exerting force, it possesses unparalleled fierceness!"
He continued explaining, "Cultivating to the Great Success Realm doesn’t merely increase the hardness of the hands, but extends this tempering effect to cover the entire forearm!
"By then, not only the palms, but even the wrists and forearms will possess astonishing rock-like strike resistance and attack intensity! As for the legendary state of Perfection..." Luo Wu’s eyes shone. "It’s said that the tempering range can be expanded to all four limbs!
"Furthermore, it returns to its natural state. The external anomalies disappear and the skin color returns to normal, but the strength of the muscles and bones will undergo a qualitative leap, truly reaching a level comparable to hundred-refined steel! Every movement will possess the might to shatter monuments and split rocks!"
Listening to Luo Wu’s description and combining it with the records in the manual, Fang Chen’s interest deepened. This *Iron Wall Strike* truly seemed to have its unique merits. It wasn’t just simple Hard Skills, but more of a Combat Skill that systematically reformed and strengthened specific parts of the body. If he could master it, it would undoubtedly greatly enhance his close-quarters combat abilities.
"Interesting," he said, closing the manual and looking at Luo Wu. "I’ll accept this manual and study it for now. Focus on nursing your injuries. Once you’re fully healed, if I’ve managed to achieve anything with this, we can discuss it a bit."
Luo Wu obviously didn’t harbor much hope. Even for a genius practicing eight hours a day, it would take at least a year to reach Minor Achievement. Still, he politely replied, "Yes! Thank you, Master! Your disciple will definitely heal up as soon as possible!"
Just as Luo Wu was preparing to take his leave, before his hand even touched the doorknob, a knock sounded from outside. When he opened the door, standing outside was the event coordinator responsible for settling prize money.
"Hello, Mr. Feng. This is your prize money for this match. A base victory prize of twenty thousand yuan, plus the audience’s tipping share, totaling two thousand seven hundred and fifty-three yuan. That brings the total to twenty-two thousand seven hundred and fifty-three yuan. Please count it and verify."
The coordinator wore a professional smile and handed over a thick envelope.
"Not bad." Fang Chen took the envelope and, just like last time, unabashedly counted the bills one by one in front of the other party.
The coordinator had clearly grown accustomed to Fang Chen’s style this time. His smile remained unchanged as he stood patiently in place, not showing a hint of annoyance.
Fang Chen finished counting, confirmed the amount was correct, and securely pocketed the cash. Seeing that the man still hadn’t left, he muttered internally, "Huh? Is he waiting for a tip? Whatever, I’ll give him a little to save myself the trouble."
So, he casually pulled two ten-yuan bills from the freshly received cash and handed them over.
Seeing this, the coordinator hurriedly waved his hands in refusal and explained, "Mr. Feng, you misunderstand. That’s not what this is about." His tone carried a hint of respect. "It’s our Geta Club’s boss—President Zhao—who wishes to meet you. However, there’s no rush. You can go after you’re properly packed up."
"President Zhao?" Fang Chen frowned slightly. "Why does he want to see me?"
The coordinator’s smile didn’t waver. "Well... you’ll know once you get there. President Zhao is just upstairs."
Fang Chen pondered for a moment. He was still making money on someone else’s turf, so it wouldn’t be appropriate to refuse the boss’s summons. "Alright then. Let’s go."
He followed the coordinator out of the lounge.
The structure of the Geta Club’s basement level one was complex. Strictly speaking, it was divided into two levels: the central sunken iron cage ring and the vast audience seating surrounding it belonged to basement level two, which was on lower ground; meanwhile, the VIP viewing area with a better vantage point and private boxes, the club’s management offices, and some functional areas were located on the basement level one platform that encircled the floor below.
The coordinator guided Fang Chen outside a large private box on basement level one, which boasted the best location and widest view, and knocked on the door. A beautiful receptionist in a tailored dress suit opened it.
"Hello, Mr. Feng. President Zhao is still inside discussing some matters. Could I trouble you to sit on the sofa here for a moment?" She flashed a sweet smile, leading Fang Chen toward the seating area outside the box.