Chapter 169: Motorized Infantry Meets Martial Arts — Even Immortals Can't Stop It

The origin of Through-the-back Fist is imitating the long-armed ape; its movements mainly focus on extending and striking far.

Generally, the shoulder is the axis; the fist must not be clenched, but should be half‑bent, or with the index finger joint protruding.

I'll demonstrate a set for you to see; actually, you can also find related tutorial videos online...

After Zhao Chuanwu finished speaking, he began to demonstrate the basic teaching of Through-the-back Fist to Lu Yang, and then performed it straight through.

The striking speed of Through-the-back Fist is very fast; when throwing a punch, it is accompanied by a slapping sound and a whooshing gust.

Lu Yang watched carefully, and the system was also strengthening the entire learning process.

Soon, Zhao Chuanwu finished a set, and had Lu Yang come up to try.

Lu Yang stepped forward two paces, took a deep breath to adjust his breathing rhythm, and threw out the opening move.

He struck out with the left hand, retracted the right fist, then lifted the left hand and threw a chopping punch; his body twisted with the arm, and the right arm followed closely with a chopping strike......

After briefly familiarizing himself with the routine, Lu Yang sped up his movements, combining the grappling techniques he had previously learned, to get a feel for it.

A whooshing gust was emitted when Lu Yang threw punches; as his movements quickened and force increased, the unique slapping sound of Through-the-back Fist practice followed closely.

Lu Yang performed three sets in a row, each more proficient than the last—so much so that even Zhao Chuanwu standing nearby could find no fault.

"Before this, did you learn by finding videos online to self‑teach?"

"No."

Lu Yang stopped his movements, and the whooshing fist wind also disappeared.

But Zhao Chuanwu wore a look of disbelief; he couldn't believe that someone with zero foundation could strike this well upon first contact with traditional martial arts.

During Lu Yang's third round, his movements and demeanor truly carried the feeling of a martial practitioner.

Actually, Zhao Chuanwu had originally planned only to teach him a few basic routines; that alone would have been enough for him to practice for several days.

Yet who would have thought that Lu Yang, after just one viewing, could produce a roughly comparable effect—this learning speed is truly outrageous.

"How about we spar directly? What I mainly want to learn is the practical combat techniques of Through-the-back Fist."

Traditional martial arts have evolved to the present day, gradually becoming a practice for cultivating body and mind, as well as a martial performance with ornamental value.

In the past, martial arts were genuinely used for killing; to preserve and continue them in a harmonious society, they could only become gentler.

But Lu Yang knows that traditional martial arts clans certainly retain the genuine essence of martial arts—at least they are not a castrated version.

This is his true purpose; he wants to learn a combat‑oriented Through-the-back Fist, not merely a routine for performance.

"Maybe we shouldn't; with your small frame, I'm afraid I'll hurt you, and you'd have trouble explaining it when you go back."

"As a martial practitioner, who says there's no reason to get bumps and bruises? Our motorized infantry has footwork, but hand skills are seriously lacking."

"At worst, we'll stop at light contact; if I really can't keep going, I'll call a halt."

Zhao Chuanwu pondered for a moment and felt that Lu Yang's words also made sense.

Getting bumps and bruises is normal for martial practitioners; he has basically gotten to where he is by being beaten along the way.

However, the power of Through-the-back Fist should not be underestimated; to avoid injuring Lu Yang, he still went to find the squad leader and got a set of protective gear.

Squad Leader Zhang handed the protective gear to him, astonished, and asked: "You're moving into practical training this quickly? Didn't you say teaching him a few basic routines would be enough for him to learn?"

Zhao Chuanwu explained: "I also thought he could at least practice for two or three days, but after watching once, he practiced three times on his own and already knew it."

"Really? You've taught me for a month, and I still can't get the hang of it?"

"Really, I didn't expect him to learn things this quickly."

Zhao Chuanwu took the protective gear and went back; Squad Leader Zhang simply didn't leave, preparing to watch from the sidelines to see what was going on.

Yet unexpectedly, Lu Yang shook his head and refused the protective gear that was offered to him.

"I don't need it."

"Are you sure?"

"Mm."

"My hands are heavy; one punch from me would be too much for you to handle."

"If you want to train your fists well, you first have to learn how to take a hit."

This line of thinking of Lu Yang's was worked out during his time in the training camp.

There is no training method that is faster and more efficient than going straight into practical combat.

Only when faced with a threat can the body and brain make the fastest reactions and judgments.

Despite Lu Yang's repeated insistence, Zhao Chuanwu did not understand but respected it, and so the two came to the sand pit.

"Here I come!"

Lu Yang shouted and launched an attack.

Yet unexpectedly, his fist was blocked by the opponent and deftly deflected to the side.

No wonder he's a trained martial artist; if this punch were thrown at an ordinary soldier, it would likely not be blocked.

Zhao Chuanwu consecutively blocked Lu Yang's two punches, then stepped forward with his rear foot and struck straight at Lu Yang's face with his left fist.

Lu Yang quickly raised his arm to block, but he didn't expect this to be a feint from Zhao Chuanwu; as Zhao pulled back his left hand, his right hand, using the shoulder as a pivot, delivered a side chop that landed on Lu Yang's shoulder.

Lu Yang, unable to dodge this blow, winced in pain as his facial features tightened; he almost lost his balance and half‑knelt.

He knew that strikes from Through-the-back Fist would be painful, but he didn't expect it to hurt this much?

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Or maybe you should wear the protective gear; the Northern school's fist technique is very heavy—my older brother uses this move, and one punch can kill a pig."

Lu Yang rubbed his burning shoulder and asked: "Is your brother also a soldier?"

Zhao Chuanwu grunted: "He's in Special Operations; I'm not sure which exact unit, but I'm the least capable in our family."

Lu Yang stretched a bit and said: "Let's stop chatting; let's continue."

"Still coming?"

Hmm.

Otherwise, are you wearing protective gear?

No need.

This time, it's Zhao Chuanwu's turn to attack.

He threw a right hook at Lu Yang's face.

That's how martial artists are: either they don't fight, or if they do, they go all out.

Although Zhao Chuanwu is just a second-rate fighter, his combat skill is absolutely not inferior to Zhou Kaidong's or Guo Yongwen's.

So in the first fifteen minutes, Lu Yang was almost constantly on the defensive, even getting knocked down several times.

Even Squad Leader Zhang, watching from the side, couldn't help but suck in a cold breath, wondering if Lu Yang had some masochistic tendency, refusing to stop.

The two fought lively, and the crowd of onlookers grew, until even the squad leader, platoon leader, company commander, instructor, and some unrelated people came to watch the excitement.

This is that guy, the dark horse number 68 who shone brightly in the division's martial arts competition?

What's wrong with him, insisting on coming to our company just to get abused by Zhao Chuanwu?

Zhao Chuanwu is a trained fighter; his punches come down like rain—last time I fought him in a sparring match, I was in so much pain I could barely walk for two days!

To be frank, this private has a stubborn streak of not admitting defeat; he's fought this long without ever shouting that he's in pain or calling for a stop.

Although to others Lu Yang seems purely here to suffer, only he himself knows he's enjoying the exhilarating battle.

Besides, the physique-enhancing attributes granted by the system also make it impossible for him to stop.

The more he gets hit, the more his impact resistance improves.

The more he gets beaten, the more his immunity to pain increases.

The more proficient he becomes in Through-the-back Fist, the greater the space he can unleash in close combat with an enemy.

On site, the most surprised person was Zhao Chuanwu himself; after repeatedly defeating Lu Yang, he realized that next time it would definitely be harder to beat him.

The most unbelievable thing is that his opponent seems able to figure out his attack patterns after repeated sparring.

Several times Zhao Chuanwu thought he could land a hit, but Lu Yang blocked it each time with clever technique.

This feeling was eerie, making Zhao Chuanwu think his opponent wasn't a living person but a humanoid computer with massive processing power.

He would understand, analyze, break down your attack lines, and, by plugging them into mathematical formulas, deliver a powerful counter.

Whoosh!

Zhao Chuanwu let his guard down, and a gust of force struck.

Lu Yang delivered a heavy, sinking side chop that smashed into his arm.

A heavy blow struck Zhao Chuanwu's nerve point, making him grit his teeth in pain right away.

He threw a backhand straight punch at Lu Yang's face, but didn't expect Lu Yang's left hand to swing up and easily deflect it.

Then Lu Yang's right hand, like a venomous snake, half‑clenched its index finger, extended, and struck out with a whooshing sound.

Zhao Chuanwu's eyes widened in shock; he never imagined Lu Yang could so smoothly execute the "Double Pulling Hand".

Seeing the fist about to hit his neck, Zhao Chuanwu almost reflexively kicked out, trying to push Lu Yang away.

But he didn't expect that, at the very moment he lifted his leg, he'd see Lu Yang curl the corner of his mouth into a wicked grin.

Damn, I fell for the trap!

As Zhao Chuanwu's kick missed, Lu Yang hooked his other leg hard.

Off‑balance, Zhao Chuanwu immediately lost his footing and toppled sideways to the ground.

Bang—before Zhao Chuanwu could react, the arm that had been struck numb earlier was seized in a reverse grip.

Lu Yang pressed his shoulder against Zhao Chuanwu's back, face‑down, locked the arm, and pinned him to the floor, immobile.

At that moment the field fell silent; everyone in the 441 Regiment Artillery Ninth Company stared agape, jaws dropping.

This, this isn't scientific!

It's a hallucination, definitely a hallucination—I must be dreaming!

Zhao Chuanwu is a trained fighter; our company's strongest three or four can't subdue him, so how could a rookie knock him down?!