Chapter 50: Today, the True Tiger is Finally Revealed

Anyone with a discerning eye could see that the Dazhuang Fist side no longer had any possibility of turning the tables.

Two consecutive defeats had already exhausted their meager morale.

The few Disciples who had followed Zhuang Daqiang took advantage of the chaos to sneak away entirely, their whereabouts long since unknown.

Fearing that the martial arts hall would settle scores later, they hurriedly severed ties with Zhuang Daqiang and went off to seek their own livelihoods.

Now, only Zhang Shiyu, who was still unconscious, and Zhuang Tie, who was severely injured, remained.

Zhuang Daqiang said loudly, "Wang Laohu, you and I both know that the children fighting back and forth is of no consequence."

"The victory or defeat between you and me is what concerns the future."

Zhang Shiyu, whom he was proud of, had been defeated, and Zhuang Tie, whom he regarded as half a son, had half an arm crippled; now, only he remained.

However, Zhuang Daqiang still had not given up hope.

"That makes sense; if I were beaten to death by you, these youngsters would not be able to hold onto the foundation and would certainly have it seized by you."

Wang Jianxiong nodded, "As for those students of yours who fled, it is of no concern; the world generally follows the powerful and tramples the weak; as long as there is territory and reputation, as many Apprentices as one wants will come rolling in."

"In the third match, if you beat me to death, you will have both the territory and the reputation."

If he could defeat Wang Laohu head-on, he would surely have a place for himself in Gongliang City.

Zhuang Daqiang told Zhuang Tie to wrap his wounds, then carried the unconscious Zhang Shiyu to the side to place him down.

"I want to have a go with Wang Laohu."

The sitting tiger in Gongliang City, the tiger's children and grandchildren compete in ferocity.

Although this saying was a slogan touted by the martial arts circle, it had the credibility of pure gold.

Hearing of someone is not as good as meeting them; he had just witnessed the cruelty of the tiger's children and grandchildren, and now he was going to face the tiger ancestor head-on.

Dazhuang Fist rose in Su Cheng and had been passed down to him for three generations; it must never fade into obscurity and perish.

In this battle, even if he burned out these old bones, he had to make a name for himself.

The martial artist's circle was inherently one of survival of the fittest, a path of life carved out through fight after fight.

Outsiders only knew the prestige of the sitting tiger Wang Jianxiong, but they did not know the piles of white bones laid out beneath that prestige.

The question was, could he succeed in fighting the tiger today?

Wang Jianxiong stood up and entered the arena, took off his outer garment and tossed it back, and several trusted Disciples scrambled to catch it.

He walked a few steps, looking like an ordinary old man, but Zhou You noticed his footsteps were extremely steady.

How steady was it?

Under Wang Jianxiong's feet, not even sesame-sized gravel was kicked up, and the soil lay there silently.

While he strolled as if in a leisurely courtyard, Zhuang Daqiang faced a formidable enemy and had long since set his stance.

"Your Dazhuang Fist is, in the final analysis, a farmer's trick; the upper limit is too low."

"Beating you to death with my Jade Tiger Art is doing you a favor."

"Zhuang Daqiang, it is hard to leave one's native land and leaves return to their roots; you are destined never to be buried in the soil of Su Cheng in this lifetime."

Two beams of silver light shot from Wang Jianxiong's eyes, and where they landed, needle-like clusters of honeycomb-shaped holes appeared.

"Today I will beat you, this sitting tiger, into a dead tiger."

The large tendons all over Zhuang Daqiang's body bulged like coiled dragons, and his withered, thin frame erupted with astonishing power.

When he threw a punch, the buildings, including the martial arts hall, jumped twice in everyone's line of sight.

Some Apprentices could not help but press their chests, fearing their heartbeats were so intense they would jump out of their mouths.

This terrifying power that shook the earth was a level higher than the previous exchanges between Qi and Blood Disciples.

Wang Jianxiong made his move; he raised his right hand, his skin flashing with silver light, and in an instant, it transformed into a Hu Zhua.

"Petty tricks, and you dare to show them off."

The silver Hu Zhua struck out like lightning; Zhuang Daqiang's pupils contracted sharply, and he hurriedly twisted his body and swung his arms to dodge.

His Mud-Wading Step was even more seasoned, carrying not a hint of smoke or fire, and with a light sway, he was dozens of meters away.

Wang Jianxiong's Hu Zhua followed like a shadow to kill.

Others only saw the Hall Master, that old man, leap from the ground and cross the long distance to strike.

A fierce tiger descending the mountain, possessing both speed and power, directly shattered the prejudice of clumsiness usually associated with such a massive creature.

"Clang, clang."

Zhou You's ears twitched; when the two martial masters exchanged blows, the sound of skin and flesh colliding was like the ringing of gold and iron.

At their level, their defensive power had reached the point of wearing a layer of Iron Armor, making them difficult to injure with blades or swords.

After a dozen or so rounds of fighting, a burst of heroic laughter suddenly rang out.

"Zhuang Daqiang, is this all the skill you have?"

Wang Jianxiong looked up and laughed wildly, then suddenly stopped his footsteps.

He looked back and spoke to his few trusted Disciples, "Watch closely, this is how the fist path of the Wang Tiger Art is struck."

Lu Qiang and several trusted Disciples stood respectfully, listening to their master's teachings.

"Mountain Monarch greets the guest, opening one's heart and gut!"

Silver light burst forth, golden patterns proliferated, and his palms expanded into Hu Zhua.

Wang Jianxiong's figure instantly transformed into a sturdy, fierce tiger, bringing up a foul wind on flat ground.

Zhou You rubbed his eyes; it was not an illusion, but a truly vivid outline of a fierce tiger, with fur, claws, and teeth that were lifelike.

Could martial arts reach this level?

A body of flesh and blood manifesting the form of a fierce tiger could be called miraculous.

Looking at Zhuang Daqiang again, he was not to be outdone and erupted with an equivalent ultimate move.

His arms were shaped like hooked sickles, and the cold light bursting from his pores condensed into sharp blades, like two crossed sickles of refined steel.

A breeze swept across the surface of the sickles, instantly slicing them into two halves, leaving no trace behind.

The ultimate techniques of the two great martial masters were about to collide in a heaven-and-earth-shaking showdown.

"Wang Laohu, die!"

Zhuang Daqiang made the first move, swinging his two sickles in a cross, aiming to sever Wang Jianxiong's head.

Cutting grass is like cutting heads; now, the true test had arrived!

Wang Jianxiong said nothing more, raising his two Hu Zhua and pouncing forward, golden and silver light rolling like boiling water.

The sickles snapped, and the sound of shattering followed immediately!

A violent force slammed into Zhuang Daqiang's chest, piercing through his body and bursting straight out from his back.

His sternum snapped clean through, piercing his internal organs and even protruding from his back, skin and flesh turned inside out, blood flowing like a downpour.

Zhuang Daqiang's body, like a kite with a broken string, arched through the air and plummeted to the ground, smashing out a crater.

Thud! The sound of the impact reached everyone's ears clearly.

Three matches, three victories; Jian Xiong Martial Hall achieved a crushing total victory, winning from start to finish.

Furthermore, each win was faster and easier than the last.

By the time the hall master Wang Jianxiong took the field himself, he won in under twenty rounds, leaving Zhuang Daqiang on the verge of death.

"Master!"

Zhuang Tie stumbled forward, supporting the weak-breathing Zhuang Daqiang.

"He's not dead, he still has one breath left; take him away!"

Wang Jianxiong put on his outer robe and shook his head self-deprecatingly, "I'm old, and my heart has grown soft."

In the past, he wouldn't have minded delivering one more kick to stomp Zhuang Daqiang to death.

The challenge to the martial hall thus came to an end.

Jian Xiong Martial Hall defended its reputation, having beaten the Dazhuang Fist lineage to the brink of extinction, leaving only three old, weak, sick, or disabled members.

Martial combat is just that cruel: the winner is glorious, the loser is destroyed.

If Jian Xiong Martial Hall had lost, the outcome for both sides would have been reversed; there is no dispute about that.

However, this was not an isolated case.

In the days that followed, news came from martial halls all over the city that challenges were being launched one after another against various schools within the Su Cheng fist-martial circle.

Although most failed, a rare few succeeded.

The defeated martial halls took down their own signboards, ceded their territory to the victors, and the Apprentices and Disciples scattered like monkeys when a tree falls.

The impact from the chaotic times began to descend upon the fist-martial circle.