Chapter 222: Then Let's Compete

As soon as the man spoke, the people on Qi Erkui's side immediately chimed in. Qi One-Eye glanced over with his single eye, shook his head again, and continued drinking and eating meat. It seemed he didn't often get the chance to indulge in meat.

Qi Erkui's face was bright red, his speech a little off-key, as he said drunkenly: "Master Jin, you don't know, this brother of mine wields a fine pudao. He once went over to **** to pick up salt, and unexpectedly got targeted by outside bandits who wanted to murder him in the desolate wilderness. He cut down four of them with a single blade..."

The man being talked about was all smiles, but at that moment Liu Yong suddenly spoke up: "Cheng Lao Wu from Xiao County?"

They had been speaking cheerfully, but hadn't expected Liu Yong to reveal his background in one sentence, and they couldn't help falling quiet for a moment. Liu Yong smiled and continued: "Cheng Wu of Xiao County made his name from that incident and built his own standing."

These words were not flattery for the man, but an explanation for Zhao Jin. Zhao Jin smiled and nodded. Cheng Wu, who didn't seem to have drunk much, took the opening to speak: "Second Brother, you're bringing up those old stories again. My skill is far inferior to Instructor Song's. He took down over a dozen soldiers from the Xuzhou Left Garrison with a single eyebrow-height staff — that's real skill."

They were all flattering each other. Qi Erkui laughed heartily a few times, and a burly man beside him also smiled and nodded. Qi Erkui pointed at the big man and said: "Master Jin, this Brother Song is the pillar of my little operation. Without him holding things up, I wouldn't have the standing I do today."

"Exactly, exactly. All of us here only fight one-on-one, at most a dozen or so people. When things really kick off, it comes down to personal skill, spear and staff techniques. The methods of the battlefield are too grand; they don't apply here," someone said with a chuckle. A clamor of agreement followed from all around, all meaning the same thing.

Zhao Jin smiled, set down his wine bowl, picked up a piece of roast meat, chewed it unhurriedly, and swallowed. Only then did he speak: "Since you've put it that way, Erkui, how about we each send out a man and have a match? Two men from each side, and we'll see who's better!"

He understood the meaning behind their words: it was nothing more than unwillingness to concede. They had faced off that afternoon without fighting; Qi Erkui's side had suffered no casualties, but their face had been completely lost. They were always thinking of reclaiming that ground. Having seen no blood and suffered no great loss, they always felt they still had a chance. Since they were no match in formation combat, they wanted to emphasize single combat.

Qi Erkui's side bragging to each other was for this very purpose. He figured that in a little while someone would use being drunk as an excuse to issue a challenge. Zhao Jin couldn't be bothered to waste words and directly called them out on it.

Hearing Zhao Jin's proposal, Qi Erkui's side was stunned. He didn't know whether Zhao Jin's side had guessed their original intent, and immediately laughed dryly and said: "How would we dare fight against Master Jin's men? We small fry are certainly no match!"

Though the words were said this way, the expressions on their faces told a different story. Both Instructor Song and Cheng Wu wore looks of utter defiance. Zhao Jin, still smiling, said: "You won't be satisfied without a fight. Use your true skills. If you can beat any one of my men, your regular tribute can be reduced by twenty percent."

At these words, the eyes of Qi Erkui and the salt smugglers all lit up. Zhao Jin had said he wanted Qi Erkui's side to hand over a certain percentage each month, but the smugglers all knew that this percentage would have to be shared among everyone. Now that Zhao Jin had actually put forward such a condition, they were naturally excited. And if they really did win, with their momentum rising, these terms might not be non-negotiable.

At this moment, although Qi Erkui still looked completely drunk, his movements were not those of a drunk man. He looked left and right, exchanging glances with the people beside and behind him. Instructor Song and Cheng Wu both nodded almost imperceptibly. When Qi Erkui turned back, his face was already wreathed in smiles, and he said, still with a thick tongue: "Since Master Jin doesn't take offense, then we must beg your pardon. We small fry will exchange a few pointers with Master Jin's side and broaden our horizons a bit."

The news spread quickly. The entrance of Qi Erkui's house was packed with people, and quite a few had even climbed onto the walls. It was much the same as the scene at the edge of Qi Family Village that afternoon. It was fortunate that Qi Erkui's house was solidly built and the walls were sturdy; otherwise, they might easily have collapsed.

One would think that Qi Erkui, being a local figure of some standing, wouldn't be so lacking in decorum. But right now, he couldn't wait for more people to come and watch. As long as they could win the upcoming contest, they could recover much of the face they had lost that afternoon, not to mention the reduced tribute. In fact, the ones coming to watch were all those salt smugglers who weren't qualified to sit at the banquet.

"Dasheng, the two of us will go down. You take the pudao, I'll take the eyebrow-height staff. If we don't beat them into submission, these people still won't behave," Zhao Jin said simply. Chen Sheng nodded and stood up. Beside him, Shi Manqiang, Ji Xiang, and Dong Bingfeng all wore expressions of regret and disappointment. Liu Yong just chuckled there.

"Young Master Jin, this contest between you and Erkui's men is just for fun. Don't use real weapons, so as to avoid bloodshed," Qi One-Eye spoke up from the side.

Neither Zhao Jin nor Qi Erkui had any objection to this suggestion. Qi Erkui's men hurriedly put out the bonfire in the center of the courtyard and lit two more on either side. The torches were also replaced with a fresh set, making the whole courtyard much brighter.

In any household that practiced martial arts, wooden staves of various lengths and thicknesses are always kept ready. These things are prepared precisely for simulating different kinds of weapons.

Cheng Wu had already chosen a wooden staff similar to a pudao. Chen Sheng also picked one, weighed it in his hand after returning, and said with a smile:

"This does feel a bit like the martial contests back at the freight yard."

Zhao Jin and his companions all laughed along. Those were the happiest memories of the past. Before they could speak, they heard cheers and applause from Cheng Wu's side. Turning to look, they saw that in this cold weather, Cheng Wu had already stripped off his upper garment, baring his torso and revealing knotted muscles. He looked incredibly imposing, and the surrounding people cheered incessantly.

Both sides signaled, and each stepped into the center of the field. Cheng Wu held his wooden staff horizontally in both hands, looking quite solemn and very professional.

"Big Brother, is Dasheng confident?" Dong Bingfeng asked worriedly. The other three were also looking at Zhao Jin.

Zhao Jin nodded and said in a deep voice: "He's confident."

"Isn't it said that there are strong masters among the outlaws of the rivers and lakes?" Dong Bingfeng asked again.

Zhao Jin smiled and shook his head, then spoke calmly: "We have practiced non-stop every day for at least five years. We don't have to busy ourselves with making a living; we focus solely on martial arts. And we eat well and eat our fill. We have the guidance of a famous teacher who has been on the battlefield. We have also killed people. We are definitely stronger than them. Why would we lose!"

Eating well and training every day builds a good physique and sufficient strength. Having a famous teacher's guidance leaves no shortcomings in techniques and forms. Having killed in battle means no lack of experience. And these so-called "outlaws of the rivers and lakes" cannot achieve this. What they do every day is transport and sell salt, busying themselves with making a living. How could they specifically train in martial arts? There's actually a common saying that sums this up: "The poor study literature, the rich practice martial arts!"

The cheers from the other side had been growing louder, but upon seeing Chen Sheng step into the field, they involuntarily quieted down considerably. Chen Sheng was tall, stout, and bulky. Moreover, from years of practicing the blade, he had cultivated an aura as imposing as a deep mountain. Standing face to face, he exerted tremendous pressure on his opponent. Cheng Wu was quite brawny, but compared to Chen Sheng, he was still a size smaller.

A contest like this didn't need anyone to shout start. Both sides nodded at each other and began. Cheng Wu pointed his staff at Chen Sheng's face, then immediately reversed it and swept it across horizontally. Right from the start, Cheng Wu aimed to seize the initiative!

His move was a feint followed by a real strike, originally intended to draw a reaction from Chen Sheng. He hadn't expected that Chen Sheng would remain steady and unmoving from the very beginning. His family learning ran deep; he knew that in such a duel, one should watch the shoulders and waist. The movements of those two areas would reveal the opponent's feints and real intentions.

But Cheng Wu's movements were not slow. The staff in his hand was about to sweep across to Chen Sheng's waist. If this strike landed, the outcome would be largely decided. One must realize, if the wooden staff were a real pudao, this one strike would have killed him outright.

Just at that moment, Chen Sheng leaned his body forward, raised both arms, took a step forward, and brought his staff down in a fierce chop!

The movement was completely clean and fluid, without the slightest hesitation, executed in one breath. The explosive force of the strike was like a detonation. Although Chen Sheng had moved later, his strike arrived first!

Originally, Cheng Wu's horizontal sweep had drawn some cheers from the courtyard. When Chen Sheng brought his staff down in that chop, the courtyard fell abruptly silent. The momentum of that movement was too ferocious; instinctively, everyone thought he was using a real blade. Cheng Wu was horrified and hurriedly withdrew his staff. He had attacked first and was too close; dodging was already too late. He could only parry and block.

With a "Pak!", Cheng Wu just barely managed to block Chen Sheng's chop. The two wooden staves collided, and the one in Cheng Wu's hand was actually bent by the impact. Moreover, Cheng Wu's arms had also made a downward motion to dissipate the force, and even then it was bent, showing the immense power. Cheng Wu staggered back two steps, his face turning pale.

In that single exchange just now, he understood clearly: if both sides had been using real blades, that one slash would have cut him down!

Chen Sheng gave him no further chance to react. With a flip of his wrists, the wooden staff in his hand slashed diagonally. Cheng Wu hurriedly blocked, but he hadn't expected that Chen Sheng's move was a feint. Midway through the diagonal slash, the staff was withdrawn and then chopped straight down again, still with ferocious momentum. Cheng Wu's legs had already gone weak. He knew he couldn't dodge this strike. Although what the opponent held was a wooden staff, if this strike landed solidly, his neck would probably be directly smashed broken.

His courage gone and his legs weak, Cheng Wu directly knelt on the ground. Chen Sheng, however, halted his body, lightly tapped the staff on Cheng Wu's neck, and then withdrew it.

Victory and defeat were decided. Chen Sheng couldn't be bothered to exchange pleasantries. He tossed the short staff aside and returned to his seat with a smile.

Qi Erkui's side was utterly silent. Cheng Wu knelt on the ground for a long time without getting up. It was only when the few men who followed him hurried over to help him up that he went back, utterly dejected.

"What did I tell you?" Zhao Jin glanced at Dong Bingfeng with a smile, then carried his long staff and walked into the field.

His long staff was also the length of a long spear, similar to what he had used before. Zhao Jin's build was only slightly taller and stouter than others his age; he didn't look nearly as imposing and eye-catching as Chen Sheng. Qi Erkui turned his head to look at Instructor Song. Instructor Song muttered sullenly: "That big fat one is probably the strongest. This Zhao Jin uses the same weapon as his household servant, so he likely doesn't have any profound skill."