Chapter 105 – The Venerable Eagle-Claw General (Part Two)

As the two figures darted across the courtyard, their fists colliding in a rhythmic dance, it became increasingly difficult to discern who held the upper hand. Only then did I begin to shed my dismissive attitude toward Fu Huiran. It turned out that the "Eight Young Masters of the Capital" were not as hollow as I had imagined; at the very least, based on his exchange with Fu Ming, his combat skills were undeniably impressive.

What surprised me even more, however, was Fu Ming. I never expected that such a young, demure, and beautiful girl would be as formidable as her brothers had described. The graceful, mid-air eagle claw technique she used to strike at Fu Huiran was proof enough of her mastery.

Although they were evenly matched for the moment, I could see that Fu Huiran was slightly inferior. Fu Ming’s execution of the Eagle Claw Style was far more profound, while the techniques Fu Huiran occasionally borrowed from other schools proved ineffective. I chuckled softly, knowing the outcome was already decided; the rest of the bout held little suspense.

Old Master Fu, noticing my sudden smile, asked with a grin, "What is it? Have you already determined the winner?"

I was tempted to offer a modest disclaimer, but recalling the cold, dismissive look he had given me upon our first meeting, a streak of pride flared within me. "Judging by the current situation," I replied, "Fu Ming has already secured the victory."

"Oh? And what is your basis for such a claim?" Old Master Fu looked surprised, though he quickly regained his composure and added with a faint smile, "Don't tell me this conclusion is just a wild guess."

His words rubbed me the wrong way. A "wild guess"? It seemed that despite his military background, the old man had spent too much time in the bureaucratic circles; he had become a snob, looking down on me as some insignificant nobody. For the sake of my own dignity, I had to make him sit up and take notice. I retorted coldly, "Fu Ming’s Eagle Claw Style is so refined it must be the result of over a decade of practice. Fu Huiran, on the other hand, relies on a flashy variety of moves that remain clearly unpolished. Whenever they clash, his lack of foundation leaves him at a disadvantage. Over time, how could he possibly avoid defeat?"

Old Master Fu was visibly stunned by my answer. I shot him a smug look—it felt good to catch him off guard. Let’s see if he dares to underestimate me again.

"You know martial arts? It’s rare for a young man to recognize the Eagle Claw Style. Who exactly are you?" The old man regained his composure, finally looking at me with genuine scrutiny.

"I know a bit of martial arts, but I am self-taught. I have no master and no backing. Old Master Fu, the Eagle Claw Style is a legendary martial art; I simply happened to read about it in books." I knew the old man was becoming wary; in the martial arts world, learning techniques from other schools without an apprenticeship was considered a grave taboo.

"I see. I didn't realize you were so interested in martial arts. Very well, since Fu Huiran is no match for Ming'er, why don't you step in and spar with her?" Perhaps Old Master Fu wanted to test my background by having me face her. It was a clever strategy: if I used a single, consistent style, I would be exposed as a trained disciple of a specific school, proving my earlier claim of being self-taught a lie. But if I were truly self-taught, my techniques would likely be a haphazard mix of various styles. His method was undeniably effective.

With a wave of his hand, he ordered Fu Huiran to step down. That fellow, already overwhelmed by Fu Ming, was only too happy to comply. When I stepped in as his replacement, the onlookers stared with shock and disbelief.

"I never realized you were so skilled. Ha, I suppose my concern for you on the bus was just me being overly sentimental." I offered Fu Ming an awkward smile. "Your grandfather asked me to spar with you, but let’s agree to keep things friendly."

"Grandfather, are you mistaken? Xiao Qiang doesn't know martial arts! What if he gets hurt?" Fu Ming looked at her grandfather, her eyes wide with concern.

"Mistake? Your opponent is this young man. Ming'er, don't forget what you said earlier. I think this lad is quite exceptional; he's worth considering." For some reason, when Old Master Fu said this, a chill ran down my spine.

At his words, Fu Ming’s delicate, pretty face flushed bright red. Before I could grasp what she had said previously, she smoothed her skirt, shot me a look full of hidden meaning, and whispered, "Fine, let's spar then. Xiao Qiang, you’d better be careful to dodge—I’ll try to hold back."

What was that? Did she think I was that useless? Her words ignited my male pride. Being talked down to by a girl was an insult to my very existence. Who was I? I was Xiao Qiang, reborn! I simply cupped my hands and said, "Senior Sister Fu Ming, don't worry about me. Come at me with everything you've got."

Just then, I noticed Fu Ming’s mother and Chu Qitong standing at the entrance. The panicked look on the mother’s face contrasted sharply with the amused, knowing smile on Chu Qitong’s, leaving me feeling rather stifled. That girl—just because I had shown her a glimpse of my skills once, she was already treating this like a show.

"Dummy, where are you looking? I'm going to strike, you fool!" Seeing my gaze drift toward Chu Qitong, Fu Ming scolded me. I was truly annoyed—did she have to call me a fool? Still, the shy blush on her face when she did so was undeniably beautiful.

As I fantasized, Fu Ming let out a soft cry and launched an attack, clearly moving in slow motion. I met her move, deliberately using a casual technique to parry. The entire Fu family audience seemed to be watching a slow-motion replay as we traded blows with agonizing deliberation. This wasn't a spar... it was a dance.

"Are you two playing house? Do you need me to come over and break your bones? Pick up the pace!" Old Master Fu’s impatient voice finally broke the tension. This was exactly what I wanted; through our slow-motion exchange, I was certain the old man had seen the diversity of my moves, effectively clearing me of the accusation of stealing martial arts.

"Come on, Senior Sister Fu Ming. Give it your all. If I can't handle it, your grandfather is right here to guide us. Don't be afraid." I beckoned her with a smile. The goal was achieved; it was time to get serious.

"Fine. If it’s Grandfather’s order, I have no choice. I'll go all out. If you can't take it, hide behind him and I’ll stop." As Fu Ming nervously urged me to watch my safety, I felt a headache coming on. If I didn't show them what I was made of, I’d be looked down upon by the entire Fu family forever.

I nodded and replied, "Understood. You should be careful too—don't force yourself if you can't parry."

My tone was sincere and serious, but to Fu Ming, it clearly sounded like a joke; she actually burst into a laugh. It seemed that without a real display of strength, there was simply no getting through to them.