Huayu: Don't force me to be a master

Chapter 115 Fierce Battle

The parking lot is on the second basement level.

Most of the fluorescent tubes were broken, with only a few near the exit still lit, their pale light cutting out a crooked patch of light on the ground.

In the distance, it was pitch black, and the outlines of cars were hidden in the shadows, their headlights like closed eyes.

At that moment, a person was standing not far from Qian Lang.

Strangely enough, Qian Lang could tell at a glance that this thing wasn't human.

--devil!

Qian Lang smiled.

He understood; this was Yamamoto Ichiro's revenge.

But that's how it should be.

That narrow-minded nation will surely retaliate.

"Hey, are you the clown Yamamoto called in?"

Qian Lang called out to him.

"Baka!"

The other person cursed.

Then he moved!

Qian Lang's eyes narrowed.

fast!

stable!

He was running towards him.

Like a vicious wolf.

He made his move.

It wasn't a fancy roundhouse kick, nor was it any kind of flashy move.

It's a straight punch, from the waist to the shoulder, from the shoulder to the fist, the power comes up from the soles of the feet, through the calves, thighs, spine, shoulders, and arms, and finally concentrates on the fist.

There was no sound of air being cut through, because the speed was too fast for sound to keep up.

Qian Lang tilted his head, and his fist grazed past Qian Lang's ear.

The force of the punch swept past Qian Lang's ear like a knife, and the resulting airflow made his hair flutter.

At the same time, his body had already moved.

It's not retreating, it's sticking forward.

The instant his opponent retracted his fist, his left elbow rose and slammed towards his opponent's collarbone.

The man stepped back and used his arm to block.

Elbow and arm collided with a muffled thud that echoed through the parking lot before being quickly swallowed by darkness.

Both of them took half a step back at the same time.

Qian Lang's expression was stern.

"A master soldier!"

"hey-hey!"

The other person laughed, a cruel kind of laugh.

Then he pressed forward again.

This time it wasn't just one punch.

It is a continuous attack.

With his left hand, he chopped at Qian Lang's neck, while his right hand reached for his collar.

This is the most common combination in military combat techniques: the left hand disrupts the opponent's defense, the right hand controls the opponent's body, and then the knee follows up for a fatal blow.

Qian Lang stepped back, turned sideways, and dodged the left hand.

But his right hand was too fast; its five fingers gripped his collar like iron hooks, and a strong force pulled him forward.

At the same time, the man's knee was already raised, heading towards his abdomen.

Qian Lang pressed down with his left hand, pressing down on the other person's knee.

With his right hand, he cut in from the inside and grabbed the other person's wrist that was gripping his collar.

The two people froze in mid-air, like two statues frozen in place.

one second.

two seconds.

"Tap...tap...tap..."

Water was dripping from the pipes overhead, slowly but surely.

Qian Lang suddenly relaxed.

It's not giving up, it's changing tactics.

He lunged forward in the direction the other person was pulling, his body almost touching the other person's, his head slamming forward, his forehead hitting the other person's nose.

The sound was soft but crisp, like snapping a dry twig.

The man loosened his grip.

He took two steps back, covered his nose with his hand, and blood seeped from between his fingers, dripping onto the ground in a strange rhythm with the leaking water pipe.

Qian Lang stood there, panting.

His left arm was numb from the blow, and the spot on his thigh where he was kicked was throbbing with pain.

But he did not retreat, nor did he have time to retreat.

he came!

He charged forward like a cannonball, his right fist aimed straight for Qian Lang's face.

Qian Lang tilted his head, his fist missed, and the wind from the punch grazed his cheek, stinging.

But the man's body didn't stop; he turned around and swept his left elbow across, carrying the momentum of his entire body.

Qian Lang raised his hand to block.

The elbow strike landed on my forearm, the bone hurt so badly it felt like it was going to crack, and a tingling, numb sensation shot from my wrist all the way to my shoulder.

He took a step back.

The man followed.

The right leg swept over, not a high kick, but a low sweep, targeting the side of Qian Lang's knee.

If that kick lands, my knee will be ruined.

Qian Lang raised his leg to dodge, but the man's sweeping leg changed direction midway, turning into a stomp, and kicked Qian Lang in the thigh.

Qian Lang stumbled and almost fell.

He reached out and grabbed the supporting pillar next to him, his palm touching the rough cement surface, which was cool and prickly.

He straightened up, shook his numb left arm, and stood up again.

The other party didn't even give him a chance to catch his breath.

continue!

Qian Lang didn't dodge.

He charged forward to meet the opponent's fist, blocking the opponent's hand with his left arm, and thrusting his right fist straight into the chest.

The man shifted to the side to deflect the force, and Qian Lang's fist struck his ribs with a dull thud, like hitting a drum.

At the same time, the man's hand arrived, slicing Qian Lang's shoulder with a palm strike. His entire arm went numb instantly, as if he had been electrocuted.

The two were almost touching, neither able to move away.

At this distance, there are no fancy moves.

Only the most primal things—strength, speed, and will.

The fluorescent lights overhead flickered a few times, casting the shadows of the two people back and forth like fighting ghosts.

Qian Lang grabbed the other person's arm with his left hand and lifted it from below with his right hand, making a twisting motion.

This is a joint lock, not for fighting, it's for killing.

Who says Bajiquan is only straightforward?

The man's expression changed.

He felt the force, starting from his wrist, climbing up the bone, all the way to his elbow.

He tried desperately to pull his hand away, but Qian Lang's fingers held on like iron clamps, his nails digging into his flesh.

"Click!"

The sound of bones breaking was particularly crisp in the empty parking lot, like someone smashing a cup in a quiet room.

The man's arm hung down at an unnatural angle.

His face turned pale instantly, as pale as the fluorescent light tube above his head.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, trickling down his cheeks and mixing with the blood from his nose.

But he didn't call out.

They didn't refund it.

He gritted his teeth, raised his still-mobile left hand, and chopped it towards Qian Lang's throat.

Qian Lang turned his head to dodge the attack, then kicked him in the chest.

The man stumbled back several steps and crashed into a car. The car lights flashed briefly and then went out, and the siren went off shortly.

He slipped and fell to the ground, leaning against the hood of the car, panting.

My right hand is completely useless; the bone is broken, the tendons are injured, and my whole arm feels like a piece of wood hanging on my body.

He looked up at Qian Lang.

Qian Lang was also looking at him.

The water pipes overhead were still dripping water.

"Tap...tap...tap..." one sound after another, as if counting time.

Qian Lang smiled at him.

Then he took out his phone.

"Hello, is this 110?"

"Murder in the parking lot of XX Building. The perpetrator is a professional hitman. Please come quickly..."

He hung up the phone, took out a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it.

The firelight illuminated his face, flickering.

"You called the police?"

The man looked at him with an incredulous expression.

"nonsense!"

"This is a society governed by law! You're about to kill me, and you won't let me call the police?"

Qian Lang looked at him like he was an idiot.

The man's lips twitched, whether from pain or anger, it was hard to tell.

Then he said something.

"You Chinese people don't have the spirit of Bushido."