On the stage, Wu Li looked at Zhao Ge, "Am I fighting you next?"
Zhao Ge had a serious expression. When he stepped down from the stage, Gao Bo told him that his whole leg felt numb. Even if it was just for a few minutes, being 'useless' with one leg on the stage was almost equivalent to losing.
"That's right, I'll be fighting you," Zhao Ge nodded.
"After I fight you, there won't be another dozen people waiting for me, right?" Wu Li asked.
A hint of anger flashed in Zhao Ge's eyes, "Win against me first!"
Although he refused to show weakness verbally, Zhao Ge knew clearly in his heart that if even he lost, they would have to notify Ren Donglai to come over today. After all, someone was recording next to them, and if the Eastward Boxing Club won only by a war of attrition today, they would be disgraced if the news spread.
"Come on." Wu Li still looked casual.
The two walked to the center of the stage. Zhao Ge cautiously approached Wu Li, constantly changing his step technique, obviously guarding against Wu Li suddenly attacking with a kick. Although his resistance to hits was stronger than Gao Bo's, he didn't dare to bet that he could definitely withstand it.
Suddenly, Wu Li made his move, extending both arms forward, his fists striking down from above towards Zhao Ge, his momentum as fierce as a tiger descending the mountain.
Zhao Ge didn't meet the attack head on but agilely stepped back, dodging the blow. However, at the same time, without any warning, Wu Li's right leg kicked out, delivering the same piercing kick that had knocked down Gao Bo before.
Striking from above and kicking below, the aim was to confuse his opponent.
However, Zhao Ge, able to serve as a mainstay coach in Ren Donglai's absence to deal with various challengers, was naturally not so easy to deal with. He misstepped once again and dodged Wu Li's attack.
Wu Li felt it was a pity; the level of his piercing kick was still too low. This blow wasn't fast enough; if it were at Master Level or even Master Level, Zhao Ge would have definitely not been able to dodge it.
Taking advantage of Wu Li's right leg still not landing, and his center of gravity unstable, Zhao Ge threw a straight punch towards Wu Li's face.
Wu Li quickly pushed down with both hands, holding down Zhao Ge's arms, stopping the straight punch.
If he hadn't been wearing gloves at that moment, Wu Li could have completely locked the opponent's joint with his hands and then used his fingers to dig, press, pull, and tug; in Xingyi Fist, there is a killing move called Crocodile Tail Cutting that mimics a crocodile biting its prey and then jerking its head to tear the prey apart. At the highest level of this move, one could even tear off the opponent's entire arm after holding it!
Wu Li, of course, hadn't reached that level, but he could at least temporarily numb the opponent's arm, making it lose strength; it was just unfortunate he was wearing gloves, which made these moves impossible to perform.
In Traditional Martial Arts, there are many techniques that involve using fingers to grab, dig, and tear at an opponent, but in modern combat sports, once gloves are worn, none of these can be used, which is an important reason why Traditional Martial Arts don't perform well on modern fighting stages.
After restraining Zhao Ge's straight punch, Wu Li stepped back, creating some distance, his left hand forward and his right hand at his waist, readying himself in a fighting stance.
"Good!"
"Coach Zhao, give it your all!"
"Beat him!"
The brief few seconds of their exchange had just passed, and seeing that Wu Li hadn't gained the upper hand but had instead actively retreated, the crowd below the stage heaved a sigh of relief, at least Zhao Ge could fight with the opponent, and they started cheering him on.
Zhao Ge tentatively stepped forward, and seeing that Wu Li remained unmoved, he suddenly punched towards Wu Li's head.
Wu Li quickly hugged his head with both hands, using his arms to block Brother Zhao's right punch with an upward force.
Brother Zhao felt his right fist hit a spring and uncontrollably bounced upward. Before he could retract it, Wu Li had already leaned in closely, his hands moving from up to down, fiercely striking Brother Zhao's face and head.
Brother Zhao could only try to block with his left arm, but it was ineffective; his nose, mouth, and chest were all grazed by Wu Li's punches.
Swipe! Brother Zhao was knocked backward, his face and chest marked with red, burning pain; he sniffed, realizing that blood was already flowing from his nose.
"Xingyi, Tiger Hugging Head," said Wu Li in a calm voice instead of seizing the chance to continue his assault.
The origin of Tiger Hugging Head should involve both hands tearing downward with force, and if no gloves were worn, Brother Zhao's face would have been badly disfigured, possibly even blinding his eyes.
As the saying goes in Martial Arts circles: "Tai Chi practitioners never leave home for ten years, but Xingyi practitioners can kill in one year!" The dominance of Xingyi Fist was evident.
Brother Zhao wiped the blood off his nose and arms; Wu Li attacked again, still utilizing the Tiger Form with arm-grabbing motions, and swiftly moved in front of Brother Zhao with a leap.
While Brother Zhao was trying to distance himself with a punch, Wu Li followed the direction of the punch, hung onto Brother Zhao's arms, and used the momentum to turn his body, reaching Brother Zhao's right side, then forcefully pushed both hands, causing Brother Zhao to stagger backward and topple over.
"Xingyi, Tiger Roll," the voice of Wu Li came once more.
"Wow!"
The crowd was in uproar. Even a fool could tell that Brother Zhao was no match for this young man — it was like an adult beating a child, pausing to announce each move.
Brother Zhao's face turned bright red, feeling utterly humiliated. After steadying himself, he let out a roar of defiance and charged forward again, only for Wu Li to replicate the exact movements, hugging his head to block Brother Zhao's punch before leaning forward and tearing downward again!
Even though it was the same move, Brother Zhao despairingly realized he could neither dodge nor resist. Wu Li's timing was mature, his strength sufficient, and his skills were far superior — how could he continue fighting?
Crash! Brother Zhao was driven back again; this time his nose was visibly crooked, blood flowing profusely, and fresh blood seeped from his chest.
"I concede," Brother Zhao said bitterly, looking at Wu Li.
The area below was silent; no one expected such an outcome. All the previous challengers had only managed a few rounds at most against Brother Zhao. Professional fighters train hard every day, and the gap between them and amateurs is substantial; now, the strongest Brother Zhao was beaten helplessly by Wu Li. Everyone even wondered if even Ren Donglai if present, could really defeat this young man.
Li Ruqi watched Wu Li on stage, her face filled with excitement. This was her first time watching a fight up close; it was completely different from seeing it on TV or videos. The clash of muscles and the intense atmosphere made her realize that fighting could be so impressive, and that men could be so charismatic!
A single man daring to challenge dozens and then nonchalantly defeating his opponent in front of everyone, rendering the crowd utterly silent, was incredibly cool!
Especially when Wu Li purposely paused after each move to announce its name; even though Li Ruqi knew Wu Li was showing off, she felt he had a grandmaster's presence.
"Does anyone else want to fight?" Wu Li scanned the crowd and asked.
The room fell silent; Brother Zhao sighed and said softly, "Call the Master."
(Seeking recommendation tickets)