A Subtle Display of Skill?

In the days that followed, Chen Jue adhered to a strict routine of training, working out to boost his attributes, and ending each night by watching an episode of Martial Legends to broaden his horizons. Meanwhile, the new weighted vest, electronic scale, and copper rods for practicing body conditioning, which he had ordered online, began to arrive one after another.

Once his free attribute points accumulated to 0.41, Chen Jue forced another level-up in the Shaolin Body Conditioning Technique. As before, advancing from Lv1 to Lv2 triggered a prerequisite restriction. Fortunately, the copper rods had arrived, so Chen Jue began striking every part of his body he could reach, spending an hour to break through the barrier and successfully raise the art to Lv2.

At level two, his skin, muscles, and fascia grew even tougher. When channeling his internal energy, his whole body took on a bluish-bronze sheen, resembling a living bronze statue from afar. With his constitution and strength greatly enhanced, Chen Jue couldn’t help but speculate whether the legendary Eighteen Bronze Men of Shaolin were originally like this—body hardened to iron by mastery of body conditioning, skin tinted with a bluish hue—rather than the shimmering, gold-painted, oil-slicked figures from film and television. Bronze men, not golden men! The former is reality, the latter mere spectacle.

Continuous training and watching related documentaries had opened Chen Jue’s mind; many things that once puzzled him now made perfect sense. This was the sign that his martial arts had reached a threshold—he was beginning to gain a touch of self-taught mastery.

Player: Chen Jue
Age: 27
Health Index: 99%
Strength: 1.67
Agility: 1.21
Intelligence: 1.23
Constitution: 1.98
Skills Acquired: omitted
Free Attribute Points: 0.22

With the arrival of new fitness equipment and weighted gear, plus the use of Strength Pills, both his strength and agility had soared in the past few days. Of course, such a high-intensity training regimen was only sustainable thanks to the perfected Boy’s Skill he practiced. No matter how exhausted he was at the end of the day, he would wake the next morning refreshed and vigorous, like the rising sun. Without the buff granted by this skill, it would have been nearly impossible to make such rapid progress in so short a time.

On this particular morning, Chen Jue broke his usual habit of training at the reservoir, opting instead to practice the Twelve Forms of Tendon Transformation at home, stretching and relaxing his body to maintain peak condition. Then he set out to Linjia Village for breakfast, transferred to a minivan and bus, and made his way to Taoxian Village.

Today was the scheduled day for the exchange event with Commissar Yao, so Chen Jue headed straight for the encampment of the XX Regiment.

At the gate, the sentry saw Chen Jue in his athletic attire, noted his striking presence, and quickly stopped him for questioning. Upon learning he was there for the exchange, the guard had him register at the gatehouse and notified someone inside.

Soon, a crew-cut man in camouflage drove over. “You must be Comrade Chen Jue? My surname is Zou, I’m the regiment’s hand-to-hand combat instructor. Commissar Yao is a bit busy right now, entertaining the county TV station staff. Come with me to the event hall and have a seat.”

Instructor Zou sized up Chen Jue, finding him even younger in person than in the videos. He didn’t dare underestimate this civilian expert, though, and greeted him warmly with a handshake.

“Hello, Instructor Zou! I look forward to your guidance!” Chen Jue nodded and extended his hand. The instant their hands met, he felt the thick calluses—clearly the mark of someone trained in external martial arts.

They climbed into the jeep and drove slowly into the base. On the way, Instructor Zou introduced his family’s martial art, Tongbei Boxing—a northern style with many branches, though he himself focused on military combat techniques. Chen Jue casually mentioned his own practice, and when Zou learned it was Chuan Boxing, he was surprised. “What a coincidence! One of the martial arts experts from the sports bureau invited today also practices Chuan Boxing!”

“Really?” Chen Jue was taken aback. It seemed he’d run into a fellow practitioner by chance—an unexpected and delightful surprise.

Through Zou, Chen Jue also learned more about the participants: there would be a taekwondo black belt, a provincial sanda champion, a national martial arts runner-up, an inheritor of an intangible heritage style, and so on—eight in total including himself. Of these, Chen Jue was the only one without a title; if not for Commissar Yao’s invitation, he likely wouldn’t have qualified.

The jeep arrived at the event venue, a large covered parade ground packed with soldiers—at least a thousand strong. TV crews were already filming, and the atmosphere was electric. Instructor Zou handed Chen Jue an event badge and led him to his reserved seat.

Arriving a bit late, Chen Jue found the seats near the stage already filled: some in taekwondo uniforms, some in traditional martial attire, others in sanda gear, while Chen Jue alone wore a plain Li Ning tracksuit. Several neighboring participants eyed him curiously, noting his unfamiliar face—clearly not a member of the local martial arts circle, which in Wen City was quite small and close-knit. By comparison, Chen Jue was a true outsider.

To his surprise, he recognized Master Li from the Chuan Boxing instructional video among the participants! He had once considered reaching out to Master Li for a lesson, having found his contact in the video description, but fate had brought them together here unexpectedly. Master Li looked older than in the video, evidence of time passed since its recording.

“Could this be the Chuan Boxing expert from the sports bureau that Instructor Zou mentioned?” Chen Jue wondered, observing the man’s dignified demeanor—a clear sign of someone employed within the system.

The exchange event was meticulously organized—no free-for-all brawling allowed. That would be street fighting, not formal exchange. As an unknown, Chen Jue sat quietly at the end of the row, watching the TV crew flit about, setting up equipment like butterflies among flowers.

When the event began, the regiment leaders took the stage to introduce the eight experts. During this, Chen Jue finally glimpsed Commissar Yao—a square-jawed, six-foot-tall man with deeply tanned skin and a commanding air.

Once the speeches were done, the civilian masters and three regiment instructors were invited onstage to each demonstrate a martial routine or combat technique—the first showcase of the event, just as outlined in the program sent to Chen Jue.

In terms of spectacle, the taekwondo black belt was the highlight. This master, surnamed Xie, in his early forties, took the stage with two disciples, performing a dynamic display of taekwondo kicks, culminating in an airborne spinning kick that shattered a thick wooden board—an impressive feat that drew cheers from the assembled soldiers.

Chen Jue nodded in appreciation. He believed he could match, or even surpass, such feats of athleticism.

The other experts took turns, each performing a powerful martial routine, or demonstrating techniques with a partner, earning rounds of applause.

Master Li also took the stage, demonstrating Chuan Boxing and Eight Immortals Stance with vigor—his movements even more fluid and masterful than in the teaching video, clearly the mark of daily practice.

Finally, it was Chen Jue’s turn. Thousands of eyes turned to him—the only one in plain sportswear, a stark contrast to the more flamboyant performers before.

Meeting their gazes, Chen Jue chose not to perform his signature Chuan Boxing. Instead, he asked the staff to bring up a standing punching bag. He felt the bag’s firmness, estimated its weight, then turned to the audience and, with a courteous clasp of his fists, announced, “I am but a humble student; permit me a modest display. Please offer your guidance!”

The crowd assumed he would demonstrate a sanda routine like the previous champion, paying little attention at first. But as Chen Jue exhaled and planted himself in the Eight Immortals Stance, his pale skin suddenly took on an eerie bluish-bronze hue.

Then, with a sudden stomp that made the stage tremble, he strode forward and unleashed a punch.

Boom!

It was as if a grenade had detonated in the hall. The punching bag’s surface split open with a bang. Sand burst from the rupture, dust flying everywhere. The two- to three-hundred-pound standing bag shot six or seven meters across the stage before crashing to the ground.

“Wha—t—!”