044 stood alone against two adversaries.

The martial arts competition proceeded in an orderly fashion, drawing excited exclamations from the audience below, who found the event thrilling and captivating. Sanda, grappling, military combat techniques, as well as jujitsu, taekwondo, and traditional boxing styles appeared one after another, dazzling the onlookers and offering a true feast for the eyes.

After the first round, only six participants advanced to the second. Three matches were arranged, and once again, Chen Jue was purposefully scheduled for the final bout. However, this time, his opponent was not a folk martial arts master, but rather the very Instructor Zou who had led him in that morning.

"Comrade Chen Jue, please instruct me!" On the platform, Instructor Zou assumed a combat-ready stance, hands crossed before him, eyes fixed on Chen Jue.

Earlier that morning, Chen Jue had already learned that his opponent had once practiced a family style of Tongbei boxing, but had since turned to the more efficient, fast-track military combat arts—a fact that made Chen Jue sigh at the decline of traditional martial arts, even those passed down through generations.

"Instructor Zou! Be careful!" Chen Jue cupped his fists in salute, then immediately inhaled and lunged forward in an archer’s stance, his body shooting out like a loosed arrow, covering five or six meters in a blink. His movement was astonishingly swift; fists clenched, body leaning forward, balancing on a single leg as his fists, one after the other, struck toward Zou’s face.

This was “Li Zhu Iron Crutch,” a technique from Chuan Boxing, which mimicked swinging a pair of iron crutches overhead, borrowing the momentum of the body’s forward pitch to add weight to the blows. The staggered timing of the fists meant that even if the first could be blocked, the second might still land.

Instructor Zou’s eyelids twitched wildly at the sight, recalling Chen Jue’s sandbag-shattering punch from the morning, and hurriedly raised his hands to defend.

Bang! Bang!

Their fists and palms collided, and Zou felt as if he had struck steel; a tingling numbness shot through his hands. Fortunately, Chen Jue had held back, using only about thirty percent of his strength, mindful not to injure his fellow soldiers whom he regarded with deep respect. Even so, the strength behind his blows was formidable—enough to break bones or tear tendons, had he not restrained himself.

Zou winced, his palms stinging as if shocked by electricity. He withdrew his hands with lightning speed, twisted his waist, and launched a side kick—his strongest technique.

Yet, before his kick could connect, Chen Jue shifted with a sidestep, suddenly appearing at Zou’s left. Zou’s leg struck empty air as Chen Jue seized his left arm.

The soldiers below gasped at the incredible scene: Chen Jue, having caught Zou’s left arm, spun in place and, like swinging a hammer throw, hurled the off-balance instructor clear off the platform.

A man weighing over a hundred pounds was tossed five or six meters with ease. While it may not have matched the morning’s jaw-dropping punch, it was more than enough to astonish everyone present.

Zou landed in a diving posture on the mat below the platform, sliding to a halt on the floor. Fortunately, the drop was not high—only about half a meter—so he emerged largely unscathed.

Zou’s left arm, having been swung like a hammer throw, suffered a slight sprain but not a dislocation; a week’s application of medicated ointment from the military doctor would see it healed.

Recognizing that Chen Jue had shown mercy, Instructor Zou looked up gratefully at him. "Thank you, Comrade Chen Jue! I concede!"

Chen Jue smiled and nodded. "Acknowledged." Then, amid the soldiers’ enthusiastic applause, he stepped down from the ring.

…

By the end of the second round, only three remained: Chen Jue, Li Xiangning, and a young soldier. This young man had been last year’s hand-to-hand champion in the regiment, even more vigorous and robust than the three instructors.

While observing earlier, Chen Jue noticed traces of proper boxing techniques in this young man’s style, though he couldn’t pinpoint their origin—clearly, they surpassed basic military combat skills.

With just three left, the traditional head-to-head format was impractical, and after successive matches, the two others were visibly fatigued. Seeing the host, Commissar Yao, hesitate, Chen Jue stepped forward. "Commissar Yao, for the final round, allow me to face both of them at once."

Yao’s interest was piqued. "Are you sure, Comrade Chen Jue? Two against one is no easy task."

But recalling Chen Jue’s extraordinary skills and easy victories, Yao agreed, provided the other two consented, knowing that martial artists could be proud and quick-tempered.

Both Master Li and the young soldier, understanding they were no match one-on-one, agreed to team up.

When Commissar Yao announced the arrangement, the excitement among the soldiers soared.

"One against two?"

"I’ve only seen instructors do that when training recruits—who’d have thought a competition would turn out like this!"

"You think that Zhou Gang can beat Chen Jue?"

"I doubt it; otherwise he wouldn’t have agreed to a two-on-one!"

As the crowd buzzed, Chen Jue waited until his opponents had fully recovered, then joined them on the platform. Feeling sufficiently warmed up, he shed his Li-Ning tracksuit jacket to reveal a black compression vest underneath.

His fair skin, with a rosy tint, stood in sharp contrast to the dark vest, drawing gasps from the audience. Even the female staff from the television station, invited as guests, watched with unconcealed admiration.

Across from him, Li Xiangning and the young soldier named Zhou Gang grew solemn as Chen Jue removed his jacket, recognizing he was ready to get serious. They exchanged a few quiet words and positioned themselves on either side of Chen Jue, preparing to attack from both directions.

"Master Li, comrade, please instruct me!"

"Please!"

The three saluted and then Master Li struck first. He planted himself in the Eight Immortals stance, legs bouncing, body swaying as if walking on a boat, his fists flashing out with explosive force—two sharp cracks echoing as he launched a direct assault.

Chen Jue inhaled deeply, sending his breath to his dantian, and activated the Shaolin body conditioning technique. Veins bulged under his skin, which, normally pale and flushed, now took on a bluish, iron-like sheen. He met Li’s Eight Immortals stance with the same, swinging his fists to collide with Li’s own.

The impact resounded with crisp, powerful blows. Li Xiangning quickly realized that Chen Jue’s fists were unnaturally hard and his strength vastly superior. After just two exchanges, his hands ached so badly that he shifted tactics, adopting the evasive Drunken Eight Immortals footwork, circling Chen Jue and striking with open palms.

At this moment, Zhou Gang, who had hung back, saw an opening and lunged in with an arcing blow—its momentum formidable.

"That’s… a direct force technique, a move from Hong Boxing!"

The thought flashed through Chen Jue’s mind, recalling what he’d seen in the martial arts documentaries. Spreading his arms, he blocked Li’s strike with one hand and met Zhou’s attack with the other, colliding forearm to forearm.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Their arms clashed with ringing force. Sweat flew, heat rose, and Zhou Gang felt as if he’d struck an iron bar rather than a human arm—a sharp pain racing up his limbs. He realized that even sparring with elders at home had never hurt like this.

After four exchanges, Zhou retreated, unable to bear the pain, intending to recover his composure.

Chen Jue closed the distance with a few quick steps, withdrew his left hand from Li’s attack, and took two palm strikes from Li head-on using the Shaolin body conditioning technique. He then lunged at Zhou, delivering a double-handed push—“Plucking and Presenting Flowers” from Chuan Boxing—sending the unsuspecting Zhou flying off the ring.

Turning swiftly, chest out, Chen Jue received another punch from Li with a resounding thud. In the same instant, he seized Li by the shoulders, lifted him up, and tossed him off the platform as well.

The entire encounter lasted only seconds, but to the soldiers watching below, engrossed in the spectacle, it was as if two children had tried to take on an adult—only for the adult, with a mere display of power, to subdue them both with ease.