ragginovel Chapter 40 Years Imprisonment?
Chapter 40 Years Imprisonment?
The scent of death, like a chilling tide, instantly overwhelmed the butcher's senses. His battle-hardened body unleashed its final potential at that moment—he jerked his head back, his neck snapping at an almost broken angle, while his jaw twitched inward desperately, attempting to block the fatal blow with his mandible!
"puff."
A soft sound, like a woodpecker pecking at a tree trunk, rang out. Ma Cong's crane-beak-like fingertips brushed against the butcher's chin and pecked at his Adam's apple.
Time stood still once again.
The butcher's massive body froze in place, held in a bizarre, backward-leaning posture, his eyes wide like saucers, filled with an indescribable, extreme terror. He could feel a needle-like sting on his Adam's apple, a subtle yet incredibly penetrating force traveling through the point of contact into his throat and rushing straight to his brain.
His mind went blank with a buzz, his breath seemed to be cut off, he opened his mouth to breathe but couldn't get in a single sliver of air, he wanted to scream but could only make a hoarse, bellows-like sound from his throat. His vision began to darken, and the strength in his body receded rapidly like a receding tide.
"thump."
The butcher's towering body fell straight backward, crashing heavily to the ground. He clutched his neck with both hands, his body convulsing on the ground like a fish out of water, his face turning bluish-purple from lack of oxygen.
Quiet.
The entire training hall was deathly silent. Everyone was frozen in place, staring blankly at everything that was happening on the field.
He won? That "butcher," who was like a demon god, lost just like that?
If the first match was a coincidence, and the second match was a crushing defeat, then the third match was art—the art of killing.
What Ma Cong displayed from beginning to end completely exceeded their understanding of "fighting". Whether it was the fierce and violent Bajiquan, the strange and agile Bagua, or the final seemingly casual yet deadly Crane Beak, each one was something they had never seen before, and each one represented a higher level of martial arts.
"Gulp."
Someone swallowed hard, breaking the deathly silence of the scene.
"We won...we won..." "Teacher Ma...we won!"
On the Chinese side, a brief silence was followed by deafening cheers! "Teacher Ma is awesome!" "So strong! This is true Chinese martial arts!"
Tank and his team members were flushed with excitement, waving their fists and roaring, releasing their ecstatic joy. The way they looked at Ma Cong was no longer one of awe and worship, but rather an almost godlike gaze!
Shi Lei didn't cheer; he just stared blankly at the young figure in the arena who calmly withdrew his hand, as if he had only done something insignificant. Every scene from just now replayed in his mind over and over again—from the "leading" and "neutralizing" of Bajiquan at the beginning, to the "wandering steps" of Baguazhang later, and then to the "sticky force" of Taiji and the "crane beak" of Baihequan at the end.
He discovered that every style of boxing and every move Master Ma used was intricately connected to the "stance training" and "footwork" they had been practicing over the past few days. Those seemingly simple fundamentals could indeed evolve into such wondrous and powerful combat techniques!
"I understand... I completely understand..." Shi Lei murmured to himself, his eyes even becoming a little moist. He felt ashamed of his previous ignorance and doubt, and also sincerely grateful that he had been able to come into contact with such profound and genuine Chinese martial arts!
On the American side, a gloomy atmosphere prevailed. Their chief instructor, the invincible "Butcher" in their eyes, had been easily defeated in a completely incomprehensible way. For these high-achieving students, this was a blow more painful than death; their pride and confidence were shattered in that instant.
General Zhou and Qin Zhenshan supported each other to avoid falling due to excessive excitement. "We won...we really won..." General Zhou's voice trembled. "One person against three...he really did it..."
Tears streamed down Qin Zhenshan's face: "Chinese martial arts are not dead! Chinese martial arts are not dead!" He looked up to the sky and sighed, his voice filled with endless emotion and relief, as if he could already see Chinese martial arts, under the leadership of this young man, standing tall at the top of the world again.
Several American medics rushed to the scene to provide emergency treatment to the butcher who had collapsed and was convulsing. Ma Cong did not stop them. His "crane peck" strike used the "springing force" from the "inch power" technique. The force exploded only at the moment of contact, penetrating the body and vibrating the butcher's throat nerves and vocal cords, causing temporary suffocation and loss of voice. It looked frightening, but it wouldn't be fatal. He would recover after a few minutes of rest—and that was only because he had held back.
If "hidden force" is used, that force will directly destroy the opponent's throat and central nervous system, which is a true one-hit kill.
He turned around and slowly walked up to General Zhou and Qin Zhenshan: "I have not failed in my mission."
"Great! Great! Great!" General Zhou exclaimed excitedly, patting Ma Cong's shoulder forcefully. "Teacher Ma! You have made a tremendous contribution to the Chinese military and to Chinese martial arts this time!"
"Young friend," Qin Zhenshan wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes, looking at Ma Cong with the eyes of someone looking at a monster, "you...you tell me honestly, how much force did you use just now?"
This is a question that everyone has in mind.
Ma Cong thought for a moment and answered seriously, "If we only consider strength, I probably used about 50% of my power in that match. After all, that big black guy's physical attributes were indeed very strong. But if we include the application of 'internal force'..."
He paused, then held up three fingers: "At most, thirty percent."
"What?!"
Upon hearing this answer, everyone present, whether Chinese or American, felt a buzzing in their heads, as if struck by a heavy hammer. Thirty percent of his power? That godlike performance just now was achieved with only thirty percent of his strength? If he had used his full power, how devastating would it have been?
A tremendous wave of emotion surged through everyone's hearts, and the way they looked at Ma Cong was beyond words.
Ma Cong calmly looked at the American soldiers who were completely terrified and slowly said, "Now, do you see clearly? This is the true Chinese martial arts."