Chapter 053: Chinese Martial Arts vs. Taekwondo

Xu Jiaqi led a group of people outside, where a temporary stage had already been set up on the field with wooden planks. Onstage stood a beautiful girl with a hint of mixed heritage in her features, wearing a figure-hugging martial arts uniform. Yet, she hadn’t put it on properly; instead, it was draped across her chest, the sleeves knotted at her bust, giving her a provocatively alluring look that drew frequent whistles from the crowd below.

“What’s this all about?” Li Huan was witnessing such a martial arts uniform for the first time and was rather puzzled. Normally, at events like these, students majoring in Arts or Hosting would be invited to preside, and this girl didn’t quite fit that mold.

“She’s my cousin—mainly, I came today to keep her company,” Xu Jiaqi said, rubbing his forehead. Clearly, he found his cousin somewhat of a handful.

The girl’s Mandarin was flawless; she bounced with energy and kept the atmosphere lively. Each time she reached up to tighten the loosened knot at her chest, the sight of her soft, fair curves pressed together sent a shockwave through the crowd, prompting a chorus of wild, guttural cheers.

The exhibition matches began quickly. First, a group of male students came onstage, shouting and performing a set of routines, which drew only muted reactions. The real excitement ignited when the female students took the stage; after all, the majority of the audience were young men.

Next came the live weapon demonstrations. A few skilled performers brandished swords, spears, and staves, each showing off their martial prowess in a display that captured everyone’s attention. When it was Li Huan’s turn to take the stage, the club members below erupted in applause.

Li Huan was known in the club as an easygoing, well-respected senior. He never put on airs despite being the deputy head, and his abilities had won everyone’s sincere admiration. Seeing the members on both sides of the stage cheering him on, Li Huan smiled. As his gaze happened to sweep over to Su Dieyi, he noticed that, in his absence, Xu Jiaqi had sidled up beside her and was now animatedly boasting about something, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Bastard!” Li Huan cursed silently. Then, seeing a member across from him set up three targets, he smiled, saluted the crowd with a fist-and-palm gesture, and reached into his belt for a throwing knife. With a sharp flick, he sent it whistling straight into the bullseye.

There was little fanfare, but the sight left the audience dumbstruck. This was exactly the effect Li Huan wanted. Without waiting for a reaction, he sent out two more knives in quick succession, both landing precisely in the same bullseye. All three knife tips were clustered together, an accuracy that left everyone in awe.

It took a good seven or eight seconds before the crowd finally erupted into applause. Many began shouting encouragement, and someone even suggested Li Huan should try the legendary “blindfolded human target” trick.

“Not a bad suggestion. Brother, how about you come up and let me try it on you?” Li Huan said, grinning as he twirled the knife in his hand.

The guy, who had only been stirring the crowd, quickly waved his hands and shrank back, drawing laughter and friendly jeers from those around him.

Li Huan turned back, now holding three more throwing knives. Fixing his gaze on the three targets ahead, he called out, “Watch closely, everyone. If I don’t hit all three, don’t laugh at me. If I do hit someone by accident, remember to ask our club president to cover your medical bills!”

His words sent a wave of laughter through the crowd, though everyone instinctively took a step back—this was no joke. Of course, Li Huan was only kidding; at a school event, real weapons were forbidden. His throwing knives weren’t sharpened, and hitting the target required pure wrist strength. If they had been real, the club would have been shut down long ago.

Throwing unsharpened knives and hitting the bullseye is no small feat—managing three at once is even harder. The corners of Li Huan’s mouth curled in a confident smile. With a sharp flick of his wrist, the three knives flew out in a flash of sunlight, their metallic gleam dazzling the eye. Three crisp thuds later, all three were embedded in the targets, each perfectly centered in the bullseye.

The applause exploded like thunder. Li Huan smiled, walked over to retrieve the six knives, and held them up for everyone to see. “Take a good look—none of these knives are sharp!”

At first, the performance had left everyone too stunned to react, but realization soon dawned. The applause surged anew, lasting a full minute before it finally subsided.

“That guy just loves to show off. He’s a real closet exhibitionist,” Xu Jiaqi muttered, rolling his eyes at Li Huan onstage, then turning to badmouth him to Su Dieyi.

“I don’t think so—he really is amazing!” Su Dieyi replied, not picking up on Xu Jiaqi’s jealous tone, clapping enthusiastically and leaving Xu Jiaqi looking rather embarrassed.

With the two exhibition matches finished, the third round began: the real martial arts contest, featuring veteran members of the club, all highly skilled. The first group had just finished their bout when suddenly, commotion erupted outside the crowd. Looking back, they saw Park Jung-ho, president of the Taekwondo Club, swaggering over with a group of students.

“So this is the level of your martial arts club? Frankly, it’s pretty unimpressive!” Park Jung-ho’s walk was a little awkward, but it didn’t seem to have affected his ability to procreate. His tone remained as arrogant as ever.

“What’s it to you?” a club member snapped, stepping forward to block Park’s path.

“Hmph. Chinese martial arts have long since fallen into decline—even your own people don’t want to learn them anymore. What’s the point of these performances?” Park was clearly irked. He had wanted to bring his entire club, but most had declined to come, leaving only a few by his side. Still, he showed no sign of backing down.

“Your Korean Taekwondo is just for show anyway. You might as well take up dancing!” The retort came from the strikingly beautiful hostess from earlier, who, standing at nearly 1.75 meters, towered over Park and radiated an imposing presence.

Confronted by a glamorous woman with a generous bust, Park’s eyes lit up. He couldn’t help but glance at her chest, unconsciously licking his lips.

“Pervert! Where are you looking? Careful you don’t end up with hemorrhoids!” Li Huan was momentarily taken aback—he couldn’t quite see the connection between ogling a girl’s chest and getting hemorrhoids. But it was clear that Xu Jiaqi’s mixed-blood cousin was not to be trifled with; her words left Park’s face red with humiliation.

“Looking for trouble, are you?” Park retorted, his anger overcoming his interest.

“Something’s wrong with your head. You want trouble? Your whole family wants trouble!” The mixed-blood beauty, having spent some time in China, had mastered a number of classic insults.

At this point, Xu Jiaqi stepped forward—after all, as the club president, it was his role to intervene. “Park Jung-ho, here to stir up trouble again?”

“Hmph. We Koreans are a highly cultured people. I’m only here to spar a little—you can’t say I’m causing trouble,” Park declared righteously, though his intentions were plain.

At his claim about Koreans being “cultured,” many in the crowd burst out laughing. The notion of Korean or certain other nations possessing superior civility was always met with a special kind of disbelief, and it took courage to say such things with a straight face.

“Oh, really?” Xu Jiaqi narrowed his eyes. Though he had a scholarly air, he was proud at heart and stared coldly at Park. “If that’s the case, we’ll be happy to oblige. Since you’re the president of the Taekwondo Club and I lead the Martial Arts Club, why don’t we have a match ourselves?”

Park shot Xu Jiaqi a contemptuous look and waved his hand dismissively. “No need. I’ll have my members challenge yours. I hear you have a student named Li Huan who’s supposed to be quite skilled—let them face off.”

Hearing this, Li Huan realized Park was targeting him directly. He knew there’d be no avoiding it, so he stepped forward and said, “Want to spar with me? Honestly, I’m only average in our club. If you lose, don’t claim we bullied you!”

“Hmph. We’ll see who wins!” Park replied, brimming with confidence. The challenger he’d brought was not one of his own students, but a friend from Korea—a fourth-degree black belt and a fighter Park himself couldn’t beat. In his eyes, with this friend, crushing the martial arts club would be child’s play.

Xu Jiaqi sensed something was off and shot Li Huan a warning look, but seeing Li Huan nod slightly, he stepped aside to let things proceed.

Park turned and said a few words in Korean to a short-haired man behind him. The man responded with a cold sneer, gave Li Huan a disdainful once-over, and strode onto the stage, beckoning him forward.

The audience erupted in wild excitement. They’d all heard rumors of the rivalry between the two clubs, but never expected to witness an actual showdown. The prospect was electrifying.

Li Huan stood onstage, calm and composed. Seeing his opponent strike a flashy pose, he smiled faintly and crooked a single finger in open challenge.

Kim Ji-hoon bristled at Li Huan’s gesture, the muscles at the corner of his mouth twitching. No one had ever dared taunt him like that before. With a loud shout, he leapt into the air, body spinning, right leg sweeping toward Li Huan’s head.

The crowd gasped in alarm, anxious for Li Huan. This was home turf, and seeing a Korean act so cocky was intolerable—they desperately wanted Li Huan to send these challengers sprawling.

To their dismay, Li Huan seemed frozen, as if paralyzed by fear. Just as Kim Ji-hoon’s foot was about to strike, Li Huan suddenly shifted, stepping back only half a step to dodge the attack, then countered with a swift punch, landing square on the sole of Kim’s foot.