Chapter 94: The Taekwondo Challenge**
Wu Yifan was fast asleep the next morning when a phone call jolted him awake.
"Hello? Who is this? Tang Bao'er? Who the hell is Tang Bao'er? I've heard of Tang Seng, though… Oh? The girl who got spanked? Oh, it's you. What do you want? You wanna get spanked again?"
"..."
"What? A martial arts match? Lady, have you lost your mind? Should we hold some grand martial arts tournament while we're at it? That'd be fun. I'm trying to sleep. Leave me alone, okay?"
"..."
"What? If I don't show up, you'll report me for rape? Ugh, fine. I'm scared. Happy now?"
Wu Yifan hung up, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He mentally cursed the audacious Tang Bao'er a thousand times, but still got dressed and headed to the meeting spot.
Tang Bao'er looked surprisingly normal—no heavy makeup, a simple hairstyle—her youth and vitality shining through. Her figure, though young, was already curvy and graceful, turning heads as she walked. But her eyes still blazed with anger when she saw Wu Yifan, as if she wanted to tear him limb from limb.
"Hey, Lollipop, are you done yet? You're no match for me." Wu Yifan sounded annoyed.
"Prove it. Follow me." Tang Bao'er哼ed, turning toward a side street.
Sighing, Wu Yifan followed. He knew she wouldn't let this go.
**Qingyun Road Taekwondo Dojo, Beitian City**
Wu Yifan stared at the large, well-decorated dojo, unimpressed. *Korean stuff. Half of it's stolen from China or Japan, yet they strut around like they invented martial arts.* He rolled his eyes. *Claiming Li Shizhen was Korean, Genghis Khan too… even saying Chinese characters came from Korean. Pathetic. Tiny country surrounded by military giants, so they lie to feed their inferiority complex.*
"Scared?" Tang Bao'er noticed him staring at the sign, smirking. "Cat got your tongue?"
"Scared? My dictionary doesn't have that word." Wu Yifan stuffed his hands in his pockets, chin up. "I was just being polite. Didn't wanna hurt your feelings." Thanks to his enhancement device, taekwondo might as well be child's play. Even "Seven Stars Fist" or "Meteor Fist" wouldn't faze him.
"You—just wait. You'll regret this." Tang Bao'er's cheeks flushed. She stormed inside, imagining him getting kicked into next week—preferably in the balls.
Wu Yifan touched the "watch" on his wrist, nodded, and followed.
The dojo was impressive: spacious, bright, spotless floors divided into training areas. Students of all ranks practiced kicks and punches, yelling *"Kihap!"* with each move. Taekwondo was popular worldwide, so plenty of Chinese flocked here—even parents with kids, checking it out.
Tang Bao'er scanned the room, then glanced at Wu Yifan,挑衅的 (tiǎoxìn de,挑衅的). "See? Taekwondo's practical, effective. That's why everyone learns it. Still time to run."
"Pfft. Amateur stuff. I could take them all out with one finger." Wu Yifan preened.
"You'll regret those words!" Tang Bao'er fumed.
A man in his mid-twenties, wearing a taekwondo uniform, approached. Handsome, confident, he smiled warmly. "Bao'er? What brings you here?"
Tang Bao'er smiled. "Du Wei, I brought someone to meet you." She shot Wu Yifan a pointed look.
Du Wei finally noticed Wu Yifan, his smile vanishing. Hostility flared in his eyes. He'd liked Tang Bao'er for years, though their social classes kept him from confessing. To him, she was *his*—and this stranger was trespassing. "And you are? What do you do?"
"Du Wei, this jerk's Wu Yifan. He says he's a martial arts master, looks down on taekwondo. I thought you could teach him a lesson." Tang Bao'er explained, eager to see Wu Yifan humiliated.
Wu Yifan's face darkened. *Low blow. I never said that.* He glowered at her.
Du Wei caught her tone, grinning. "Don't worry, Bao'er. I'll show him taekwondo's true power." This was his chance to impress her.
"Actually, taekwondo's okay, I guess. Let's skip the fight." Wu Yifan kept his hands in his pockets, feigning boredom.
"Big talk. Let's see what you've got!" Du Wei's face hardened. Arrogant punks like this needed to be put in their place.
As vice-master of the dojo, Du Wei was no amateur. Taekwondo's global popularity relied on flashy belts and marketing—Tang Bao'er's "4th dan black belt" was mostly a joke, just a way to fleece money. But masters and vice-masters? They had to be legit. Otherwise, the whole scam would fall apart.
Other students and parents turned to watch, curious.
"Vice-master…" A few senior students approached, hesitant.
Du Wei waved them off. "It's fine. I'll demonstrate taekwondo's power for everyone." He puffed out his chest, relishing the attention—especially from Tang Bao'er.
Wu Yifan scoffed. "I retired from fighting, but… seeing a Chinese guy slobber over Korean trash? Disgraceful. I'll teach you what *real* Chinese martial arts are." He turned to Tang Bao'er, voice stern. "I'm just a security guard, but I bleed Chinese blood. I respect our culture. I'll fight—even lose—before bowing to Korean nonsense."
"You…" Tang Bao'er froze. His seriousness caught her off guard. Normally, she'd snap, but something in his eyes—fierce, unyielding—made her nervous. *Am I wrong to root for taekwondo?*
A little boy, 5 or 6, tugged his dad's sleeve. "Daddy, I'm Chinese! I don't wanna learn Korean stuff! I don't wanna be a traitor!"
The dad blushed. "I just wanted you to exercise. There's a Chinese martial arts school next door. Let's go there."
"I don't wanna be a traitor either!"
"I'm Chinese too!"
Other kids chimed in, pulling their parents toward the door. Even current students shifted awkwardly, staring at their feet.
Du Wei's face turned purple. *He's turning them against me!* The dojo's reputation—his livelihood—was crumbling. He pointed at Wu Yifan, voice shaking. "This means war!"
"Fine. For China's honor—I accept." Wu Yifan stood tall, meeting his gaze.
The room fell silent.
A security guard vs. a taekwondo vice-master.
For pride. For country.
The fight was about to begin.