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Chapter 95 - Chapter 95: A Master of Chinese Martial Arts

Chapter 95: A Master of Chinese Martial Arts** 

 

Tension spiked in the taekwondo dojo. 

 

To boost its popularity in China, taekwondo had relaxed some traditions—like requiring shoes off. In Beitian, you only removed your shoes for official matches. 

 

Wu Yifan, radiating confidence, strode into the center without removing his shoes. "We Chinese are a peaceful people; we don't fight without reason. Let's keep this casual. Just a little demonstration to show who's better." 

 

Du Wei doted on Tang Bao'er, would've done anything for her, but today was about taekwondo's honor. If he lost, the dojo's reputation would crumble. He leaned in, whispering, "Bao'er, how good is he, really? I've never heard of him." 

 

Tang Bao'er felt a twinge of dislike for Du Wei, thanks to Wu Yifan's earlier words about national pride. She frowned. "I don't know. He's good at basketball, but martial arts? You'll find out soon enough." 

 

Du Wei's nerves flickered, but he brushed them off. A basketball player? No match for a taekwondo vice-master. He stepped toward Wu Yifan, smiling coldly. "Mr. Wu, shall we begin?" 

 

"Wait," Wu Yifan said. 

 

"Scared?" Du Wei smirked. "Admit defeat, and I'll let you go. No shame in it." 

 

Tang Bao'er and the onlookers held their breath, half-hoping Wu Yifan would back down—half-dreading he would. If he quit, it'd feel like Chinese martial arts had bowed to taekwondo. 

 

Wu Yifan knew Du Wei was skilled—far beyond a street thug. He'd need the enhancement device. Regret pricked him; he'd barely gotten those 12 points. But there was no choice. 

 

"I just don't want you to lose face," Wu Yifan said, preening. "Think carefully. This could get ugly." 

 

"Spare me. I'll knock you out in one move." Du Wei's patience snapped. 

 

"10 enhancement points remaining. Activate agility?" 

 

"Yes." 

 

"Enhancing agility ×3. Durability: 1/1." 

 

"Enhancement successful. Agility ×3. 2 points consumed. 8 points remaining." 

 

A jolt ran through Wu Yifan. His body felt lighter, as if a current of agility surged through him. The world around him seemed to slow, like a movie in slow motion—*again*. He'd experienced this before, so he didn't panic. To him, Du Wei now looked like a pathetic clown. 

 

Du Wei sensed the shift. Wu Yifan exuded a raw, untamed power, making his skin crawl. But pride—and Tang Bao'er's gaze—kept him going. "Hurry up! I have better things to do." 

 

Wu Yifan smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. He nodded at Du Wei, taunting in broken English: "Come on." 

 

Du Wei snapped. Letting out a battle cry, he dropped into a stance, legs coiled like a cheetah's. His right leg blurred into a dozen kicks, each like a steel whip slicing through the air, aimed at Wu Yifan's face. 

 

Gasps erupted. *Wow. Taekwondo's no joke. No wonder it's popular worldwide.* 

 

But to Wu Yifan, the kicks moved like molasses. He dodged lazily, mocking, "Weak. Slow. Aim higher next time." His feet barely moved, shuffling like a timid bride, yet somehow staying one step ahead. The crowd gaped—they could barely track his movements, just a blur of motion, smooth and effortless. 

 

Tang Bao'er's eyes widened. *This is the guy who spanked me?* He was good at basketball, bartending, *and* martial arts? A wave of helplessness washed over her. She'd dreamed of beating him, but this? He was untouchable. 

 

*It's not that I'm bad,* she thought. *He's just… superhuman.* 

 

After ten minutes of nonstop kicks, Du Wei hadn't landed a single hit. Panic set in. He attacked faster, harder, but his breath came in ragged gasps, his face flushed like a ripe tomato. 

 

Wu Yifan's grin widened. "Done? My turn." He lashed out, his hand clamping around Du Wei's incoming foot like a vice. With a flick, he hurled Du Wei across the room. 

 

*CRASH!* 

 

Du Wei slammed into the wall, spitting blood. 

 

"Vice-master!" His students rushed to him, faces pale. They扶着他 (fúzhe tā, propped him up), staring at Wu Yifan in awe and terror. 

 

Silence swallowed the dojo. 

 

Then, the crowd erupted—this time, for Wu Yifan. 

 

"Teach my son! I'll pay anything!" 

"Master! My kid's a fast learner—take him as a disciple!" 

"Please, sir! Show us real Chinese kung fu!" 

 

Tang Bao'er stepped in front of Wu Yifan, arms outstretched like a mother protecting her cub. "Back off! He's with me! We're leaving!" 

 

Du Wei, supported by two students, staggered toward her, voice trembling. "Bao'er, I'm sorry. I didn't know he was this good. Give me another chance. I'll train harder. I'll beat him—" 

 

"Save it." Tang Bao'er's tone was flat. She shot Wu Yifan a glare and stormed out. 

 

Du Wei watched her go, his face darkening. 

 

That man had humiliated him. He'd pay. One way or another.

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