Lin Wan smiled lightly, “Lu Zheng, stop teasing Lingling.”
She turned to Jiang Lingling, “Lu Zheng isn’t into fitness for fun.”
“Is he into fighting then?” Jiang Lingling blinked her big eyes, reaching out to touch Lu Zheng’s arm, “It feels soft.”
Lu Zheng flinched, letting out a dry laugh.
This Jiang Lingling was quite pretty, but she seemed vaguely familiar, like a face pieced together from several celebrities.
Lin Wan’s lips curved in amusement. This Jiang Lingling was the girl who’d spoken last in the group chat, coming over to playfully tease Lu Zheng with her questions.
But Lin Wan wasn’t bothered. Competing with Jiang Lingling, she had absolute confidence.
“Jiang Lingling!” Jiang Lingling extended her hand.
“Lu Zheng.” Lu Zheng shook her hand lightly, quickly letting go.
“Wanwan-jie, is Lu Zheng really good?”
Lin Wan nodded, “Better than me, that’s why I asked him to teach me.”
Jiang Lingling seized the chance, “Can you teach me too?”
“Heh!” Lu Zheng gave a dry laugh, “You’ve got no foundation, you wouldn’t pick it up.”
Before Jiang Lingling could say more, Lin Wan cut in, “Alright, let’s head to the fighting area. We’ll warm up, then hit the ring, and you can see my skills.”
Lin Wan led Lu Zheng to the fighting area, with Jiang Lingling trailing eagerly. The trio drew a mix of envious and curious stares, and Lu Zheng could feel a deep resentment.
It was the kind of resentment born of unfair heavens, and Lu Zheng revelled in it.
“Wanwan, who’s this?” asked a man in his thirties.
“Lu Zheng, my friend.”
“Here to practice fighting?”
“Yeah, to teach me.”
“Oh, what?” The man was taken aback.
Lin Wan was a regular in the fighting area, a top-tier fighter just below the gym’s head, sparring evenly with other skilled members. This was the first time she’d mentioned someone teaching her.
Was this for real?
Was she joking?
Passing the man, they reached the ring.
“Want to give it a go?” Lin Wan asked.
The area around the ring was open, with five or six punching bags nearby, a bobble dummy, and even two wooden training dummies that caught Lu Zheng’s eye.
“No need,” Lu Zheng shook his head.
“Then I’ll warm up first.”
Lin Wan smiled, striking poses, slowly stretching, neck circles, arm swings, waist twists, hip presses.
Lu Zheng scanned the surroundings.
A crowd was watching him.
“You into fighting too, mate?” The man from earlier approached.
“Uh, sort of?”
Should he say he practiced martial arts from another ancient world?
“What’s ‘sort of’ mean?” The man, Old Du, eyed Lu Zheng sceptically, “You’re not into taekwondo, are you?”
Taekwondo was widespread in China, often hyped for its combat prowess, but as it came from Korea, some local fight enthusiasts looked down on it.
Seeing Lu Zheng’s fair, calm demeanour, Old Du suspected he was a taekwondo “expert.”
“Nope,” Lu Zheng grinned.
While he wasn’t impressed by taekwondo’s combat claims, its popularity had merits, like clear ranking systems, quick results, and flair.
…
“Old Du!” A booming voice came from behind Lu Zheng. “This the guy Lin Wan brought?”
Lu Zheng turned to see a towering figure striding over.
Over 1.9 metres tall, broad-shouldered, thick-armed, like a human beast. In ancient times, his steps might’ve creaked wooden floors.
Looking up, Lu Zheng took in the man’s face: thick brows, big eyes, square nose, wide mouth, broad cheeks, and a face nearly covered in stubble.
First impression: big, dark, rough!
Pfft!
“Gym Leader!”
“Leader Lü!”
It was Lü Tieling, the club’s owner, a former fight gym head who preferred being called Gym Leader.
“Leader Lü,” Lin Wan greeted, having finished warming up.
“Your friend? Into fighting?” Lü Tieling asked.
“Yeah,” Lin Wan nodded, introducing them. “Lü Tieling, club leader, great guy.”
“Lu Zheng, my friend, trains on his own.”
“Pleasure!” Lü Tieling extended his hand.
Lu Zheng shook it, a normal grip, no testing squeezes.
“What’s your style, Lu? Boxing? Wrestling? Sanda? MMA? Or traditional martial arts?”
“Traditional martial arts, I’d say.”
The *Eighteen Forms of Mountain Bearing* was from the Da Jing Dynasty, still traditional, and his basic sabre techniques were pure Chinese martial arts.
“Really traditional? Forms or mixed with sanda?”
“Mixed with sanda, I suppose.”
“What’s with the ‘suppose’ every time?” Old Du grumbled.
Lin Wan smiled. Even from Lu Zheng’s description yesterday, it was all “sort of,” since he truly trained haphazardly.
“Alright, I’m warmed up. Lu Zheng, let’s hit the ring,” Lin Wan said.
“Cool!”
Lin Wan and Lu Zheng stepped into the ring, while Lü Tieling and Old Du stayed to watch.
Jiang Lingling and other women, some training or learning self-defence, gathered too, along with some guys joining the spectacle.
“Leader, what’s this guy like? Doesn’t look muscular,” someone asked.
“Not quite. He’s got streamlined muscles, not gym-built.”
“Oh?”
“But his build limits his strength. Probably an agility fighter.”
“Got it!”
“Really? How’s he compare to you, Leader?” a woman asked coyly.
Lü Tieling smirked, arms crossed, “No matter how agile, it’s within the same weight class. Ever seen a heavyweight boxer face a lightweight?”
His massive arms and bulging pecs made the woman swallow hard.
…
In the ring, Lu Zheng and Lin Wan donned fingerless gloves and helmets.
Though they didn’t need protective gear, safety rules applied, and they complied.
“I’m ready,” Lu Zheng nodded.
“Hah!”
Lin Wan let out a sharp cry, swinging her leg to kick at Lu Zheng’s knee.
