Future Masters in Modern Times

Chapter 39: The Joy of Verbal Sparring

It was an unassuming-looking residential house. Like most houses here, it was low-slung and only two stories tall. The area in front of the house had been quiet and deserted, with few visitors. Two rows of cold-hardy plants common in Siberia were planted in front of the house, adding a touch of vitality to the scene. When Sikov and Zhao Wuji arrived, an elderly man was sweeping fallen leaves in front of the house. Holding a broom, he moved slowly, sweeping at the leaves—which seemed almost nonexistent—stroke by stroke, as if indifferent to everything around him. However, when he noticed Zhao Wuji and the others approaching, he glanced their way—seemingly absentmindedly—but his movements slowed slightly. Sikov glanced at the old man, but his pace didn’t slow in the slightest; he took a step forward and walked toward the door of the house. “Huh?” Sikov stopped. A withered hand, resembling a dry twig, reached out to block his path. It was the old man. He propped his broom against his side and watched Sikov warily. “Sir, this is a private residence. May I ask what brings you here?” Sikov suddenly realized something, nodded, and said, “I’m Sikov. I’m here to see Karl.” “Sikov。” The old man’s expression softened, and his wariness subsided considerably, though he cast a few extra glances at Zhao Wuji standing behind Sikov. “Mr. Karl is inside. He told me that if Mr. Sikov came, he should just go right in.” “Oh, thank you.” Sikov gave a friendly smile and walked toward the door. The old man nodded, bent down, and resumed his age-old routine of sweeping the floor. Sikov pushed the door open and led Zhao Wuji into the house. It was very dark inside; not a single ray of light could be seen. The furnishings were extremely sparse; it didn’t look at all like anyone lived there. “Karl is on the international wanted list, so he’s extremely careful about his whereabouts,” Sikov explained to Zhao Wuji as they walked. Zhao Wuji didn’t take it seriously at all. Come on—every prisoner in Lobestan Prison was a globally wanted criminal, yet he could still teach them a lesson whenever he wanted. What was this Karl anyway? He was being way too cautious! He was acting just like a scared little turtle. Even before he’d met Karl, Zhao Wuji already felt a certain disdain for him. The two walked to the corner of a staircase inside the room, where Sikov opened the door to the basement. As soon as they entered the basement, it was pitch black; if it weren’t for Zhao Wuji’s vision, which far surpassed that of the average person, he would have been practically blind in the darkness. “We’re here,” Sikov’s voice rang out in the silence. He stopped and placed his hand on the doorknob ahead. He pushed the door open. A sudden burst of light! Zhao Wuji took a big step forward and entered a room as large as several basketball courts. The room was bathed in light, as bright as day—a far cry from the darkness just moments before. As soon as he entered, he could hear shouts ringing out! These shouts echoed continuously throughout the space, creating an impressive atmosphere. Looking closely, he saw that on the open floor, quite a few people were drenched in sweat as they furiously struck the wooden posts in front of them, over and over again, without a moment’s pause. They were all incredibly muscular, with bare torsos revealing their well-defined muscles, and their hands were each wrapped in layer upon layer of cloth. Among them were white people, black people, and even people of Asian descent. Their expressions varied as well: some wore determined looks, their expressions unchanging as they lifted the wooden posts and kicked them with a loud thud. Others, however, wore expressions of pain; their legs were swollen to the point of gleaming, yet they persisted as if those legs weren’t even their own. Surrounding them were numerous training apparatus, though only a handful of people were using them, and their expressions were relatively relaxed. “That’s right, that’s how you train! Make your legs as hard as iron. Your legs are your axes—chop down every opponent who dares to stand in your way!” A fierce voice bellowed. There stood a man nearly two meters tall with a perfectly proportioned physique, constantly coaching the boxers as they trained. “That’s Karl,” Sikov whispered in Zhao Wuji’s ear. Karl was observing the training of the named boxers when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sikov and Zhao Wuji standing there. “Hey, buddy!” Karl called out to Sikov in a loud, enthusiastic voice. “Hello, Karl,” Sikov said with a smile as he walked over to greet him, and the two exchanged a warm greeting. “This is the Zhao I was telling you about—Zhao Wuji.” After their greetings, Sikov introduced Zhao Wuji to Karl, who smiled once more. “Hello, Zhao, our guest from the East.” Karl’s smile was just as warm as before. Zhao Wuji merely gave a faint smile, shook hands lightly with Karl, and said, “Hello.” A fleeting, barely perceptible hint of displeasure flashed across Karl’s eyes, though he concealed it well. “All right, Karl, you know why I’m here. So, what about the letter of recommendation for my friend?” Sikov got straight to the point and asked Karl. Karl’s smile faded. He paused to consider for a moment, then nodded and said, “Since you’ve asked me, I’ll write this letter of recommendation for Zhao!” After speaking, he glanced at Zhao Wuji, as if sizing up his physical condition, then wore a look of slight disdain. “Sikov, I wonder if your friend has ever undergone systematic training? I think his physical condition is decent, but he doesn’t seem to have any obvious strengths,” he said, habitually running his right hand over his chin as if appraising a piece of merchandise. Zhao Wuji furrowed his brow. “No, my friend hasn’t undergone any systematic training,” Sikov said with a smile, completely unfazed by Karl’s displeased expression. He’d only been slightly skeptical moments ago, but now that Sikov had confirmed Zhao Wuji was practically a novice, Karl was genuinely taken aback. His face turned extremely grim, as if he’d been insulted. His gaze toward Zhao Wuji grew increasingly hostile; in his eyes, Zhao Wuji was practically asking for trouble. Is the Siberian Training Camp open to just anyone? For someone with no systematic training whatsoever to even think of joining the camp—he must think he has too much time on his hands. Although he was reluctant, Karl had no choice but to write this letter of recommendation for Zhao Wuji, because he couldn’t afford to cross Sikov—or, more specifically, the person behind Sikov. For someone like that, crushing him would be as effortless as crushing an ant. He took out a sheet of paper, ready to put pen to paper and write the recommendation letter for Zhao Wuji. “Wait!” Just then, a harsh voice rang out, sounding rather unpleasant. Zhao Wuji narrowed his eyes and looked up—to his surprise, it was a yellow-skinned man from Asia who had spoken up to stop Karl. This man from Asia had just been over by the training equipment; he appeared to be a long-time trainee here. He had been observing the situation the whole time, and when he saw Karl about to write a letter of recommendation for Zhao Wuji, he couldn’t help but speak up to stop him. Sikov looked thoroughly displeased; he hadn’t expected anyone to interrupt their business. At that moment, no one noticed a fleeting glimpse of delight and satisfaction cross Calder’s face; he quickly concealed his expression, instead putting on a furious front as he turned to the Asian man. “Park Yuanxi, shut up! Is this the time for you to butt in?” “Hmm, a Korean?” Zhao Wuji thought to himself, snorting coldly. He was eager to see what tricks this man had up his sleeve. Park Yuanxi remained completely unfazed and shouted, “Coach, we’ve been training day and night so that one day we can enter the Siberian Training Camp, but you’ve given this year’s only recommendation spot to an outsider. I won’t accept this, and I’m sure the others won’t either.” Park Yuanxi flung his arm out, pointing at the other trainees, who all wore equally dissatisfied expressions. Karl seemed to hesitate for a moment, thought it over, then said to Zhao Wuji and Sikov with a troubled expression, “What I’m doing is indeed a bit unfair. After all, they’ve been training day and night just to one day enter the Siberian Training Camp for advanced training. Now, to simply take that opportunity away from them like this seems a bit…” Zhao Wuji had picked up on it—this guy was clearly reluctant to give him that letter of recommendation. What the hell?! This time, Sikov was truly furious. He practically leaped to his feet and exclaimed, “What’s going on, Karl? You promised me this a long time ago. You should know exactly what the consequences are for going back on your word!” Sikov delivered his stern warning, fixing Karl with a piercing glare. Karl was startled, realizing he was playing with fire. Just then, Park Yuanxi stepped forward and fixed his gaze on Zhao Wuji, saying, “You must be from Japan, sir! I’ve long heard of Japan’s karate, and I’d love to see it in action.” With a long laugh, Zhao Wuji looked at Park Yuanxi as if he were a fool. “What are you laughing at?” Park Yuanxi seethed with rage. “I’m laughing because you’re lying through your teeth. I’m clearly a Chinese man, yet you’re insisting on labeling me as a person from Japan. Are you insulting me?” Zhao Wuji’s piercing gaze fixed on Park Yuanxi as he said coldly. “What? A Chinese?” Park Yuanxi was taken aback for a moment, then burst into a wild, mocking laugh. “A Chinese? How dare you presume I’m from Japan! With physiques like yours, you actually dare to dream of entering the Siberian Training Camp? Martial arts—a pastime of superior races—is something you dare to covet? Only we, the Korean people, are truly qualified to practice this art.” Zhao Wuji’s gaze grew even colder. “In that case, get the hell out of here! I was actually planning to spar with you, but now there’s absolutely no need. I can handle ten Huaxia people on my own with ease. If I were to spar with you today, it would only be a disgrace to me. Get out of here, you disgraceful, attention-seeking Huaxia man!” Park Yuanxi looked down on Zhao Wuji as if he were nothing more than a lowly insect. Park Yuanxi didn’t take Zhao Wuji seriously at all; at best, he was a wealthy man with some minor connections, so he wasn’t the least bit concerned about his own safety. Karl’s face went pale; he wanted nothing more than to tear Park Yuanxi to shreds. He had completely derailed Karl’s plan. Originally, Karl had only intended to have him face off against Zhao Wuji—the idea being that a victory would make Zhao Wuji back down. But now? Was this nothing but a one-sided humiliation? “I’m screwed!” Karl screamed inwardly. “Heh heh, congratulations—you’ve successfully provoked my anger,” Zhao Wuji said with a calm smile. “What! … Ugh!” Boom! Zhao Wuji unleashed a punch, accompanied by the howling of air currents, sending Park Yuanxi flying. He didn’t fly out in a parabolic arc—instead, he shot straight up into the ceiling. Blood spattered everywhere, and the thoughts in Park Yuanxi’s mind swirled like turbulent currents, leaving him utterly disoriented. He had never felt this terrible before; his body felt like a torn burlap sack, leaking air from every pore. No! That wasn’t wind at all—it was clearly his own blood! … That was Park Yuanxi’s final thought. Zhao Wuji shot up from the ground, cutting through the air with such speed that it even created a screeching sound from the friction. Boom! Another thunderous punch struck Park Yuanxi, who was falling while coughing up blood. Instantly, his chest caved in sharply while his back arched violently; propelled by the residual force of the heavy punch, he was flung upward once more, a sight of sheer horror. From his mouth spewed even thicker, dark red blood—the kind that could only flow from shattered internal organs. By now, Park Yuanxi had lost consciousness; only the remaining pain receptors in his body were transmitting wave after wave of excruciating pain to him. Even at this moment, he was not yet dead, for Zhao Wuji’s assault was simply too fast and too ferocious. So fast that he didn’t even have time to die. A look of madness flashed in Zhao Wuji’s eyes. He intended to make Park Yuanxi fully experience what pain was during the brief moments before his death; he wanted Park Yuanxi to regret ever being born. This is the fate of those who speak too boldly! Boom! Zhao Wuji, tireless, unleashed one fierce punch after another, each one landing with a heavy thud on Park Yuanxi’s body, which had been reduced to a mass of mangled flesh. The floor was left in complete disarray, turning the once spotless area into a scene of utter chaos. Yet, surprisingly, Park Yuanxi’s body had not disintegrated—a result of Zhao Wuji’s perfect control over his strength. Even so, Park Yuanxi was still clinging to life—for as of now, his head remained intact, enduring what could be described as the ultimate agony in this world. After an unknown amount of time, Park Yuanxi’s body had completely turned into a mass of flesh so rotten it couldn’t get any worse. With a thunderous “boom,” Zhao Wuji crashed heavily to the ground. The ground from which he had repeatedly taken off was already shattered beyond repair, with mud and rocks flying everywhere. With a “thud,” a mangled mass of flesh and blood fell to the ground, sending blood spattering in all directions. Park Yuanxi—the only parts of him still somewhat intact were his limbs and his head. Due to neural reflexes, his limbs were still twitching slightly, and his head was convulsing rhythmically, over and over. A smile played on Zhao Wuji’s face, as if he were a demon sent from hell. “Let me put an end to your life!” Zhao Wuji crushed every inch of bone in his limbs one by one; the creaking sound of bones shattering was utterly chilling. Finally, Zhao Wuji stomped down on his head; like a watermelon shattering, the entire skull burst open in an instant, vanishing without a trace. “Are you satisfied with my power now?” Zhao Wuji looked at Karl with a cold smile, his shoes caked in that viscous, repulsive substance. “You… you…” Karl stammered, at a loss for words. Zhao Wuji, who had seemed so harmless just moments ago, had transformed in the blink of an eye into a demon from hell. This transformation was impossible for him to accept, and the visually jarring, bloody scene was simply too much for him to bear. In a flash, Zhao Wuji appeared right in front of Karl and landed a heavy slap across his face. Karl spun across the ground like a top, rolling more than ten meters away. When he tremblingly tried to get to his feet, he found he simply couldn’t stand up. He could only kneel there, dazed, not daring to look at Zhao Wuji again. “Blah, blah, blah. Asking you to write a letter of recommendation was a sign of respect, yet you dragged your feet like that. Do you really think I need your letter that badly?” “And you lot!” Zhao Wuji scanned the room, his gaze sweeping unabashedly across their faces, yet not a single one dared to meet his eyes—Park Yuanxi was a cautionary tale. “Do you want to compete with me to see if I’m even worthy of this letter of recommendation?” Zhao Wuji’s voice reverberated in their ears, making their legs grow weaker and weaker until they could barely stand. Finally, one of them couldn’t hold on any longer and dropped to his knees with a thud. Once the first one fell, others followed suit, and before long, a large group was kneeling on the ground. Watching them, Zhao Wuji said disdainfully, “That’s not how you kick a wooden post.” He walked up to a wooden post and swept his leg out—as fast as lightning. The wooden post, which had been a solid piece, now looked as if it had been struck by a real axe—the upper half had fallen off cleanly, leaving a Qiqi cross-section. Yet Zhao Wuji looked utterly at ease, as if he hadn’t even moved his leg. Following the same method, over the next dozen or so seconds, Zhao Wuji effortlessly swept his leg through the remaining wooden posts, snapping them in two just as he had done before. This display stunned everyone. He’s the real deal! He’s truly powerful! “Whoever can match my performance will receive my letter of recommendation. So, anyone up for the challenge?” The trainees fell silent, behaving so well it was almost unbelievable. “Very well,” Zhao Wuji nodded. “With your current abilities, going to the Siberian Training Camp would be a suicide mission.” Zhao Wuji glanced at Karl on the floor without saying a word, but Karl, as if receiving some command, struggled quickly to the desk and began writing the recommendation letter with such fluidity that his pen seemed to glide across the paper like flowing clouds and water. Zhao Wuji looked at Sikov with a half-smile. Sikov’s eyes were still vacant, but his mind was filled with a single thought. “Fists—they really are the ultimate truth!”