Chapter Forty: The Boat Capsizes in the Gutter!

Chapter Forty: Capsized in the Gutter!

Years of reading countless wuxia novels had taught Tang Zhong that in every era, the “Number One Expert Under Heaven” is always beset by challengers. Everyone knows perfectly well: if you defeat Sakyamuni, you become the Buddha; if you topple the number one, you become the new number one. It’s the highest rung on the ladder, the grandest stage for fame and fortune, and countless heroes, scoundrels, ruffians, and thieves flock to it.

Statistics show that thirty percent of those who hold the title “Number One” fall at the hands of nobodies—what we often call “capsizing your boat in the gutter.”

Why do they capsize in the gutter? Because too many small fry are eyeing them. Kill one, and there’s a line waiting behind. It’s maddening and impossible to guard against.

Tang Zhong had no intention of becoming an NPC in a video game that others could “level up” by defeating—he wasn’t some non-player character who could respawn at full health after death, with endless chances to start over.

Tong Shangwu was his first challenger, and he hoped he’d be the last.

That was why Tang Zhong’s response was so ruthless.

He had to be ruthless.

That was the kind of fighting style he had learned. More importantly, the other guy really was formidable.

He would have preferred to settle things peacefully—a draw that wouldn’t cost him face, but also wouldn’t put him in the spotlight.

But Tong Shangwu had mocked him mercilessly as soon as he stepped up; clearly, a draw was the last thing on his mind. Because Tang Zhong came from a different background, he always saw further than others.

When Tong Shangwu first stood up, Tang Zhong hadn’t disliked him—in fact, he’d rather liked the fellow. With his honest face, resolute eyes, and upright bearing, he gave off a steady, upstanding aura.

What he hadn’t expected was for the guy to immediately challenge him, using such a low and underhanded excuse to provoke him—Tang Zhong felt that face was wasted on him.

To have the face of a good man but use it for ill—there was nothing more detestable.

See? Deep down, Tang Zhong was actually a perfectionist.

“What are you doing? What the hell are you doing?” Li Tieshu roared. “Tang Zhong, are you trying to kill someone?”

“Reporting, Instructor. That is not my intention,” Tang Zhong answered loudly.

“Not your intention? You didn’t mean to beat him up like this?” Li Tieshu was beside himself with rage.

“Reporting, Instructor. He challenged me first. I declined repeatedly. It was you all who encouraged me to step up and accept the fight.”

“Oh, so now you’re in the right?” Li Tieshu was nearly driven to laughter by Tang Zhong’s words. “We encouraged you to spar as a friendly exchange—who told you to beat him up like this?”

“Reporting, Instructor. If I hadn’t beaten him like this, he would have beaten me like this,” Tang Zhong replied.

“Nonsense!” Instructor Jiang Kaiyang from the second squad barked. “You’re not him—how do you know he’d have done that to you?”

“There was killing intent in his eyes. I was scared,” said Tang Zhong.

——

The instructors exchanged glances. For a moment, they all felt the urge to gang up and rid the world of this troublemaker.

He had fought just now with bone-crunching blows that made everyone’s hair stand on end, but now he claimed he saw killing intent in someone else’s eyes and was scared?

There were thousands of men in the army, heroes and scoundrels both. They had seen shameless people before, but never anyone so brazen.

Another lesson learned in prison: logic is a whore—it always sides with those who have the money or the fists.

That was the way of the world.

Tong Shangwu had initiated the provocation, and Tang Zhong, in the spirit of harmony and not wishing to harm a fellow student, had declined. But after the repeated cheers and applause from students and instructors alike, he was left with no choice but to fight back. Even if this case went to the principal’s office, he would have justice on his side.

Seeing the instructors struck dumb by his words, Tang Zhong put on an apologetic expression, pushed up the glasses slipping down his nose, and said sheepishly, “Instructor, I really didn’t mean to beat him like that. We’re all classmates—no old grudges, no fresh enmity. We’ll see each other every day from now on… the main thing is, he’s just too good. Do you know what kind of martial art he was using? Wing Chun.”

“Do you know what Wing Chun is? If many countries’ special forces are experimenting with ninjutsu these days, there’s also a traditional martial art from our own East that’s already been adopted by Western military and police forces, made a required subject—yes, the very style he just used, Wing Chun.”

“For example, the US Marine Corps, the FBI, German special forces, Egyptian airborne troops—these elite units have all made Wing Chun a compulsory discipline. When I saw how good he was, I got scared. I just thought, I have to take him down, no matter what. Once I managed to bring him down, I had to land a few more punches—otherwise, if he caught his breath, I might not make it out alive.”

——

Li Tieshu wanted to shoot this kid on the spot. If only he had a gun.

Did he have a gun? No.

So he could only watch that bespectacled face continue its performance.

“But didn’t you say you didn’t know martial arts? How did you recognize it was Wing Chun?” Jiang Kaiyang pressed. As Tong Shangwu’s instructor, he felt humiliated that his own squad member had been beaten up by someone from Class One.

“I like kung fu movies,” Tang Zhong explained. “There’s a line I remember, ‘hands but no feet.’ When I saw his hands whipping around like he was having a seizure, I knew it was Wing Chun…”

Jiang Kaiyang realized he couldn’t win this argument, so he helped Tong Shangwu up from the ground and asked, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Tong Shangwu replied, glaring venomously at Tang Zhong. He hadn’t suffered any serious injuries except to his nose, which was bleeding profusely.

He pressed his hand to his nose, but bright blood still seeped through his fingers.

“I’ll have someone take you to get bandaged,” Li Tieshu said with a frown. “Lu Yifei, Huang Wenya—you two take him to the infirmary.”

Lu Yifei was the temporary class monitor for the boys in Class One, and Huang Wenya was the temporary monitor for the girls; it made sense for them to go.

Lu Yifei and Huang Wenya hurried over and helped Tong Shangwu toward the school infirmary.

“Instructor, I started this, I should go check on him too,” Tang Zhong volunteered.

“No need,” Li Tieshu refused. He glanced at Tang Zhong and barked, “Tang Zhong, return to the ranks.”

“Yes, Instructor!” Tang Zhong answered at the top of his voice.

The entire crowd fell silent.

Everyone stared in amazement at Tang Zhong, this freshman who would be living alongside them for the next four years.

They knew that with someone like him as a classmate, the days ahead would hardly be dull.

——

School Infirmary.

The bespectacled old doctor, Xiao Xueming, examined Tong Shangwu’s nose while grumbling, “You students, honestly. You don’t focus on your studies but spend your days brawling. What’s so fun about fighting? Bloodying each other up—does that amuse you? If your parents found out, what would become of you?”

“Doctor, we didn’t mean to fight. It was just two martial arts students having a friendly spar—” Lu Yifei smiled in explanation. “The instructors were there too. If you don’t believe me, ask this young lady beside me.”

Huang Wenya was a girl with lingering acne, tall and thin. Her features, taken individually, were quite fine, but her long cheeks gave her an awkward look when seen as a whole.

She nodded, saying, “That’s right, Doctor. We were just playing around. No one expected things to get out of hand.”

Thinking back on what had just happened sent a shiver down her spine. She hoped fervently that Tang Zhong wasn’t in her major—if they ended up in the same class, managing him would be a nightmare. She’d already set her sights on being class monitor once the classes were divided.

She’d been campaigning for the position for some time, currying favor among the students so that, come voting time, she’d have their support.

“If it’s fighting, of course accidents will happen,” Xiao Xueming continued to nag. “I’ll fix up your nose, but it’ll take some time to heal—fortunately the bridge isn’t broken, or you’d need surgery.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Lu Yifei said with a grateful smile.

“If you’d all fight less, that would be thanks enough,” the old doctor huffed.

Lu Yifei and Huang Wenya exchanged glances and ignored the talkative old man.

Just then, Huang Wenya’s phone rang in her pocket.

She took it out and glanced at the screen, saying apologetically, “Yifei, my mom’s calling. Stay with him for a bit.”

“Go ahead. I’ll take care of things,” Lu Yifei said considerately.

Huang Wenya smiled and hurried out with her phone, clearly not wanting anyone else to overhear her conversation with her mother.

Xiao Xueming finished bandaging Tong Shangwu’s wound and said, “Thirty-five yuan. Pay up, and you’re free to go.”

Lu Yifei quickly handed over the money, saying, “Thank you, Master. Thank you.”

Xiao Xueming waved them off and went out for a smoke.

With just the two of them left in the infirmary, Lu Yifei took Tong Shangwu’s hand, his face full of remorse. “Shangwu, I’m really sorry. This is all my fault—I just thought he had good skills and wanted you to spar with him. I never imagined he’d go so hard.”

The truth was, Tong Shangwu had challenged Tang Zhong after being egged on by Lu Yifei.

Tong Shangwu and Lu Yifei were both from Qinghu and had been high school classmates. Back then, Tong Shangwu was well known in school. When a gang of thugs burst in to beat up one of his classmates, Tong Shangwu single-handedly put all of them down. His reputation soared, and everyone knew he was a skilled martial artist.

Lu Yifei had sat in front of Tong Shangwu in class, and they’d gotten along well, so he knew even more about him—like how Tong Shangwu had been learning Wing Chun since childhood as part of the Liang family branch.

Wing Chun was created by the Shaolin nun Ng Mui, who passed it to Yan Yongchun, who then named it after herself. She taught her husband, Liang Bochou, and the Liang family became a prominent lineage.

By the family tree, Tong Shangwu was of the same branch as the famous Master Ip Man—though the generations were not comparable.

That afternoon, after lunch, Lu Yifei had sought out Tong Shangwu to catch up. He’d deliberately brought up Tang Zhong’s exploits, saying he’d taken on six opponents at once and was extraordinary. Tong Shangwu’s roommates joined in, recounting the rumor of Tang Zhong tossing someone into the lotus pond.

Tong Shangwu was unimpressed, thinking Tang Zhong was just another small-time thug—perhaps tougher than most, but nothing special.

He himself came from a distinguished background and didn’t care to stoop to the level of someone like Tang Zhong.

Lu Yifei understood this and suggested that at the bonfire party that night, Tong Shangwu could challenge Tang Zhong and give everyone a show. Tong Shangwu, knowing his old friend was a bit of a political climber, agreed to help him out by overshadowing Tang Zhong.

He never expected to be beaten by that little hoodlum—to capsize his boat in the gutter.

(P.S.: I’m not afraid of being maligned. After all—I’m already as dark as they come…)