Seeing this move, Jack Young couldn't help but laugh. Oh, this is familiar—last time I fought Lillian Lee, she used this exact technique. Now Gavin Gong is pulling the same trick. Looks like I've got a real affinity for Bagua Palm! Back then, Lillian Lee took me down in a couple of moves, but after everything that's happened, looking at Gavin Gong now... he's honestly—not even a challenge!
Jack waited until Gavin Gong rushed right up to him before stepping forward and thrusting his hand out—same move, a straight jab. But Gavin Gong only stabbed at thin air, while Jack's fingertip landed squarely on Gavin's throat. Of course, Jack didn't use any real force, but the difference in skill was clear as day.
One move—that's all it took to decide the winner.
Jack dropped his hand and turned to leave. But Gavin Gong's face turned red then white, suddenly shouting, "No way!" and lunged at Jack's shoulder.
A sneak attack from behind? The crowd erupted. Jack frowned, switched up his footwork, and in a flash, circled behind Gavin Gong. Gavin spun around, only to see a palm filling his entire view.
Buzz—a low hum filled the air as Jack's palm stopped right in front of Gavin's eyes, the fierce rush of wind whipping his hair and collar. Jack said coolly, "That's enough. You've lost." That calmness had a bit of Dr. Tang's vibe—serene as a mountain, but when he wanted to, he could drive you absolutely nuts.
Gavin Gong broke out in a cold sweat, suddenly shouting, "Bagua Stealth Step? No mistake, you just used Bagua Stealth Step! You stole my family's moves! You're a thief!"
Jack snorted, genuinely surprised there were people this clueless in the world. Just as he was about to finish things, someone shot out from the crowd like a bolt of white lightning, slamming a kick into Gavin Gong's face like a cannon. With a loud thud, Gavin spun through the air, landing in a heap off the stage.
"Who are you calling a thief?" The newcomer had serious skills, a booming voice, and a fiery temper: "Jack Young learned Bagua Palm from my grandpa! Call him a thief? I, Lillian Lee, want a word! All you Gong family folks, step up—let's settle this properly!"
Lillian Lee's shout silenced the restless Gong family crowd; immediately, a senior member rushed up to apologize. There were bows and sorrys all around, coaxing Lillian and Jack off the stage. The more sensible Gong folks wanted to slap Gavin Gong silly—Bagua Palm isn't their monopoly, and calling someone a thief was just plain ridiculous. What a disgrace!
Stepping off the stage, Jack Young cheerfully struck up a conversation with Lillian Lee: "Miss, I didn't expect to run into you here. Did you come with your grandpa?"
Lillian Lee seemed to have a good impression of Jack, grinning, "Nope, Grandpa's busy elsewhere. I came by myself. Haven't seen you in a few days—looks like your skills have leveled up!" She patted Jack on the shoulder, totally casual, like old buddies.
Jack laughed, "You bet! If you join the competition, I definitely want a rematch. Let's see just how much I've improved."
But Lillian shook her head. "I'm afraid we won't cross paths."
"Why not?" Jack asked, surprised. "With your skills, you should breeze through the rounds, and I’ll fight my way up if I have to—shouldn’t we meet in the finals at least?"
"Hey, you know fighting those guys is no challenge for me, so why bother?" Lillian pointed to the main competition ring. "My battlefield is over there. Grandpa always said, 'Every match is like climbing a mountain—each step, a new height. If you never climb high, how will you reach the sky?'"
Jack nodded respectfully, giving her a thumbs-up. "Well said! You go climb your mountain, and I’ll play in the sandbox for a bit, rack up some experience. When you’re done with the summit, don’t forget to give me another shot—let me try climbing your mountain!"
Lillian spat, "Get lost, you clown." Then she strode toward the ring—her turn to compete. Her opponent was also pretty young, probably one of those rising stars from the banquet the other day. Looks like Lillian wasn’t the only one with big ambitions.
Jack thought about it—these 'Number One Young Martial Artist' titles are just for show. Only sects obsessed with fame care about those labels. The truly ambitious aim higher; if you want to be number one, don’t settle for 'young' number one—be the real deal!
Number One Under Heaven!
Watching the ring, Jack Young suddenly felt the urge to go for Number One Under Heaven himself. Every martial artist has that fire—who doesn’t want to stand tall and ask, ‘Who’s the true hero of the world?’
Of course, he wasn’t there yet—there were mountains ahead, and he’d only been learning martial arts for a dozen days. When it came to climbing, he had zero experience. But that was fine; he’d practice on these little hills for now, get used to the climb. Once he was ready, it’d be time for the real mountain.
That was probably why Dr. Thomas Tang, for once, put him in the youth division. Normally, Dr. Tang’s idea of kindness was not throwing him straight into the lion’s den—letting him bully the kids wouldn’t last forever.
Thinking about Dr. Tang’s quirks, Jack shivered and snapped back to focus, watching and learning with all his heart.
Observing the main division, experimenting in the youth division—Jack slowed down every match, carefully studying the subtleties of each fighting style. With every bout, his technique evolved, adapting to new knowledge and reaching for higher realms.
With his slow-motion vision kicking in more often lately, Jack was honestly kind of bullying the youth division. But then he remembered—just days ago, any one of these kids could’ve beaten him senseless, and they’d all been training ten or a hundred times longer than him. That’s when he realized just how powerful the Dragon Elephant Wisdom Art really was.
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Seven days flew by. The junior division had finished, the main division had just weeded out the weakest, and the real show was about to start. Meanwhile, the youth division was already at its finale.
Today was the youth division finals. Lots of eyes were on it. The main division matches paused—everyone waited for the youth champion before the next round.
"Contestants, please take the stage! Jingwu’s Jack Young versus Muay Thai fighter Suchat—the match begins!"
That’s right—the other finalist besides Jack was a Muay Thai fighter from Siam. Siamese boxing, now known as Muay Thai, is famous for its brutal techniques. Back in the day, it was even more savage, with fighters training by smashing their limbs against coconut trunks covered in glass shards.
With this extreme, life-draining training, Muay Thai fighters rarely lived long—by twenty-eight, most looked ancient. But the fighter facing Jack was only twenty-three, the peak of his strength and ferocity. In the tournament, Suchat had even broken an Eagle Claw master's hand with a single punch.
Seeing Suchat, even the main division fighters grew serious. They sized themselves up and realized they might not win against him either. The young talents aiming for the main division all watched Suchat closely, eyes shining, analyzing his every move.
"Begin!" called the referee.
At the signal, Suchat lunged at Jack, eyes fierce like a wild beast, sending chills down everyone’s spine. Jack kept his cool, dodging and blocking twice—Suchat’s raw strength was one thing, but that savage power seemed to pierce right through to the bone. That was the real challenge.
"Hah!" Suchat roared, swinging a high roundhouse kick straight for Jack’s head. Jack ducked low and kicked at Suchat’s ankle. Thud—perfect hit. But Suchat’s leg was like iron; he barely wobbled before regaining his stance.
With a contemptuous grin, Suchat didn’t pull back his leg—instead, he slammed it down with lightning speed. Boom—the stage echoed like a drum, but Jack had already slipped behind him like a phantom, grabbing Suchat’s shoulder.
With a burst of strength, Jack threw Suchat hard onto his back. He crashed down, but scrambled up, shaking his head. Glaring at Jack, he roared and charged again, fists flying in a savage flurry. But Jack’s footwork was ghostly—he wasn’t even that fast, yet Suchat couldn’t touch him at all.
Bang! Jack darted forward, stomping on Suchat’s ankle—the same one as before. Suchat tried to counter, but Jack slammed his shoulder into Suchat’s chest. Crack—two sharp pops. The bones didn’t break, but Suchat flew back like he’d been hit by a sledgehammer.
"Argh!" Suchat rolled up and dove at Jack, wild and desperate.
Jack’s face stayed blank. Suddenly, he swept his leg hard—right at Suchat’s ankle again! Wham! Hit the same spot for the third time, and Suchat finally lost his balance, crashing to the mat. Before he could get up, Jack locked in a textbook chokehold, pinning him tight.
Suchat struggled desperately, trying to break free, but his strength faded and he finally passed out from lack of air.
Jack stood up, dusting off his sleeves like a neat freak brushing away dirt. After seven days of observing and competing, his martial arts had made huge leaps; his ability to read moves was now second to none.
The referee checked the situation, then announced loudly, "Match over! Jingwu’s Jack Young wins! After review, the youth division champion—Number One Under Heaven—is Jack Young!"
Instantly, the crowd erupted in cheers. But the young talents from the main division all shot Jack dirty looks, their eyes full of challenge.
"Youth champion? He really deserves that title? Hmph, I’ll be the one to test him!"