Was there anything more infuriating than these four words in the world?
So I cursed softly: "Little Japanese." Then I clenched my fists.
Of course, these actions and psychological struggles were only brief interludes. Looking at Junichi Matsushita in front of me, I felt like he was the embodiment of their universal ugliness.
I secretly thought in my heart: I have to beat the crap out of this guard!
Miss Hoist swayed her graceful body and spun in a circle with the sign 'First Round'. After that, the match between Matsushita Junichiro and I officially began.
What I didn't expect was that although Junichi Matsushita looked strong on the surface, he wasn't as skilled as I imagined.
From the very beginning of the match, I kept attacking Matsushita Junichi's head with a combination of punches. My belief was mixed with my hatred for the Japanese. To be more precise, I didn't treat this match as a competition, but as a blind way to vent my anger.
Maybe that was wrong, but I couldn't restrain my impulses under the circumstances. My combination punches blossomed on Junichi Matsushita's head. He didn't even have the ability to defend himself before he could attack. He could only hold his head and endure the attacks.
Loud cheers and shouts came from below the stage. I heard a lot of extreme words in Chinese, such as' cripple the Japanese. 'But I couldn't calm down at this time. My blood was boiling. I used the cheers of the audience as a kind of superpower that pushed me to continuously increase the strength of my punches. In an instant, Junichi Matsushita was battered and exhausted. He was holding his head and groaning.
I couldn't bear to stop beating Junichi Matsushita until the referee called for a stop.
To be precise, it was very satisfying.
Beating them made me experience a joy I never felt before.
As for my own actions, I can only say that I am not an accomplished monk, nor am I a cultivator. I also have emotions, love, and even more so, hate.
The arena is like a battlefield. The winner is king and the loser is a bandit.
This is the law from top to bottom.
Unless you're stronger than me, I'll let you have a taste of being bullied …
At this moment, I felt my thoughts were so simple, like a child who just watched an anti-Japanese film.
After that, Matsushita Junichi learned his lesson and began to dodge my fierce [Chain Punch] with his own strength and technique. However, the difference in strength meant that he was doomed to be at a disadvantage. I added a little more strength and broke through his defense. Then, I launched another round of fierce attacks and beat Matsushita Junichi until he was in a sorry state.
In the second round, I didn't give Junichi Matsushita any chance to recover and continued to attack his head with punches.
After a few rounds, Junichi Matsushita was beaten to the point that he was unconscious.
Seeing that he was going to lose, I heaved a sigh of relief. Then, I began to perform a chain of three kicks. "Bang, bang, bang," my right leg hit his knee and chin.
Junichi Matsushita..
The referee ran over to count the seconds. Three, two. Just as he was about to count to one, Matsushita Junichi struggled to support himself with his hands and stood up, panting.
But just as he barely managed to stand, his legs suddenly became sore and he staggered again.
He looked at me with a pitiful expression, as if he was begging for mercy, but also as if he wanted to accumulate strength to fight me.
But what chance did he have?
He was like a rooster that got the plague. He didn't have any arrogance, disdain, or arrogance.
He was like a weed in the wind. When the wind blew, his body would violently sway.
Perhaps it was his Samurai spirit, but Junichi Matsushita still didn't give up and seemed to want to continue fighting.
He raised his fist and weakly pointed at me, wanting to continue fighting.
To be precise, I was moved by his spirit.
If it wasn't for his stubbornness, I think I would have continued to launch fierce attacks on him. I even had the thought of crippling him.
Thus, I decided in my subconscious that I couldn't kill him to the last man.
I had to leave some dignity for this poor samurai.
However, at this time, below the ring, a Japanese man wearing a Karate uniform suddenly pulled out a white towel and threw it towards the ring.
He shouted in broken English, "Don't fight, don't fight, we admit defeat, we admit defeat!"
This person seemed to be slightly older than Junichi Matsushita. He should be Matsushita's coach, a colleague, or a temporary person in charge of one of the contestants.
The match was stopped because of this, but it was met with a lot of doubts from the media and audience.
After the match, a reporter interviewed the Japanese coach who threw the white towel and asked him why he threw the white towel in the middle of the match and if it was inconsistent with their Samurai spirit.
The coach said with emotion: "I can't lose one of the Emperor's proud guards because of a match.
That guard was too barbaric, it was like he wasn't in a match, it was like he was killing someone. "
Naturally, I advanced to the top 8 with an absolute advantage.
After the match, on the way back to the apartment, You Meng couldn't help but ask: "Zhao Long, when did you become so barbaric? The match between you and that Japanese guard was as cruel as American wrestling."
The so-called American wrestling is not wrestling. The "wrestling" here includes punches, kicks, elbows, throws, and almost all bare-handed fighting techniques. The competition field is allowed to extend to the stands and even the lounge.
Therefore, wrestling is more primitive, casual, and exciting free combat.
There was also a big difference between wrestling and wrestling in terms of the competition format. For example, the most popular Hell Cage Competition, the Buried Alive Competition, the Hardcore Competition where lethal weapons could be used, the Royal 30-Man Battle, and so on. These types of competition formats were impossible to appear in wrestling.
Wrestling is called the most cruel fighting competition in the world by many people.
It is known for its cruelty and fierceness.
You Meng actually compared me to wrestling. It can be seen that I was a bit cruel to Junichi Matsushita.
To be exact, now that I have calmed down, I was still shocked by my excitement.
I have never attacked a person like that before, let alone a fellow martial artist in the same field.
You Meng continued: "I found a kind of wild beauty in you.
This kind of wild beauty is very admirable. "
I quickly waved my hand and said with a smile: "Don't, don't worship this brother, this brother is just a legend." Using a popular fashion line, I felt awe-inspiring and my heart was stirred up.
You Meng pouted and scolded: "Little guy, look at how smug you are."
I changed the topic and said: "After so many matches, my body is a bit sore. You Meng, can you give me a massage when we go back?"
You Meng said angrily: "Zhao Long, you think I'm a masseuse, right?"
I said: "How could I?
It's not that your technique is good.
When you put your small hands on my body, it feels very comfortable. "
You Meng smiled and said with a shy face: "Really?"
I praised and said: "Of course.
Your massage technique is hard but soft, soft but hard. It's much better than those professional masseuses. "
You Meng chuckled, "If that's the case, then I'm willing to help.
When we go back, I will help you move your muscles.
After so many matches, you must be tired. "
I said with a naughty smile: "That's great.
After hearing what you said, the fatigue in my body has lessened by a lot. "
When we returned to the apartment, You Meng did not go back on her words and took the initiative to enter the bedroom with me.
I lay flat on the bed and You Meng sat on the edge of the bed. Her slender hands moved from head to toe, helping me move my muscles inch by inch.