ATPnovel Chapter 102 This boy is a genius
Chapter 102 This boy is a genius
The force of his spear thrust was enough to pierce through three layers of leather armor.
A fifteen-year-old boy, with a gun barrel made of ash wood, would surely have his gun barrel break if he took the hit head-on.
He instinctively tried to pull back, but it was too late.
The spear tips touched, but there was no direct collision as expected.
Just as the tip of Zhao Yun's spear touched the spearhead, it slightly deflected and slid past the spear shaft.
This slip dissipated most of the force from the spear, and at the same time, the spear tip sliced straight down the shaft towards Hou Cheng's fingers holding the spear.
Hou Cheng was terrified and hurriedly changed his move. It was too late to abandon the spear, so he could only forcefully lift the spear shaft to parry the attack.
Another clang of metal rang out, sparks flew, and the two men each took a step back.
Cheng Pu and Han Dang, standing off the field, straightened their bodies slightly. This move was not simple. If they were in each other's shoes, they could also take Hou Cheng's move, but it wouldn't be so easy.
Jian Yong noticed their unusual behavior and leaned closer to ask, "How are you?"
Cheng Pu explained, "Hou Cheng's spear thrust just now, that chest-piercing stab, was his killing move. If combined with a charge on horseback, even I would have difficulty countering it."
"Although this is a foot combat situation, this young man not only caught the attack, but also counterattacked while catching it. This is not martial..."
"how?"
Jian Yong asked curiously, and Cheng Yu also came over. He was skilled in martial arts, but compared to the others present, he estimated that he wouldn't last more than ten moves.
Cheng Pu paused, seemingly searching for the right word: "This is handling heavy tasks with ease!"
Han Dang, however, did not take it seriously. He had tested Hou Cheng's martial arts skills and found that Hou Cheng could only last for thirty rounds against him, which was nothing special.
The two exchanged blows, gradually reaching forty rounds, by which time Hou Cheng's back was soaked with sweat.
His breathing was heavy and labored, and his hand gripping the spear shaft trembled slightly.
In contrast, Zhao Yun, the young man, also had sweat on his forehead, his breathing became noticeably rapid, and his face turned red; he was no longer as relaxed as before.
But his gun remained steady, the tip trembling slightly, like a snake's tongue poised to strike.
After fifty rounds of fighting, Hou Cheng sheathed his spear, took three steps back, and his chest heaved violently.
It wasn't that he was exhausted; it was that if the fight continued, he wouldn't be able to stop. They were all on the same side; there was no need for a life-or-death struggle!
He was panting heavily when he looked at Zhao Yun, who was also drenched in sweat, and suddenly grinned.
"Good lad, I, Hou, consider myself to have some skill, but in today's battle with you, I haven't gained the slightest advantage."
He stepped forward, gave Zhao Yun a thumbs-up, and said with a hint of admiration, "To be able to fight me to a draw at this age is remarkable!"
Zhao Yun sheathed his spear and saluted, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead: "General Hou Chengrang!"
Upon seeing this, Cheng Yu said, "This young man is only fifteen years old, yet he can fight Hou Cheng to a draw. He's a promising talent; his future achievements are limitless!"
Cheng Pu didn't speak, but looked at Zhao Yun in the arena with a hint of doubt and a touch of surprise in his eyes.
Hou Cheng laughed heartily, then turned and walked down the corridor.
Jian Yong handed Hou Cheng a bowl of water, gave him a thumbs up, and Hou Cheng took it, smiled, and drank it all in one gulp.
Then, wiping his mouth, he said to Liu Bei, "My lord has discerning eyes!"
"This boy is a genius!"
Upon hearing this, Liu Bei shook his head and smiled meaningfully, saying, "Yi Gong, why don't you go up and give it a try!"
Han Dang was taken aback upon hearing this. He looked at Zhao Yun in the arena, then at Liu Bei, and his brows furrowed.
"My lord, he has just fought Hou Cheng for fifty rounds."
"If I go up there now, wouldn't I be bullying him?"
That's a straightforward statement, and that's just Han Dang's temperament: if he wins, he wins honorably; if he loses, he loses convincingly.
It's dishonorable to fight someone when they're exhausted and win.
The people under the corridor also thought it made sense. Tian Yu nodded slightly, and Shan Jing also looked at Liu Bei, waiting for him to retract his decision.
Liu Bei simply smiled, a faint smile with the corners of his mouth slightly upturned.
This is nothing! You have no idea how brave Zhao Yun was at Changban Slope, charging in and out seven times. Fifty rounds is nothing!
Liu Bei looked at Zhao Yun and asked, "Zilong, are you still able to fight?"
There was a moment of silence in the corridor, and those with keen senses had already noticed that something was amiss.
Cheng Yu, who was leaning against a pillar, straightened up slightly upon hearing this.
His gaze lingered on Liu Bei's face for a moment before shifting to Zhao Yun in the center of the arena.
Zhao Yun raised his head. His forehead was still damp with sweat, and his breathing had not yet fully calmed down. The ash wood on the spear shaft was stained with dark marks from the sweat.
When he heard Liu Bei's words, a hint of confusion flashed across his eyes.
He didn't understand why Liu Bei had such confidence in him.
From the moment he saw him at the prefect's residence, he seemed certain that he was no ordinary man, and went so far as to ask for him.
Now that he has fought Hou Cheng for fifty rounds, most people would only think that he is worth cultivating. Why is Liu Bei still so sure that he can still fight?
He was humble and deliberately kept his strength at a level comparable to Hou Cheng's, never unleashing his true killing move in his marksmanship.
Liu Bei couldn't possibly have seen through his limitations, but his tone, "Can he still fight?", clearly indicated his certainty that he could still fight.
He didn't understand where this certainty came from.
But he is Zhao Yun.
He gripped the gun barrel tightly, bent down, and spoke in a low but steady voice that reached the ears of everyone in the courtyard.
"YunShang is capable of fighting!"
"Magistrate Han, please!"
Seeing that Liu Bei was not joking and that the young man agreed, Han Dang no longer hesitated.
He took off his outer robe, revealing his strong and muscular physique, and took his usual ring-pommel sword from the weapon rack.
The sword has a thick back and a broad blade, making it three-tenths heavier than a typical ring-pommel sword.
He walked to the center of the arena, the tip of his knife pointing diagonally at the ground, and sized up Zhao Yun.
"Young man, fists and feet have no eyes. My knife is heavier than Hou Cheng's spear. If you can't hold on, then speak up."
Zhao Yun didn't speak, but gripped the spear shaft tighter and nodded slightly.
Han Dang said no more. He made a move, and his blade flashed.
This strike came without warning, without any initial stance or build-up of power. The blade slashed diagonally upwards, aiming straight for Zhao Yun's left rib, as fast as lightning.
Zhao Yun lowered his spear shaft, blocking the blade.
The clash of swords and spears produced a piercing metallic clang.
Zhao Yun felt a powerful force coming from the spear shaft, which made his tiger's mouth slightly numb. He thought to himself: Han Dang's strength is indeed three points greater than Hou Cheng's.
Han Dang's first strike was blocked, but his sword continued its momentum, slashing, chopping, cutting, and sweeping, one strike after another, the blade cutting through the air with a whistling sound.
His swordsmanship is not about fancy moves, but about speed and accuracy. It's so fast that people don't have time to block, and so accurate that every strike hits a vital spot.
Unlike Hou Cheng's fierceness, Han Dang's blade was even more ruthless.
Hou Cheng's spear was for "smashing," and Han Dang's knife was for "killing." Every strike was aimed at the vital points, leaving no room for retreat.
The speed of Zhao Yun's spear technique was forced out.
The spear tip struck the blade, producing a series of sharp, rapid clanging sounds.
Ding, ding, ding, ding!
So fast that it was almost impossible to distinguish the intervals between each sound, the spear tip always followed the blade, each strike precisely hitting the weakest point of the blade.
As Han Dang swung his blade, Zhao Yun's spear tip was already waiting at the point where Han Dang would exert his strength. With a slight tap, Zhao Yun deflected the blade's momentum by three points.
Han Dang swung his hand back, and Zhao Yun's spear shaft was already pressed against the back of the blade. Following the momentum of the blade, the sweeping motion passed over Zhao Yun's head and missed.
In the blink of an eye, twenty rounds have already passed!