Chapter 27: If I Can't Beat You, I'll Suffocate You

Chapter Twenty-Seven: If I Can’t Beat You, I’ll Suffocate You

“Second Brother, it’s a misunderstanding!” Ren Cong cried, turning his head and shouting at the top of his lungs to stop the conflict.

But it was already too late. He could only watch, powerless to intervene, as Guo Er’s fist swung toward Zhang Qian.

In that split second, as Guo Er’s fist was about to make its first intimate acquaintance with the back of Zhang Qian’s head, Zhang Qian suddenly tilted his head, spun around, stepped forward, twisted his waist, and sent a right hook flying back—“Bang!”

Even though Guo Er was agile and managed to raise his left arm for a hasty block, he was still sent staggering by the punch, his attack cut short. From the first day of elementary school, Zhang Qian had never been one to take a beating without fighting back. Without hesitation, he unleashed a flurry of punches, forcing Guo Er into a frantic retreat, arms flailing and shouting as he stumbled backward.

“Second Brother, stop, please! That day it was Shaolan and my second sister who sought him out first,” Ren Cong shouted again, stubbornly convinced that Zhang Qian was the victim and pleading on his behalf. “He only took my sister’s riding whip and then stopped; he didn’t even—”

His words stuck in his throat. He stared at Zhang Qian, mouth agape as if he could fit a whole goose egg inside.

He had always assumed that Young Immortal Zhang must possess many secret arts and strength beyond ordinary men. But in such a sudden scuffle, without the time to chant incantations and summon a celestial sword like the legendary swordsmen, he surely would be caught off guard by Guo Er.

Yet Guo Er was infamous in Chang’an—a notorious scourge who, protected by his family and his own martial prowess, had left countless young scions battered and bruised. This time he’d come prepared, striking first by surprise. How could Zhang Qian not suffer a heavy loss?

But to everyone’s shock, Guo Er’s ambush gained him not even a copper’s worth of advantage! Instead, Young Immortal Zhang sent him reeling, arms raised to protect his head. The strange fighting style Zhang Qian used was clearly no Central Plains martial art; Ren Cong had never seen or even heard of such moves.

“Wild monk, you’re good at fighting. I won’t rest today unless we see who’s better!” As Ren Cong stood there, too astonished for words, Guo Er’s threat rang out, though it was noticeably less bold than before.

In Ren Cong’s memory, Guo Er was the sort who would never admit defeat—he’d keep up his bravado even when losing. Why was he backing down so quickly today? Amazement and curiosity welled up as Ren Cong focused all his attention on him.

A mere few breaths later, Guo Er’s arms were already covered with bruises, the left side of his face swollen, and a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth.

“Truly, the immortal master is a man of noble lineage,” Ren Cong thought, finally at ease. “Without even drawing his sword, he’s given Guo Er no advantage!” He quietly stepped back several paces, folding his arms and preparing to watch the fight.

Little did he know, Zhang Qian’s fighting skills were not some secret clan technique. The reason Zhang Qian could hold his own even when ambushed was entirely due to the environment in which he grew up.

From his very first day at elementary school, Zhang Qian was the favorite target of the local bullies. Other children, when beaten, could have their parents complain to teachers or even escalate to the education bureau. But Zhang Qian, more often than not, could only swallow his tears and blood.

Although Aunt Liu would sometimes intercede with the school after especially bad beatings, she was not his parent, and her government salary and status lacked the deterrent power of other parents. The more she complained, the less seriously the school took Zhang Qian’s suffering.

So until his second year of high school, the only way Zhang Qian could avoid being bullied was to fight back with all his might. Often outnumbered, he gradually developed formidable fighting skills—and an exceptional ability to endure pain.

By his second year of high school, as his classmates matured and stopped finding pleasure in bullying, Zhang Qian, after seeing martial arts “masters” toppled by third-rate fighters online, became fascinated with kickboxing.

After years of training in his spare time, his stamina, endurance, coordination, and reflexes all improved greatly. Though not at a professional level, he could easily handle the average street thug.

This was also why he was able to turn the tables when chased by a wild wolf some days before. The wolf, seeing his large and sturdy physique, feared a last-ditch counterattack and decided to wear him down first. But after Zhang Qian sprinted several kilometers, he still had energy left, and by exploiting the wolf’s cunning, managed to catch it off guard.

“Second Brother of the Guo family, stop fighting! Zhang Qian—Master Zhang is our father’s savior! About that incident…” A high, ringing female voice suddenly echoed in the courtyard. It was Ren Yingying, Ren Cong’s fiery younger sister, who had rushed over upon hearing the commotion, now pleading on Zhang Qian’s behalf.

But, just as with her brother, her plea stuck in her throat. She stared, wide-eyed, at Guo Er—who was famed for being the undefeated champion of both city markets—now sporting a black eye, a swollen mouth like a steamed bun, and bright red marks down both sides of his neck. His hairy forearms were battered and bruised, with barely an inch of sound flesh.

Though he was now reduced to pure defense, unable to fight back, Guo Er still refused to admit defeat. He roared, “Wild monk, well fought, well fought! If I don’t land a few punches on you today, I won’t stop!”

“Brother Zhang, stop, please! Second Brother Guo isn’t a bad man—he’s the one who helped you with your registration and documentation!” Ren Cong, ever the honest one, saw Guo Er take several more punches in a blink and hurried to intervene.

But now it was Zhang Qian he pleaded with. “Brother Zhang, stop, listen to me. I’ve agreed with Second Brother Guo to help you finish the last step tomorrow! And Guo Er, you stop too—Zhang Qian really never laid a finger on your sister!”

Guo Er, however, refused to listen. Still shielding his cheeks with both hands, he looked for an opening to counterattack. “No way! My sister cried for a whole day when she got home, her eyes all swollen! Even if I die here today, I’ll get justice for her!”

“Have him stop first and stay away from me!” Zhang Qian’s tone, though softer, sounded desperate.

It wasn’t Guo Er’s relentless fighting he dreaded, but the man’s “chemical weapons.” Guo Er was obese, hairy, and clearly had overactive sweat glands. He had probably galloped over on horseback as well, so the odor of body odor, stirred by his every movement, was overwhelming.

Ren Cong and the others, standing at a distance and long accustomed to Guo Er, hardly noticed. But for Zhang Qian, a man of the twenty-first century, it was like facing a skunk that kept releasing poison. With every exchange, his nose and eyes were assaulted by this “chemical attack.” After only three or four minutes, though his fists were barely touched, Zhang Qian felt his insides churning.

Yet the more he dreaded it, the more Guo Er pressed in.

Hearing Zhang Qian’s demand for distance, Guo Er suddenly lunged forward, risking several punches to his back and shoulders, and wrapped his arms around Zhang Qian’s waist. At the same time, he heaved with all his strength, a stench erupting like a toxic cloud. “I’ll throw you—ha!”

“Ha!” Zhang Qian, who had been fighting since childhood, knew wrestling was essential. Feeling his waist seized, he immediately lowered his center of gravity, hooked his right leg behind Guo Er’s heel, and muttered, “Take that—ugh—”

With a heavy thud, Guo Er crashed to the ground, spread-eagled and gasping for breath.

Zhang Qian staggered back several steps, bent over, clamped his mouth shut, and held his breath, his throat convulsing. He was just a hair’s breadth from vomiting up his entire breakfast.

“Second Young Master, Second Young Master!” The servants Guo Er had brought, along with Ren Cong’s household staff, rushed to help the fallen man, anxiously asking, “Are you hurt? Should we call a doctor?”

“The imperial physician—Dr. Sun is at the manor! Don’t move, I’ll fetch him at once!”

“Stand back, I’m fine!” Though Guo Er of Chang’an stank to high heaven, he was as tough as they came. He shouted down his servants, clambered to his feet, and bellowed, “You all saw—I was seeking justice for my sister! That I failed is due to my lack of skill, not for want of effort!”

“Ah—” Everyone present, from Ren Cong and Ren Yingying to Zhang Qian himself, gaped in astonishment. After a long, stunned silence, someone finally called out, “We saw, we saw! Second Young Master Guo fought the immortal master for over a hundred rounds, neither conceding an inch!”

“We saw, we saw! Second Young Master Guo risked his life, but the immortal master’s skills are too elusive—so it ended in a draw!” The other servants quickly caught on, shouting along as they turned their heads away, struggling not to burst out laughing.

“Second Brother, we’ll vouch for you—you did your best, but the immortal master’s secret arts let him slip away whenever you attacked!” This last line came from Ren Cong himself, who had to fight to keep from giggling as he spoke.

Hearing this, Guo Nu, Second Young Master Guo, immediately seized Ren Cong’s arm, his grip like iron. “You said that yourself! I heard it! When we finish getting Zhang the immortal master’s registration sorted, you must come to my house and tell my father, face to face, that I did my utmost for my sister!”

“Of course, of course! I wouldn’t dream of refusing!” Ren Cong promised loudly, clutching his aching belly from laughter.

“Excellent! That’ll stop them saying I’m not fit to be a big brother!” With his scheme successful, Guo Nu strode over to Zhang Qian, and from a distance, cupped his hands with a broad grin. “Brother Zhang, your fists are formidable—today I’ve truly been taught a lesson. My sister mentioned that the immortal master has a miraculous elixir, a single drop of which can banish all foul odors. I’m not much, but I’d like to ask the immortal master for this medicine. Name your price—whatever it is, I won’t haggle!”