Chapter Thirty-Five

Zhao Yan exclaimed in astonishment, “How could they possibly post that kind of tutorial online? Don’t try to fool me—I’ve never even been to school.” Zhou Yu laughed heartily. “Brother, why would I lie to you? Besides, my Israeli combat technique is all just a mishmash anyway.”

Zhao Yan looked puzzled. “A mishmash? What do you mean by that?”

Zhou Yu realized he’d misspoken and quickly explained, “I mean it’s a real hodgepodge. It’s got the spirit of Muay Thai, the softness of Tai Chi, the precision of joint locks, the ferocity of Jeet Kune Do, the strength of Emperor Taizu's Long Fist, and the dominance of Bajiquan.”

Zhao Yan frowned, “What on earth is all that? Come on, show me a set.”

Without further ado, Zhou Yu launched into his self-modified version of Israeli combat. It stunned Zhao Yan so much his jaw dropped. And it wasn’t just Zhao Yan—even those who knew nothing about martial arts stared, dumbfounded.

Everyone was thinking, What the hell is this? It’s worse than kids flailing around.

As Zhao Yan snapped out of it, he burst into raucous laughter. “Damn, brother, I can’t take it—you’re too damn funny.”

Zhou Yu wasn’t surprised; he’d expected this reaction after performing his routine.

Yet he still said, “Is it really that funny?”

Zhao Yan was still clutching his stomach with laughter. Inside, Wang Kui had emerged, saying, “Not only is it funny—it’s absolutely hilarious!” With that, he too broke into laughter.

Zhou Yu didn’t take offense. He turned to Zhao Yan and said, “Come on, quit laughing. If I fight you with this set, you won’t be laughing anymore.”

Zhao Yan forced himself to stifle his laughter and tried to put on a serious face. “Don’t mess around, brother. This—hahaha—it’s just not going to work.”

But before he could finish, he started laughing again.

Zhou Yu watched him, knowing that if he didn’t prove his skills today, Zhao Yan would laugh about this for the rest of his life.

So Zhou Yu wasted no words. He rushed straight at Zhao Yan, drove his knee up, and sent Zhao Yan flying. Before Zhao Yan could react, Zhou Yu followed with an explosive shoulder strike, bending Zhao Yan’s body into a bow, then squatted low and swept out his legs.

With a loud thud, Zhao Yan crashed heavily to the ground, still wearing a bewildered expression.

It wasn’t Zhao Yan’s fault for being confused—Zhou Yu’s series of attacks, though they appeared convoluted, all took place within a few seconds.

Xiao Jie was the first to regain his senses and exclaimed, “That was amazing! Before I could even see what happened, Zhao Yan was already down.”

Nian Yu also came to her senses and shouted, “Honey, you’re so handsome!”

Zhao Yan shook his head and got up, grumbling, “Damn, brother, you sure don’t hold back. You actually dared to sneak attack me.”

Zhou Yu replied, “Don’t blame me—who told you to lose focus during a match?”

Before Zhao Yan could respond, Zhou Yu continued, “You’re too slow in the head. I won’t fight you anymore today. Time to find my wife. So long, comrade single dog!”

With that, Zhou Yu swaggered into the house, leaving Zhao Yan outside to stew in his own disappointment.

After entering, Zhou Yu turned to Nian Yu and said, “Darling, your husband is cold.”

Nian Yu blushed and scolded, “Go away, you rascal. You just woke up and already you're thinking about that. Hmph, I’m not talking to you anymore.”

With that, she spun around and dashed into the inner room.