79: Chapter 79 The Challenge Letter from Fighting Champion "Iron Fist" Zhang Hao

The Arrogance in the Gold-Plated Challenge Letter

The training hall's bluestone floor still bore the scorch marks of Qi Energy from the "Crushing Fist" trial when Officer Zhang's law enforcement recorder suddenly emitted a sharp alert. A piece of encrypted information popped up on the screen, and upon decryption, it revealed a gold-plated challenge letter. The signature in the bottom right corner, "Zhang Hao," carried a cold, metallic hardness—he was the "Iron Fist," the five-time consecutive Global Martial Arts System unrestricted fighting champion, whose right arm had been implanted with a titanium skeleton capable of withstanding ten tons of impact.

"This kid was a student at my police academy," the old policeman said, his knuckles turning white as he pulled up Zhang Hao's file photo. In the photo, the young man was wearing a police uniform, but his eyes were like a beast ready to pounce. "Later, in order to break records, he voluntarily underwent illegal modification, replacing his entire right arm with an alloy skeleton." He suddenly zoomed in on a tattoo in the corner of the photo. It was a distorted "Martial" character, eerily similar to the handwriting on Chen Wu's Bronze Token. "He claimed that traditional martial arts were all just for show, and three years ago, he declared he would defeat every single Tomb Guardian of traditional martial arts."

Lin Mo's tactical tablet suddenly exploded with a barrage of comments. The fighting section of the Global Martial Arts System was flooded with "Iron Fist Challenge" posts, and Zhang Hao's training video played on a loop on the homepage—his alloy iron fist could easily smash through twenty-centimeter-thick steel plates, and in his latest match, he broke his opponent's three ribs in just seven seconds. The young man's fingertips danced across the virtual keyboard, sweat dripping from his forehead onto the screen: "System analysis shows his punch speed reaches 17 punches per second, and the hardness of his alloy arm exceeds military-grade alloy plates; it perfectly counters your Brute Force!" In a small window at the bottom right of the tablet, A-Mings younger sister was holding up a sign that read "Go for it," the peace lock wooden plaque shining in her palm.

A helicopter from the Special Incident Response Department kicked up a whirlwind at the alley entrance. The Chief of the Execution Division rushed into the training hall clutching a lead-sealed evidence box. X-rays inside the box showed that Zhang Hao's alloy arm contained not only a titanium skeleton but also three micro Qi Energy conduits hidden within—capable of spraying residual black Qi Energy of "Spirit-Devourer" when throwing a punch. "The Technical Department cracked his training log," the Section Chief said, pulling out a page marked with a red circle. "He started researching your Crushing Fist three months ago and even bribed a technician from Grey Shadow to get the raw data of your completed Move!"

In the Flower Girl's basket, the leaves of the inheritance grass suddenly all stood upright. The tender green tips pointed towards the alley entrance, and as dew rolled across the leaf surfaces, they reflected a blurry figure—Zhang Hao was standing under a billboard across the street, his alloy right arm reflecting cold light in the sun. The little girl arranged the petals of the ming jin orchid into a miniature punch target, and the pale golden fragrance suddenly became pungent: "Elder Zhou says this is an 'Evil Qi warning'," her fingertips trembled as she traced the petals, "His Qi Energy is mixed with toxins from Grey Shadow; this challenge is not a fair fight at all!"

Grandpa Wang's long-stemmed pipe tapped a dull sound against the stone table. The old man fished a yellowed fighting yearbook out of a camphor wood chest. On the 1998 page, Zhang Hao's grandfather was shaking hands with Chen Wu's grandfather during a Tomb Guardian martial arts competition, both of their gloves embroidered with the same Tomb-Guarding Beast pattern. "This kid is the grandson of 'Iron Arm Zhang'," the pipe pointed at the young man in the photo. "Your grandfather won the competition back then, and his grandfather left word that he would have his descendant win it back sooner or later." The old man suddenly slammed the pipe against the table, "But using crooked ways means he is not worthy of being called a Martial Artist!"

Chen Wu's peace lock suddenly resonated with the Bronze Token. When his fingertips touched the gold-plated challenge letter, the "Martial Arts Deduction" System automatically popped up Zhang Hao's fighting data: Punch force 890 kg, punch frequency 17 times per second, the weakness of the alloy arm is the third conduit on the inside of the elbow joint—the protective layer there is 30% thinner than other parts. A bright red alert popped up on the System interface: "Detected toxins in opponent's Qi Energy, suggest rejecting the challenge." But the holographic projection on the back of the challenge letter suddenly lit up, and Zhang Hao's sneer exploded in the virtual space: "If you don't dare to accept, then you might as well take down the 'Tomb-Guarding Beast Guardian' sign!"

The Public Opinion Storm under the Live Broadcast Lens

When news of Chen Wu's acceptance of the challenge was posted on the Global Martial Arts System, the number of online viewers instantly exceeded 6 billion. Zhang Hao's team immediately released a teaser video: the fighting champion stood in front of a specialized pressure testing machine, and the moment his alloy iron fist swung out, the number on the instrument screen jumped to 980 kg, 10% higher than the impact force when Chen Wu tested his Crushing Fist. At the end of the video, Zhang Hao held up a sign that read "traditional martial arts is dead" to the camera, his alloy fingers gently crushing it, and black Qi Energy flickered within the fragments.

"They are playing mind games!" Lin Mo's fingertips tapped rapidly on the tablet. The virtual public opinion analysis chart showed that 73% of the audience believed Chen Wu would lose, most of them young fighting enthusiasts. The young man suddenly pulled up a piece of hidden footage: Zhang Hao secretly injected a purple potion in the training hall's surveillance, and the luster of his alloy arm became duller after the injection. "This is a 'Berserk Agent' specially made by Grey Shadow," his voice carried anger, "It can increase explosive power by 30%, but it will damage the nerves. The System backend detected that he has already used it seven times!"

In the tactical center of the Special Incident Response Department, the Department Head frowned at the real-time public opinion chart. The hologram of the Chief of the Execution Division suddenly cut in with static, with the busy scene of the Technical Department in the background: "We found that the promoter of Zhang Hao's match has financial dealings with Grey Shadow. The betting pool for this challenge has reached 1:5, and the amount they bet on Zhang Hao to win exceeds one billion!" She suddenly pulled up a medical report; Zhang Hao's elbow joint was seriously injured during training half a year ago and now relies on a special brace to Move. "This is the reason why he is in a hurry to compete—if it drags on any longer, his alloy arm will be completely ruined!"

The Flower Girl's inheritance grass suddenly bloomed with black flowers. The petals formed a miniature fighting arena, and the elbow joint of one figure glowed red—this was exactly the location of Zhang Hao's weakness. The little girl sprinkled the antidote powder prepared by Elder Zhou onto the petals, and the black flowers suddenly turned back to tender green: "This is 'Toxin-Breaking Powder'," she stuffed a sachet into Chen Wu's hand, "Wearing it on your body can neutralize the toxins of the Spirit-Devourer. Elder Zhou said it is more effective than any protective armor."

Officer Zhang's law enforcement recorder was aimed at the police academy's fighting hall. In the 1987 surveillance footage, the young Zhang Hao put on gloves for the first time. His grandfather stood by and instructed him, and the words were shockingly similar to Grandpa Wang's current teachings: "A Martial Artist's fists are for protection, not for showing off." The old policeman suddenly turned off the recording. An anonymous whistleblower letter popped up on the law enforcement recorder's screen; someone saw a technician from Grey Shadow installing a micro-bomb in Zhang Hao's alloy arm. "They don't care about winning or losing at all; they just want to take the opportunity to destroy your Qi Energy Foundation!"

When the countdown for the global live broadcast hit 24 hours, Chen Wu's training video was suddenly pinned to the top of the System homepage. In the footage, the moment his Crushing Fist's third variation hit the alloy plate, three-colored Qi Energy suddenly traveled along the plate surface, condensing into a complete Tomb-Guarding Beast claw print on the back—it was the exact same model as the pressure testing machine released by Zhang Hao's team. At the end of the video, Chen Wu held up the "tomb guardians manuscript" to the camera, the completed Crushing Fist diagrams flowing in the sunlight, and the subtitle below was simple and direct: "Martial virtue never dies, traditional martial arts never dies."

The Qi Energy Game in the Fighting Arena

The fighting hall was packed on the day of the match. In the circular stands, members of the Mutant Mutual Aid Association held up blue-gold light boards, forming a sharp contrast with Zhang Hao's fan group. When Chen Wu walked into the arena stepping in Nine Palace Steps, the peace lock on his chest emitted a soft light, and the fragrance of the ming jin orchid in the sachet mixed with the air in the arena, forming an invisible Qi barrier around him. Zhang Hao's alloy arm suddenly emitted a harsh friction sound upon entering, and a trace of unnaturalness flashed across the fighting champion's face—his elbow joint was aching again.

"I'll let you have three punches," Zhang Hao's alloy fist reflected cold light in the sun, "So you can't say I'm bullying a traditional martial arts antique." The slow-motion footage of the global live broadcast showed his knuckles trembling slightly as he spoke, and black Qi Energy was gathering along the conduits toward his fist. Grandpa Wang's voice suddenly came through Chen Wu's earpiece: "Don't believe his nonsense. His grandfather used this trick to deceive your grandfather in 1998, suddenly changing Moves on the third punch to hurt someone!"

Chen Wu's Crushing Fist's first variation was already thrown in the first second. The blue-gold Brute Force did not hit Zhang Hao directly, but grazed past his alloy arm, and the white soft energy suddenly traveled along the metal surface, lightly brushing over the elbow joint—Zhang Hao's body stiffened instantly, and the luster of the alloy arm dimmed for 0.3 seconds. The "Martial Arts Deduction" prompt rang in his mind: "Successfully triggered the old injury reaction, the opponent's Qi Energy circulation speed dropped by 17%." The mutants in the stands suddenly stood up collectively, and the blue-gold light boards formed a huge "Martial" character.

Zhang Hao's counterattack carried a whistling sound of wind. The moment the alloy iron fist was swung out, black Qi Energy condensed into a thin layer of ice on the fist surface—this was precisely Grey Shadow's "Freezing Spirit Energy," which could freeze an opponent's blood and Qi circulation. But Chen Wu's Crushing Fist's second variation suddenly dropped, and the pink vitality energy slipped into Zhang Hao's lower stance like a little snake. The fighting champion's knees suddenly went soft, and the punch originally aimed at the chest grazed past his shoulder, leaving a black mark on the protective gear.

"You're cheating!" Zhang Hao's roar carried desperation. He suddenly pressed the hidden button on his alloy arm, and the three conduits sprayed black Qi Energy simultaneously, forming a toxic mist barrier in the center of the arena. But Chen Wu's peace lock suddenly erupted with scorching light, and the Toxin-Breaking Powder in the sachet mixed with the Qi Energy, exploding into a patch of golden sparks in the toxic mist—the black Qi Energy dissipated immediately upon encountering the sparks, revealing the flashing red light at Zhang Hao's elbow joint.

When the bell for the third round rang, Zhang Hao's alloy arm had already turned an abnormal black. The effect of his Berserk Agent began to fade, and the neurotoxins caused slight tremors in his right hand. When Chen Wu's Crushing Fist's third variation rushed out with three-colored Qi Energy, the fighting champion suddenly revealed a strange smile—the red light at the alloy arm's elbow joint suddenly lit up, and the countdown of the micro-bomb was ticking rapidly. "Let's perish together!" Zhang Hao's fist gave up defense and crashed straight into Chen Wu's Qi Energy.

At the very moment of contact, Chen Wu's Qi Energy suddenly contracted. The blue-gold Brute Force condensed into a point, the white soft energy turned into a thin film, gently wrapping Zhang Hao's fist, and finally, the pink vitality energy traveled along the alloy arm—0.1 seconds before the bomb exploded, the vitality energy suddenly cut the wires, and the combined force of the Brute Force and soft energy pushed Zhang Hao's body three meters to the side. When the black Qi Energy exploded in place, the fighting champion's alloy arm had already been covered by the three-colored Qi Energy, and the conduit at the elbow joint was slowly melting.

"Why didn't you dodge?" Zhang Hao's voice carried disbelief. His alloy arm suddenly emitted a piercing alarm, and the built-in self-destruct program was activated due to the intrusion of Qi Energy. Chen Wu's peace lock gently touched his shoulder, and the blue-gold Qi Energy poured in along the point of contact, forcing the neurotoxins out of his body: "Your grandfather taught my grandfather back then, a Martial Artist's fists can be hard, but the heart cannot be hard."

The Successor Who Put Down the Iron Fist

When the bomb disposal expert removed the bomb from Zhang Hao's alloy arm, the big screen in the fighting hall suddenly played a piece of hidden footage. In the 1998 Tomb Guardian competition, Chen Wu's grandfather deliberately withdrew his punch in the final round, letting Zhang Hao's grandfather win the match. After the match, the two shook hands backstage, and the old man said: "The victory or defeat of traditional martial arts is not on the fighting ring, but in the heart." Zhang Hao's face turned pale instantly. He suddenly tore off the connecting wires of the alloy arm, revealing his right arm covered in needle marks underneath—the skin there was ulcerated due to the Berserk Agent.

The global live broadcast comments suddenly went quiet. Subsequently, a barrage of "Forgive" flooded the screen, and members of the Mutant Mutual Aid Association began to collectively send videos of Zhang Hao practicing martial arts as a teenager—the young man in the police uniform had once taught children basic fist techniques in the community, and there was not a trace of hostility in his eyes. Lin Mo's tablet suddenly popped up a System prompt: "Detected global Qi Energy resonance, the toxins in Zhang Hao's body are being neutralized."

The armored vehicle of the Special Incident Response Department sounded its siren outside the fighting hall. The Chief of the Execution Division walked into the arena holding an arrest warrant, but when she saw Zhang Hao wiping Chen Wu's gloves with his only remaining left hand, she suddenly put the file away: "The Council of Tomb Guardians has decided to give you a chance," a reconciliation agreement popped up on her tablet, "Use your fighting techniques to teach the mutants self-defense, to offset the guilt of illegal modification."

In the Flower Girl's basket, golden dew condensed on the leaves of the inheritance grass. The little girl stuck a leaf onto Zhang Hao's right arm, and the ulcerated skin glowed red the moment it touched the leaf, the toxins receding at a speed visible to the naked eye. "Elder Zhou says this is 'Marrow-Cleansing Leaf'," her fingertips gently brushed over the wound, "It's more effective than any antidote, but it requires you to never use the Berserk Agent again."

Grandpa Wang's long-stemmed pipe tapped a brisk rhythm against the stone table. The old man fished a brand-new pair of gloves out of the camphor wood chest, embroidered with the Tomb-Guarding Beast pattern, exactly the same as the pair from 1998. "Left by your grandfather," the pipe pointed at the wrist guard of the gloves, "He said that one day, the descendant of the Zhang family would understand that a true iron fist is not made of alloy." Zhang Hao's tears suddenly fell onto the gloves, and the wreckage of the alloy arm slowly oxidized in the sunlight, revealing the original skin tone underneath.

When Chen Wu walked out of the fighting hall, the sunset was stretching their shadows very long. Zhang Hao's left hand and his right hand were held tightly together, and the blue-gold Qi Energy flowed at the point of contact, like a river connecting two eras. The homepage of the Global Martial Arts System was changed to a new image: the background was the fighting ring of the fighting hall, and the foreground was Chen Wu's Crushing Fist and Zhang Hao's Iron Fist colliding in the virtual space, producing not gunpowder smoke, but golden light spots filling the sky.

When the System's final prompt popped up, A-Mings younger sister's video call suddenly connected. The little girl was holding the starting stance of the Crushing Fist she had just learned. Outside the hospital window, Zhang Hao's grandfather was standing downstairs waving, holding the 1998 martial arts competition certificate in his hand. "He said he wants to teach me how to practice martial arts again," A-Mings younger sister's voice carried excitement, the peace lock wooden plaque shining like a small sun in her palm, "In the way of a true Martial Artist."

Chen Wu suddenly understood that the true meaning of this challenge was not to prove that the Crushing Fist was stronger than the Iron Fist, but to let the two descendants find a common root in the center of the fighting ring. Just like the bluestone floor in the training hall, new footprints were covering the old traces, among which were his, Zhang Hao's, and countless fists that had let go of hostility—these imprints of varying depths formed a complete "Martial" character under the moonlight, which was more powerful than any gold-plated challenge letter.

This perhaps is the most powerful aspect of traditional martial arts—it can make an iron fist let go of obsession, turn hostility into righteousness, and make everyone who clenches their fists understand: true strength is never about defeating an opponent, but about lifting up the self that was once lost.