Chapter 144: Exercise to Protect Yourself (Bonus for 570 Monthly Votes)

Damn your ancestors for eight generations! You deserve to have your whole family cleaned out!

As Hong Tao squeezed toward the front exit, he already knew what had happened behind him. He felt completely disillusioned with that bucket-waisted young woman. To think he had actually risked putting himself on the line to warn someone of that intelligence—what a blind fool he had been!

No matter how fiercely he cursed inwardly, it was useless now. Hong Tao could only keep a sidelong watch on the movements of the young man standing one person away behind him. The moment the bus doors swung open, he bolted out like a shot and sprinted toward the sports school.

At this point, another thing filled Hong Tao with endless regret: he was far too vain. If you were going to the sports school, why couldn't you just wear sensible athletic shoes like a normal person? But no, he hated how sneakers made his feet smell, so he had packed his judo uniform and sneakers together in an airline-issued travel bag to carry with him, while keeping on his favorite pair of traditional layered-sole cloth shoes.

After running a hundred yards or so, however, he noticed that nobody was following him. It seemed the thief hadn't gotten off the bus after all. He looked back carefully once more—still nobody. Reassured, he slowed his pace and strolled unhurriedly toward the sports school.

High as the mast is, the sail is higher still! Just as Hong Tao turned into the alley leading to the sports school, he suddenly sensed something amiss behind him. A bicycle cut diagonally in front of him. A skinny man was pedaling, and sitting on the rear rack was none other than the pickpocket from the bus.

Heh heh heh... Little brat, nowhere to run now, are you? What were you up to on the bus earlier? What are you going to do about it now?

The thief hopped off the rack and stepped to Hong Tao's left. Now Hong Tao had a bicycle in front of him, a wall to his right, and the thief to his left. Trying to turn and run was out of the question; the thief could trip him with a single outstretched leg.

You two must have some kind of misunderstanding. I'm just a kid, what could I possibly do? You must have mistaken me for someone else.

Hong Tao had no choice but to press his back against the wall, lower his schoolbag, and observe the two men while he spoke.

Ha! You little punk still have a stiff mouth, don't you? Fine, let me give you a taste of this, and you'll quiet down!

Seeing that Hong Tao refused to admit anything, the thief reached directly into his trouser pocket, pulled out a hard paper cylinder, and drew a triangular scraping dagger from it. Meanwhile, his accomplice straddled the bicycle frame, lighting a cigarette leisurely, ready to watch the show.

Hey, hey, hey... Don't try to scare me with that thing. How about this: I honestly don't have any money on me, but I do have a wristwatch. If you like it, you can take it and trade it for a few packs of cigarettes.

Seeing that weapon made Hong Tao's heart skip a beat. These professional thieves weren't like common street punks; they actually dared to stab people, especially anyone who interfered with their work. They showed zero mercy.

A wristwatch? What kind of good watch could you possibly have? Take it out and let me see!

The thief was quite surprised. He hadn't expected a kid to have a watch.

I bought this watch from a consignment store. It's a famous foreign brand. Look, it even has foreign letters right here!

True to his word, Hong Tao pulled a wristwatch from his trouser pocket. It looked quite high-end with a solid steel band. To prove the watch was valuable, Hong Tao deliberately held it out, pointing at the characters engraved on the case back for the thief to see.

Hmm? Let me see? Do you know what this is... Oh! Ah! ...

As the thief reached out to take the watch, his right hand holding the dagger came up as well, parting the strap to check whether the characters written on it were truly foreign.

At the exact fraction of a second the watch changed hands, Hong Tao's left hand suddenly seized the thief's wrist, yanked it upward, ducked his head, and lunged beneath the thief's armpit. His right hand plunged directly between the thief's legs. Pulling to the left with his left hand while hoisting upward with all his might with his right, following the upward motion of his body, he heaved the thief right off the ground from his right side and hurled him headfirst down onto his left!

In truth, this move was called a shoulder wheel, a fundamental judo technique. Hong Tao executed the first half of it quite standardly, but he modified the final throwing motion. Instead of slamming the man flat onto the ground, he pulled his strength back midway, sending the thief crashing down headfirst in a clumsy somersault. This wasn't because he lacked strength; judo emphasized leverage and explosive force. Once the first half of the technique was properly executed, the latter half required very little physical effort.

Hong Tao did this on purpose. Fearing the thief might retain the ability to fight back if thrown flat, he opted to drop him headfirst instead. During training, their coaches had repeatedly drilled into them never to hold back midway, as doing so was extremely dangerous for both parties. Sparring with someone trained in judo meant that pulling your punch halfway through allowed the opponent to grab your clothing and throw you in turn. Sparring with someone unskilled or completely ignorant of judo meant that pulling your punch caused the opponent to land headfirst, frequently resulting in a broken neck.

This shoulder throw was the technique Hong Tao performed most proficiently, not because he studied it with exceptional diligence, but because he had been thrown into this position more times than any other. Whether upperclassmen were using underclassmen as punching bags or coaches were handing out punishments, they favored this move because it conserved the most energy and offered far more control than a classic drop shoulder throw.

Now that the other party had produced a knife, Hong Tao no longer cared whether the man lived or died. He would use whatever brutal means necessary. This was precisely why one should never fight an amateur; amateurs could not regulate their own power. Armed with either a knife or technique, they went all-out with maximum lethality, invariably ending up either stabbing someone to death or breaking bones.

Help! Murder! Robbery! Coach Pang, someone's committing armed robbery!

Quicker than it takes to tell, the entire sequence took only a second or two. The very instant the thief's head struck the pavement, Hong Tao bolted backward, lashed out with a kick straight at the rear wheel of the bicycle, and tore off toward the sports school at a dead sprint, screaming at the top of his lungs the entire way.

The thief's accomplice had been careless. Believing his partner was more than enough to handle a kid like Hong Tao, he had remained mounted on the bicycle frame smoking his cigarette. By the time he registered what was happening and tried to pull his leg out from over the crossbar, Hong Tao had already kicked the bicycle over, dragging the rider down with it. When the accomplice scrambled back to his feet, Hong Tao was already dozens of yards away.

The man wasn't stupid; under the circumstances, chasing Hong Tao was out of the question. Although this alley was sparsely populated, the boy's shouting would soon draw people out. He had no choice but to hoist the bicycle upright, run over to his cohort who was still rolling on the ground clutching his injured left arm, haul him onto the back of the bike, and pedal frantically toward the mouth of the alley.

The two thieves were simply destined for bad luck. At that exact moment, a municipal honeywagon entered the alley mouth, blocking the passage entirely from wall to wall. The thief pedaling was moving too fast, carrying a passenger, and lacking reliable brakes.

Aba! Ah! Crash! Ah...

Amid a rapid succession of panicked shrieks, the bicycle slammed solidly into the iron front plate of the converted 130 truck. The skinny rider engaged in a flesh-and-metal wrestling match with the sewage truck using his own skull, then bounced off like a discarded rag doll. The rear thief, whose arm was already injured, fared even worse, his body smashing directly into the vehicle's bumper. God only knows what else he broke this time, as he rolled around on the ground in front of the truck, howling in agony.

Hong Tao had already burst into the courtyard of the sports school, shouting as he ran. The commotion alarmed all the teachers and coaches inside, who rushed out to demand explanations before charging out of the gates behind Hong Tao.

Even two undamaged thieves at the absolute peak of physical condition would have stood no chance against these coaches retired from professional athletic teams, let alone a pair of battered casualties already abused by a honeywagon. The man leading the charge was Coach Pang. Though he strictly forbade his students from using the techniques he taught to fight outside, hearing that someone had dared to rob one of his own students sent him into an absolute rage.

The first to meet misfortune was the skinny thief who had just clambered off the ground. He had intended to flee, but the driver of the sewage truck flung his door open, sealing off the very last narrow gap of escape. The fellow was vicious; pulling out his own triangular scraping dagger, he forced back the neighborhood onlookers who had gathered out of curiosity, intending to find an escape route down the opposite end of the alley. Instead, he ran right into Coach Pang.

Before Coach Pang made his move, Hong Tao had no idea judo techniques could be deployed with the striking efficiency of sanda. The skinny punk wasn't just brandishing the knife for show; seeing that Coach Pang genuinely blocked his path, he didn't waste breath. With a ferocious lunge, he thrust the blade forward. He possessed a wealth of stabbing experience, refusing to extend his arm outward for fear of being intercepted and neutralized; instead, he held the dagger close to his chest and hurled his entire body weight forward, counting on the knife entering the opponent's flesh first the moment contact was made.

Unfortunately for him, the punk miscalculated this time. His target was a professional judo athlete. Coach Pang made no attempt to grapple any part of the skinny man's body. He merely sidestepped with a swift pivot, and before the man's torso had even finished turning, drove a left hook squarely into the punk's throat.

And... that was the end of that.

Clutching his windpipe, the skinny man collapsed into a squat, mouth agape, face flushed purple with bulging veins at the temples. Not a single sound escaped him. Moments later, he dropped to his knees and curled into a tight ball.

Everything that followed was remarkably simple. The thief whose left arm Hong Tao had broken earlier suffered further leg damage upon impact with the truck; he remained slumped in front of the vehicle, unable to rise. The skinny punk had been neutralized by a single punch from Coach Pang. Long after the police arrived, he was still huddled against the wall clutching his throat, entirely unable to catch his breath. (To be continued...)