Chapter Thirty-One: Duel with the Thunderhand

The bright moon hung high in the sky, yet within the training hall, sounds of movement continued without pause. Footsteps and the whistling of fists slicing through the air blended together, while shouts echoed like thunder.

Clearly, even at this late hour, someone was diligently practicing the Liu family’s secret martial art, Thunder Fist.

And the identity of this person was obvious—none other than Liu Zhengde himself.

“Is that you, nephew Liu Tian?” Since Liu Tian hadn’t bothered to conceal his footsteps, Liu Zhengde easily recognized him. “Still awake at this hour?”

“Martial artists are brimming with energy; it’s not yet time for me to sleep.” Liu Tian pushed open the door and entered, finding Liu Zhengde clad in a blue training suit, soaked with sweat that revealed his defined muscles. He looked to have been practicing for quite some time.

“Oh, I nearly forgot. Nephew, you’re aiming to become the greatest under heaven?” Liu Zhengde smiled. “That’s certainly an ambitious goal.”

“Not the greatest under heaven,” Liu Tian replied, closing the door as he walked in. “I want to be the greatest in the heavens as well.”

“Care to spar?” Seeing Liu Tian shut the door, the spirited Liu Zhengde invited him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve fought with anyone.”

“Second Uncle, you’re no match for me. If we fight, you’ll definitely lose.” Liu Tian’s evaluation was calm and unyielding, showing no courtesy just because it was his uncle.

In the way of martial arts, Liu Tian pursued the principle of truth—one is one, two is two. If someone isn’t a match, then they simply aren’t.

After all, if he played coy and Second Uncle misjudged his strength, the consequences might be worse.

“Such confidence! Let your uncle see if you truly have that kind of strength.”

Before his words had fully landed, Liu Zhengde didn’t wait for Liu Tian’s reply. He stepped forward and punched, his momentum like thunder, his speed like lightning—faster even than Liu Tian’s own attacks.

But faster attacks alone mean nothing!

Facing this probing strike, Liu Tian seemed to anticipate it in advance. He gently stepped back, raised his palm to lift the incoming fist, his movements not as swift as Liu Zhengde’s but perfectly timed to redirect the punch. Then, bending his knee, he raised his leg to intercept the side kick.

Bang!

Before Liu Zhengde could react, Liu Tian, trained by the Way of Heaven to respond instinctively, seized the opportunity and, using both hands and feet, swiftly disrupted Liu Zhengde’s balance. In an instant, he executed a flawless shoulder throw.

“I told you, Second Uncle, you would lose.” Liu Tian shrugged as he watched Liu Zhengde fall lightly to the ground.

Being instantly defeated in one exchange by his nephew due to underestimating him—though Liu Tian had held back and caused no real harm—Liu Zhengde’s pride was still stung.

Because of this, Liu Zhengde became serious. He drew a deep breath, his whole body shuddered, and the sweat on his skin was shaken off, shooting like arrows to the floor. On his brow, a small lightning-shaped mark appeared—the sign of a true fighter.

Battle Mark!

“So nephew, you really do have some skill. You’ve become a martial artist, have you? But your uncle is a fighter.” Liu Zhengde’s expression grew solemn as he assumed his stance. “Just now doesn’t count. Let’s go again.”

“The result will be the same,” Liu Tian shrugged. Thanks to the teachings of his father Liu Yun and his master, the Way of Heaven, he already understood Thunder Fist’s essence during their first exchange. “Thunder Fist isn’t a superior secret art—it falls far short of the martial arts I practice. Though you, as a fighter, have faster and heavier attacks than me, in other aspects you’re too slow, and it’s been a long time since you’ve sparred with anyone—your moves are too predictable.”

“Though I haven’t trained in Thunder Fist myself, my father taught me its basics, so before you even move, I know exactly what you’ll do.”

“Just like a moment ago—when you were about to raise your leg, I already knew you’d punch with your left and kick with your right. Under such circumstances, you can’t beat me.”

“Enough chatter! Your uncle was just caught off guard,” Liu Zhengde’s face reddened. “How could a fighter like me lose to a kid like you? Let’s go again!”

“Fine.” Though Liu Tian spoke lightly, he knew his uncle was a level above him and stayed alert—who knew what trump cards Second Uncle might have?

Besides, showing his own strength would make his arguments more convincing later.

The roar of the weak only highlights the difficulty of mutual understanding, but the quiet words of the strong can shake the world, compelling countless to ponder them.

“Thunder Fist, Liu Zhengde!” Now prepared for a real match, Liu Zhengde, retaining a fighter’s purity, no longer treated Liu Tian as his nephew but as an opponent, solemnly introducing himself. “Fighter.”

“Heavenly Martial Killing Way, Liu Tian.” Liu Tian did not call himself Liu Wentian as his father wished, but assumed his stance and declared, “Heaven’s greatest—probationary fighter.”

Liu Zhengde didn’t question why Liu Tian didn’t use the family name. Now that the battle was set, his mind held only one thought—to defeat Liu Tian and reestablish his dignity as an uncle! Everything else could wait.

But would things go as he wished?

Liu Zhengde refused to consider the possibility of defeat. In a flash, he seized what he thought was the perfect moment, let out a fierce shout, and attacked!

Thunder Fist, though rated as third-tier by the Way of Heaven, had its reasons for catching that master’s eye and becoming the Liu family’s secret art.

This attack differed from before—his speed, already greater than Liu Tian’s, increased by another margin. His shout, thunderous, seized the initiative.

As a fighter who had mastered Thunder Fist, Liu Zhengde perfectly embodied its essence: momentum like thunder, speed like lightning, the shout leading the fists, the faster his body moved, the louder his voice, the greater his aura.

In what seemed like a blink, Liu Zhengde’s fist was already at Liu Tian’s face. The weight and speed of the punch lived up to its reputation.

But as Liu Tian had said, Liu Zhengde’s moves were too predictable—before he even raised his hand, Liu Tian knew his intent.

Though Liu Zhengde, now serious, showed a speed far surpassing Liu Tian’s, it was not so fast that Liu Tian couldn’t react.

Confronted with this attack, Liu Tian merely sidestepped perfectly, letting the punch brush past his cheek. Resisting the urge to use his decisive Heart-Breaking Way, he used his shoulder to lift Liu Zhengde’s fist and struck back.

Heavenly Martial Killing Way—Twin Divine Dragons.

No need for faster fists than Liu Zhengde—just faster retreat. Having prepared in advance, Liu Tian landed a direct hit, forcing Liu Zhengde back.

“See, Second Uncle? I told you it wouldn’t work.” Liu Tian even had the leisure to speak during combat.

“Ha!” But Liu Zhengde had no interest in replying. Not interrupted by Heart-Breaking Way, he let out another shout and attacked again.

Unable to draw him into conversation, Liu Tian remained unfazed. Relying on his superior overall speed, better coordination, and familiarity with Thunder Fist, he intercepted Liu Zhengde’s punch midway once again.

But this time was different. Liu Zhengde, relying on his advantage from the previous blow, traded punches with Liu Tian. Without waiting for his stance to recover, he attacked again.

Speed against speed—within a short span, the two exchanged over ten rounds, fists clashing faster and faster.

After just two exchanges, Liu Zhengde realized that Liu Tian’s earlier words were not empty boasts. If they fought openly, he was not his nephew’s equal. But since he was in the fight, Liu Zhengde wanted to win!

How to win, though? Excluding his revolver quick-draw technique, Liu Zhengde thought of only one method—using his higher level, faster punches, and heavier blows to force Liu Tian into hard exchanges, accumulating an advantage and breaking through weaknesses to secure victory.

He didn’t see it as bullying, but as making good use of his strengths—after all, Thunder Fist required tools and weapons, and with the right equipment, his combat power would triple.

If he used his familiar revolver quick-draw, Liu Zhengde was confident he could empty the magazine in 0.1 seconds, knocking Liu Tian flat.

Not using firearms was his concession to Liu Tian, so a slight use of his elder’s advantage was not unreasonable.

But does heavier and faster punches guarantee victory? Where is such logic found?

Bang bang bang! Boom boom boom!

The sound of fists and palms colliding echoed through the training hall. As time passed, Liu Zhengde found his fists growing numb, and without realizing it, he was losing ground.

The script was not unfolding as he had hoped.

Though he hadn’t broken through to become a fighter, Liu Tian’s training in the Heavenly Martial Killing Way gave him harder punches, faster recovery, and with each late attack he intercepted Liu Zhengde mid-move—he wasn’t afraid to trade blows.

Before Liu Zhengde could devise a solution, after nearly a hundred rounds, Liu Tian seized an opportunity, unleashed a move called “If I Were Emperor”—raising his left hand to block the slowed fist, transforming his right palm into a fist, and striking Liu Zhengde’s vital point.

“Be defeated!”

“Ugh!” The shout caught in his throat, Liu Zhengde was sent flying, crashing heavily to the ground.

Liu Tian stood unmoving, a strange inspiration blossoming in his mind, as if he had drawn closer to an unknown boundary.

He hadn’t used Heart-Breaking Way or even Heavenly Martial Killing Way, but had defeated Liu Zhengde with Heavenly Martial Fist, and gained new insight, moving him closer to the threshold of becoming a fighter.

Liu Tian realized that through these sparring matches, after another two or three hundred, he might break through without much effort.

Damn.

He shook the absurd thought from his mind—time waits for no one. Two or three hundred more battles would take at least two years; with that time, he’d already break through on his own merit.

Combat—progress is too slow...