Chapter 83: Practical Combat Is Paramount

After Yang Meng spoke, a group of people stood up immediately. "What did you just say?"
"Are you asking for a beating, kid?"
"Brother Bai, say the word—I'll loosen up this kid's bones right now!"
"Do you even know what it means to be the WMC middleweight champion? That's the world boxing king!"

Bai Ze spoke lightly, but he truly had the skills to back up his words. WMC stands for the World Muay Thai Council, the official governing body for professional Muay Thai worldwide. Nowadays, Muay Thai tournaments are often irregular, with all sorts of dubious events cropping up everywhere. But to become the WMC middleweight champion is to earn a genuine world champion's title, without question.

It must be said, Long Teng had charisma of his own. By rights, someone like Bai Ze, a world boxing champion, ought to have his own team, perhaps even his own gym. Yet he preferred to train here, entrusting all matters to Long Teng's team. That alone made Long Teng someone not to be underestimated.

These people were also the golden signboards of "Dragon Rhythm Fitness Club," the source of its prestige and reputation.

Yang Meng could tell these people were not to be trifled with; you could see it from the "Bajie" colors on their shoulders.

Here, "Bajie" does not refer to the pig-faced monk from the classic journey to the West, but to the arm bands worn by Muay Thai fighters, similar to the rings worn around the arms.

If you've ever watched Muay Thai matches, you'll remember the attire of professional Muay Thai athletes: usually, they wear a circle on their head, sleeveless colorful jackets, an arm band on the shoulder, and a belt matching their outfit around the waist.

To outsiders unfamiliar with the traditions of Muay Thai, their attire might seem amusing. In truth, these adornments are of great significance to Muay Thai fighters.

The head band is called "Mongkhon," originally made from snakeskin lined with amber, though now it's often cloth, imbued with protective spells. The belt, called "Krop Khin," is made from cotton cloth inscribed with spells. The clothing is similarly filled with Buddhist scriptures and incantations. The purpose is to protect the fighters from harm.

These three items are removed when the fighters enter the ring, but the arm band can remain.

This arm band is called "Bajie."

In ancient Thailand, there was a fighting art called "Krabi," a dual-sword technique closely related to old Muay Thai. Krabi warriors would tie a "Bajie" around their arms before battle, with a talisman blessed by monks for protection. Over time, it became a symbol of Muay Thai fighters' identity.

Foreign Muay Thai fighters can wear whatever color "Bajie" they like, but for domestic Chinese Muay Thai fighters, it's not so simple. Here, Muay Thai is divided into ten ranks, each color representing a different level, from white at the bottom to red at the top.

Yang Meng observed that even the lowest-ranking among them wore white and green "Bajie," signifying the fifth Muay Thai rank. Impressive indeed.

Yet Yang Meng was not awed by their "Bajie," but rather found it pretentious—wasn't it just a show-off? Afraid others wouldn't know they were Muay Thai fighters?

The country's top Muay Thai athletes rarely wear "Bajie" in competition—relying on gods is less reliable than relying on oneself. Rather than trusting foreign deities to bless them, they'd rather train harder.

He found Bai Ze more agreeable: Bai Ze didn't wear a "Bajie."

Still, liking him was one thing. Yang Meng knew these people well; to win their respect, he'd have to beat them first.

Yang Meng couldn't be bothered to explain, so he stepped onto the ring and beckoned, "Come on, guys, don't waste time. All at once!"

Bai Ze jumped onto the ring immediately. "All at once? Impossible. Let me be the first to learn from your skills, sir."

Yang Meng recalled Ip Man's graceful pose from the movies, stood in place with one hand behind his back, and beckoned with the other. "Zhuo Shan Zi, Yang Meng!"

Bai Ze didn't stand on ceremony; he launched a straight elbow at Yang Meng's face—Muay Thai is notorious for its brutal use of knees and elbows.

Yang Meng had never fought against Muay Thai before, so he leaned back to dodge the elbow. Bai Ze's attack didn't end there; he followed with a sweeping roundhouse kick to Yang Meng's waist.

Yang Meng nodded slightly, appreciating Muay Thai's strengths. In traditional Chinese martial arts like Sanda, kicking is usually a two-step process: first lift the knee, then kick, making for slower and weaker strikes. Muay Thai, however, strikes directly by swinging the leg from the waist, omitting the knee lift, resulting in faster, more powerful kicks.

Of course, overall, Sanda is more comprehensive, with throws and joint locks that Muay Thai lacks.

Bai Ze's combination drew loud cheers from the crowd!

"Does this kid think he can dodge Brother Chen's relentless attacks? He's too naive. Doesn't he know Brother Chen won the world championship with a storm of offense?"

"Exactly! All that talk, and that's all he's got? Let's see how long he can keep dodging!"

"He won't dodge much longer! He can't escape that kick!"

But Yang Meng didn't even try to avoid the kick. Instead, he stepped forward, rendering Bai Ze's kick useless, and reached out with his right hand. As he'd done against Long Teng, he gently lifted Bai Ze's chin with his right hand, and Bai Ze saw a flash of white—then blacked out.

When Bai Ze woke up, his Muay Thai teammates were gathered around him. "He's awake! Brother Chen, you're finally awake!"

Bai Ze shook his head, struggling to clear his mind. "What… what happened just now? Was I knocked out?"

A young man next to him hurried to answer. "Brother, you're finally awake! Are you okay?" This was Bai Ze's younger brother, Bai Chao, only seventeen, but already an up-and-coming fighter.

Bai Ze shook his head and sat up with the help of his teammates. "I'm fine, I'm fine. What happened?"

Bai Chao gave a wry smile. "After you lost, a lot of people went up to challenge him, but everyone who stepped onto the ring lost."

"Everyone lost?" Bai Ze was shocked.

Bai Chao nodded. "But, brother, you were the toughest!"

"Hm? What do you mean?" Bai Ze was puzzled—he'd been knocked out, how was that tough?

Bai Chao explained, "Brother, you lasted two moves before you were knocked out. Everyone else went down in one. And that Yang fellow didn't even change his move; he defeated everyone with a single chin lift."

"Just with that one move?" Bai Ze was even more astonished.

Bai Chao nodded. "Yes, everyone knew he was going for the chin, and prepared their defenses, but it was useless."

Bai Ze inhaled sharply. The more he thought about it, the more unsettling it seemed. Was Yang Meng just playing with children?

No wonder everyone around was looking at Yang Meng as though watching a horror film. His skills were terrifying.

Long Teng, seeing Bai Ze awake, let out a long sigh of relief. "He's awake, he's awake, Brother Yang, he's really awake!"

Yang Meng, seeing Bai Ze regain consciousness, looked apologetic. "Sorry, man, like I said earlier, I'm not used to fighting, so I can't always control my strength. You were the first, so I hit a bit harder—you were out the longest, and the last to wake up. Sorry about that!"

Yang Meng's face was full of apology, but Bai Ze felt worse than if he'd been killed.

"Were you using traditional martial arts just now? I've never seen that kind of technique in any traditional style!" Bai Ze said.

Yang Meng shrugged. "Just because you've never seen it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Any move I use is kung fu."

Long Teng, curious about what everyone else was wondering, asked, "Brother Yang, you've really opened our eyes, but there's something I don't get. If traditional kung fu is so amazing, why has our country's martial arts declined so much?"

Yang Meng held up two fingers. "You guys have misunderstood the whole concept. 'Martial arts' is actually two things: 'martial' and 'arts.' Together, they make martial arts. You all understand 'martial'—like you, nowadays you'd be considered martial men in ancient times, though fairly weak ones. 'Arts' refers to the scholars, the practitioners of technique. Only when the two are combined do you get martial arts."

"We have so many champions here—how can we be considered weak?" Long Teng voiced what everyone was thinking.

Yang Meng laughed. "I said you were pretty boys with fancy moves and you didn't believe me. Now, after losing to me, what do you think? Do you believe it now? Let me tell you, how were martial arts masters forged through history? Through constant combat! Look at any grandmaster—aren't they all battle-hardened experts? If you could fight ten matches a day against opponents of similar skill, after ten years you'd be a grandmaster yourself, able to found your own school! Of course, that's not possible now; fighting is against the law! All you can do is train with sparring partners, repeating the same drills endlessly. How high can your skills really get? If that's not fancy moves, what is? Want to train with me? What I teach would get you disqualified in competition. You'd never win a championship—don't kid yourself."

Long Teng, still puzzled, asked, "Brother Yang, according to you, your kung fu is forged through real combat? But forgive me, you're not that old—who did you fight?"

Yang Meng smiled. "Ever heard the saying, 'tough people come from harsh lands'? In my hometown, sentiment often outweighs law. Clan and kin are more important than legal codes. The villagers are blunt and clumsy, so when conflicts arise, what do they do? They fight! Anyone from my village could be described as 'battle-tested.' You guys… are just too soft!"