When Guan Luoyang noticed Long Wuchang's following, the instructor who was still in the small ancestral hall also noticed something strange outside the door.
Ma Zhixing was sitting on a futon in the small ancestral hall, holding a brocade box containing ancient paintings. He had just been hit, and now that he was free, he felt groggy. Unexpectedly, the instructor pulled him up and took him to jump over the wall. leave.
However, as soon as the two of them arrived in the courtyard, they felt that the peripheral light was dim, and a long and thin shadow was cast on the roof, extending from the front of the house to the courtyard wall, like dividing the entire courtyard into two halves.
A British man with curly hair and blue eyes was standing on the roof at some point, overlooking the scene in the courtyard.
The courtyard door was pushed open with a bang, and the embroidered iron lock was violently pulled apart. Spider webs were flying, dust was everywhere, and a strong foreign man who seemed to be as tall as the door walked in.
"You must be Ma Zhixing, hello, I'm Dimon Seymour."
The green-eyed young man on the roof only glanced at the instructor and focused entirely on Ma Zhixing.
To be more precise, he was just staring at the brocade box in Ma Zhixing's hand. He didn't pay attention to Ma Zhixing's appearance at all, but he was still talking.
"Maybe you are very unfamiliar with this name, but all you need to know is that the Guangzhou General Mansion sent people to your home to purchase ancient paintings. The real buyer of that painting is me."
"You!?" A look of surprise appeared on Ma Zhixing's face, and his lips trembled.
He finally understood why his father, who had already tolerated it, suddenly fell out with the people in the General's Mansion.
Demon Seymour spoke Chinese very fluently and said: "The people in the General's Mansion had some misunderstandings with your father, and they did a very bad job, so this time to show my sincerity, I did not bring them here. As long as you bring the painting Leave it to me, I can say one more thing to them, so that you can sit back and relax, and you don't have to hide in such panic anymore."
"Hahaha!"
Ma Zhixing laughed angrily, and when he opened his mouth, there was a slight trace of blood. It was from the roots of his teeth that were bleeding just now, "Should I thank you for your noble hand and kindness? I have ancient Chinese paintings that have been around for thousands of years." Why should I give this treasure to a robber like you who comes to rob it?"
Demon Seymour said lightly: "There are many ancient philosophers in your country. It seems that someone left a saying that if morality is not matched, there will be disaster. Some things are not something you can bear, so you should let those who are capable People come and own it.”
Seymour focused his gaze on the coach and suddenly changed the topic, "Speaking of which, after I got here, I realized that there was such a strong fighter beside you. He had not appeared in your home before, but he was able to meet you here. , he even showed a protective attitude towards you, and in connection with the fireworks event last night, I’m afraid there’s something wrong with his identity.”
Ma Zhixing tightened his palms and stared at him.
Seymour continued: "I am a person who cherishes myself very much. If it is not necessary, I will never bother to provoke a fighting master. As long as you give me that painting, your whereabouts and what you are going to do, None of it has anything to do with me.”
"you you……"
Ma Zhixing felt dizzy due to anger and his fingertips felt cold. However, he looked at his instructor and then at the painting in his hand. His whole body seemed to be trembling, but he gradually let go of his hand.
The instructor suddenly patted him on the shoulder: "Hold your painting tight."
Ma Zhixing trembled: "But we..."
"Do you believe this foreigner?"
The coach only asked one question, blocking all Ma Zhixing's hesitation, "Besides, do you still remember why we got together? We want to not be robbed, not bullied, and not beaten. In order to be able to walk more." Is this what we should do if we take the initiative to be bullied if we don’t step forward?”
"A road to death, with mountains of knives and seas of fire ahead, and cliffs behind, we can't retreat!"
The palm on the shoulder seemed to bring endless heat and firmness. Ma Zhixing responded, stopped shaking, and hugged the painting in his hand tightly.
Dimonsi Moore looked into the sky and sighed: "What a pity."
It's a pity that it takes a little more effort.
There was a sudden loud bang behind Ma Zhixing.
It was as if two fast horses suddenly bumped their flesh against his back.
That was the coach's hand, intercepting Mai Boer's fist.
The courtyard is only ten steps square, and Mai Boer only tiptoed from the courtyard gate to behind Ma Zhixing.
Although his punch was intercepted by the instructor, the wind still blew Ma Zhixing's hair.
Most of the existing martial arts schools in China can be traced back to the Song and Ming Dynasties, and a few can be traced back to the late Han and Three Kingdoms, and even the Spring and Autumn Period and the Warring States Period, when Situ Xuankong, the founder of the White Ape in Mount Emei, was born.
In terms of the variety of Chinese martial arts and its historical origins, it is undoubtedly the number one among all countries. However, this does not mean that other countries do not inherit ancient and excellent martial arts.
British boxing was passed down from the Romans. The boxing game can be loved by everyone from the royal family to the homeless. It is flourishing and timeless. It can be said that it is a martial art that is heading towards its heyday.
Maiboll's boxing skills are derived from the school called "Binghuayan". He follows an older and harsh training method, smearing olive oil on his body all day long, and using only cowhide cut into thin bandages to protect his finger joints, forearms, and body. Other parts are almost unprotected and are subjected to various blows and confrontations with spherical rocks.
Just by looking at him standing on tiptoes and punching, the coach knew that he was a brave man who had experienced many battles. He dared not let him get close to Ma Zhixing. He had just bumped his fist with one hand, and a stick shadow had already appeared with the other hand. Stab him in the throat.
The short stick was the weapon the instructor was accustomed to using, and it was made of fine redwood. This kind of wood has a solid texture and a hard texture. If it falls on a real master, it can produce a unique tenacity.
When swinging a stick with this kind of toughness, the speed of the stick head is so fast that even the shadow is hard to find.
When a blood mark was wiped out on Mai Boer's face, his ears heard the scream of the stick shadow breaking through the air just now.
A cold light flashed from the head of the stick, and a three-inch sharp blade popped out. In a flash, another scar was added to Maipol's collarbone, forcing him to take two steps back.
But as soon as he took these two steps back, his fast punches had room to use again. The left hand punch was light, the right punch was heavy, and the left straight punch was the fastest. It was like a bow string that had already hit the back of the instructor's hand.
After boxing began to put forward various regulations in the mid-19th century, to the outsider, there seemed to be no difference in the skills of boxers. Everyone just bounced and punched, as if they were all taught by the same master.
But in fact, in the eyes of insiders, every successful boxer must have a unique style.
This is especially true for the older boxing style of Maibool. The swinging punches, uppercuts, blocking and other boxing styles are all mediocre, except for the straight punch that is outstanding enough to be called abnormal.
He weighed more than 220 pounds, more than 200 kilograms, but every time he punched, his chest was hollow, his waist and hip belt were tough, and his whole body was so flabby that he looked like a tall, thin man weighing less than 100 kilograms. When the fist hit, it suddenly tightened.
It's like the weight is suddenly boosted back in that extremely short and extremely rapid change.
Because of this method of punching, he was not used to using weapons such as finger tigers. However, in the previous boarding battle, Mai Boer's fists shattered the weapons of thirty pirates in five minutes. Skulls, guns, blades and gauntlets.
He punched continuously and jumped and dodged frequently. In order to pursue the efficiency of counterattack, his body jumped and dodged at a very low range, so that it looked like he was shaking in place. The frequency of punching with his left hand was slightly higher than that of his right fist.
The large space of air between the two people made a "hissing" sound from Mai Boer's fist.
The coach's short stick was in his hand, so fast that he couldn't even see where the head of the stick was. However, the opponent's fist could always avoid the most dangerous trajectory and hit the coach's arm in the blink of an eye.
In one breath, they each launched about ten attacks in a row, and the collision sound was so dense that it was like a cluster of firecrackers detonating at the same time.
When the rhythm on both sides suddenly slowed down, you could see that there were several bleeding wounds on Mai Boer's body. The instructor's arms, especially his right hand, were red and swollen. Although he was still holding the stick, He was actually shaking a little uncontrollably.
At this time, Dimon Seymour, who was on the roof, jumped down and pounced on Ma Zhixing.
The instructor looked like he had eyes on the back of his head. He turned around and held the bird's tail with his left hand. A soft squeeze seemed to push Ma Zhixing out with his whole body, and he landed in the corner.
