Chapter 70: Arrogance

Translator: Tim Editor: Tehrn

“Shi… senpai—” Fang Weicheng stammered, unsure of the proper address. Ye Mo interrupted, “Brother Fang, just use my name. I’m not your senpai.”

Fang Weicheng, relieved, said, “In that case, I won’t be formal. Shi Ying, I need your help. I apologize for the abruptness of this request, given our limited acquaintance…”

Ye Mo frowned. He knows it’s impolite? Isn’t that obvious? he thought. Asking a virtual stranger for help upon first meeting was hardly conventional.

Seeing Ye Mo’s expression, Fang Weicheng pressed on, “I’m a driver. My boss’s son, a generous and kind young man, is a fourth-year student at Ning Hai Technology University and president of the martial arts association. A month ago, he was severely injured in a martial arts sparring match and remains hospitalized.”

Ye Mo cut him off. “You want me to avenge him?”

Fang Weicheng nodded, starting to speak again, but Ye Mo interrupted, “I won’t do something so pointless. Let’s end this here.”

Fang Weicheng’s face fell. He hesitated, then said, “Brother Ying, please let me explain. If you’re still uninterested, I won’t press further.” He hastily corrected his address.

Ye Mo sighed, “Fine, but be brief. I’m busy tonight.”

“My boss’s military background explains his son’s passion for martial arts. A month ago, a group of Koreans opened a Taekwondo gym near the university. Ning Hai has many Taekwondo clubs, so this wasn’t unusual. However, the ‘Han Style Taekwondo Club’ posted a sign declaring, ‘All martial arts originated from Han, and Taekwondo is supreme! Only those who acknowledge this can train here.’

“Everyone assumed no one would join, but many did. Qi Weidong, my boss’s son, couldn’t understand. He sparred with members of the Han Style Taekwondo Club…” Fang Weicheng sighed.

He paused, but Ye Mo understood. Qi Weidong, it seemed, had been severely beaten. Ye Mo, too, disliked some Koreans’ blatant appropriation of Chinese culture – claiming Chinese medicine, Zhuge Liang, and traditional festivals as their own.

Fang Weicheng sighed again. “Qi Weidong challenged the club master, signing a waiver. Despite years of martial arts training since age eight, he was no match for the vice-club master and was badly injured. The match was fair, so there was no recourse.

“Many Ning Hai masters challenged them, all returning injured. This Korean is incredibly strong. A month later, no one can defeat him. They’re now holding challenges at universities to boost their profile. Their club isn’t closing; it’s thriving. I don’t understand how these people can support them!”

Fang Weicheng’s anger was palpable. Ye Mo smiled faintly. He’d heard of the years-long boycott of Japanese goods, yet many still bought them, unknowingly funding their aggression. Young people in peacetime often lacked a deep sense of national pride, their patriotism superficial and easily forgotten. Unlike the war generation, they valued brand names and appearances over origin. This wasn't a lack of patriotism, but a lack of awareness.

He empathized with Fang Weicheng. While not a firebrand, Ye Mo found the Koreans’ claim of ownership over everything deeply offensive. As a Chinese man, he knew their history. He believed Taekwondo stemmed from Chinese martial arts, yet they were claiming the opposite.

Deciding to help, Ye Mo asked, “Brother Fang, what time is it?”

Fang Weicheng checked his watch. “7:30.”

Ye Mo nodded. “I have three and a half hours. If you can arrange a match within that time, I can help.”

Fang Weicheng jumped up. “Brother Ying, I can do that! They’re actively seeking challengers, holding promotional matches at universities.” He immediately made a call.

…

Ning Hai Technology University.

A 3,000-capacity gymnasium overflowed with over 4,000 people, the lights blazing. A match was underway: Li Bangqi, the university’s martial arts association president, versus Pu Dongheng, the Han Style Taekwondo Club’s vice-club master. Defeating the vice-master was a prerequisite to challenging the master. In a month, no one had beaten Pu Dongheng. Many suffered broken bones.

Li Bangqi, a national youth martial arts competition bronze medalist, drew a huge crowd, spilling outside to watch on a large screen. The match was a no-holds-barred free-for-all, excluding weapons.

The crowd roared for Li Bangqi. Neither man had a clear advantage, but the decisive moment neared; Pu Dongheng usually overwhelmed opponents around the twenty-minute mark, and the clock was ticking.

Li Bangqi initially underestimated Pu Dongheng, believing he was just another Korean. However, he quickly discovered Pu Dongheng’s agility and knowledge of Chinese martial arts—arts the Koreans shamelessly claimed as their own.

Li Bangqi was taking a beating. Despite his strong physique, he’d landed only one ineffective kick on Pu Dongheng. His alarm grew with every exchange.