Such places as martial arts halls actually exist in the Seventh District as well.
But those in the Seventh District are called Martial Arts Halls, while those in the Third District are called Martial Arts Dojos, which makes a world of difference though it’s just one character off.
The forr are mostly places that teach striking techniques.
In terms of fees, environnt, and so on, there is naturally no comparison.
Hongji Martial Arts Dojo occupies five floors, with several young ladies at the front desk and nearly a hundred attendants serving the students,
while the Snake Fist Hall in front of ...
Looks more like a large gym.
"Sir, interested in strong body combat?" A young and bright female salesperson enthusiastically greeted as soon as I reached the entrance:
"Our Snake Fist Hall is an old-brand martial arts hall; the hall master is a super expert of the Second Refinent. Our annual card only costs 19,800; not only can you receive personal guidance from the hall master, but also have a seasoned martial artist as your personal trainer..."
Zhang Fusheng silently bypassed the lady salesperson—clearly a student working a sumr job, with clichéd and awkward pitch.
After paying a one-ti entry fee at the door, the female salesperson persistently caught up again.
"Sir, our single entry fee is as high as one hundred yuan, and you can only enjoy the basic facilities of the martial arts hall, without combat guidance and personal trainer. Perhaps you should consider the annual card?"
She said enthusiastically:
"Now, if you beco our esteed annual card mber, you also receive ten dietary supplent experiences and ten herbal bath experiences, with a total value of over three thousand..."
Zhang Fusheng looked at the persistent salesperson, helplessly said:
"How much commission do you get for closing a deal?"
"Five thousand..." Zhong Yue quickly covered her mouth.
"Twenty-five percent?" Zhang Fusheng clicked his tongue in wonder, "Your hall master is quite generous, giving such high commissions?"
Zhong Yue showed a bitter expression:
"Sir, why not get an annual card..... I’ll give my commission to you, so the annual card only costs 13,800!"
Having just beco a genuine martial artist, Zhang Fusheng was in a good mood and said with amused interest:
"Then you wouldn’t earn anything? What’s the point?"
The girl fidgeted, said softly:
"We also have a volu bonus, the first annual card cos with a bonus of two hundred yuan!"
Zhang Fusheng rummaged through his pockets, shrugged, and said:
"Do I look like soone with money?"
Zhong Yue seriously thought for a mont, then nodded and said:
"Yes."
Zhang Fusheng couldn’t help but laugh, looking at the na tag on the girl’s chest—Zhong Yue.
He said no more and walked into the martial arts hall. There were quite a few people in the central training area, about twenty students, following a young man practicing punches and kicks.
Zhong Yue bounced along, as if particularly fond of her first custor at work.
"The one teaching punches is our lead coach at Snake Fist Hall, Senior Brother Wang, the hall master’s top disciple, and he’s almost reached the First Refinent in martial arts. He has mastered the Snake Fist to an extraordinary degree!"
Zhang Fusheng didn’t reply, standing still to observe. This so-called lead coach certainly looked the part when throwing punches, with fists and feet cutting through the air.
But abundant in technique, lacking in power, giving a sowhat superficial impression.
"How about it?" Zhong Yue tentatively asked, "Isn’t Senior Brother Wang impressive? You could also get a monthly card and learn punches all the sa."
"And the monthly card is quite cheap, only 1,888!"
Zhang Fusheng glanced at her:
"Not interested."
He didn’t like this dogged type of pitch.
Zhong Yue’s little face fell:
"If you’re truly not interested, then you can’t linger here long. Be careful lest Senior Brother Wang notices and accuses you of stealing techniques."
She sighed:
"Should I get you a glass of water instead?"
"No need, I’m just here to try out so equipnt." Zhang Fusheng waved his hand.
"Alright then... really not getting a card?" Zhong Yue made one last effort, "Senior Brother Wang is proficient in Snake Fist; even three to five people can’t get close. He’s a renowned expert around here!"
Zhang Fusheng was getting buzzed by the noise, irritably said:
"His form is good, but lacks strength. If really surrounded by three to five people, it wouldn’t require martial skills. Just a rush, and a flurry of punches would knock him down."
His voice lifted slightly, and the training students all turned to look, including the ’lead coach.’
Zhong Yue saw Senior Brother Wang frown slightly and inwardly cried that it was bad, laughed awkwardly:
"Custor, the equipnt area is this way, follow ..."
"Hold on."
Senior Brother Wang coolly stopped them:
"This brother seems quite knowledgeable about martial techniques?"
Zhang Fusheng knew he had misspoken. People were teaching martial arts, and he had just disrupted at the side, appearing like he was there to ’undermine’ them sowhat.
He smiled a little apologetically:
"I really haven’t practiced before, just spoke carelessly — sorry."
The young man remained stern, glanced at the onlookers, and had a thought.
Calmly he said:
"Since you’ve co to a martial arts hall, you must have so foundation... Practicing form is indeed pointless, actual combat is key. How about we exchange a few moves?"
Zhang Fusheng raised a brow and repeated:
"I do not know martial arts."
He was speaking the truth, having not attended any combat technique class, he naturally did not know any form of martial arts.
He only had the strength of the First Refinent.
"No problem."
The young man strolled over, one hand behind his back, the other hand slightly raised. He gestured to Zhang Fusheng smilingly:
"I’ll give you one hand, and let you have the first three moves. Let’s see if you can get close enough to to knock down with your wild punches."
He emphasized the words ’wild punches’ heavily.
A bit petty.
Zhang Fusheng lips twitched. He ca to the Snake Fist Hall just to use the force testing machine, to see how strong he currently was...
But indeed, he was wrong first, and it’s not like he could just beat the other party.
However, seeing the lead coach’s persistent look, it seed hard to dodge.
Zhang Fusheng said nothing, moving towards the force testing machine on his own,
The young man’s face turned stern, stepping rapidly, and leaping forward, still shouting:
"Brother, perhaps you’re here to challenge! I must check your depth, see exactly...."
’Bang!’
Zhang Fusheng planted firmly, twisted his waist, swung his arm, and struck with a punch.
His fist landed on the soft pad of the force testing machine.
The numbers on the LCD soar, the electronic voice calmly reporting the score.
"Your punch force value is, 1042 pounds."
Senior Brother Wang, rushing forward, ca to an abrupt halt, his face of coldness replaced by a warm smile:
"Brother, you truly are a master; I was impolite earlier."
The fist chopping down turned into a fist clasped in respect, performing a very standard gesture.
The entire training ground fell into a deathly silence.
"One..... one thousand pounds?" Soone muttered in bewildernt, Zhong Yue blinked blankly, swallowed.
Sweat beaded on the young man’s forehead. He could tell at a glance that Zhang Fusheng’s exertion was very non-standard,
Yet, under such circumstances, the punch’s impact was half a tonne... this was absolutely a First-Refined Martial Artist!
First-Refined Martial Artists aren’t actually rare in the Federation; excluding children, about one in a hundred is a First-Refined Martial Artist.
But the problem is, among them, ninety percent are middle-aged, over thirty or even forty years old, achieving it through ti and effort...
A First-Refined Martial Artist around twenty years old would either be a direct disciple of a famous expert or a martial arts student from a prestigious school!
With these thoughts, the young man respectfully clasped his fists again.
Zhang Fusheng remained silent.
The rapid, smooth shift in attitude.... that’s also a skill.
He nodded slightly in acknowledgnt to the young man, not paying much attention—since he wouldn’t be coming back here again anyway.
Mulling over it, Zhang Fusheng tried adjusting his punching angle and force application steps, then raised his fist again, swinging it.
’Thud!!’
The force testing machine emitted a loud noise.
"Your punch force value is, 1387 pounds," the electronic voice drolly reported.
Stepping into the First Refinent, Zhang Fusheng’s arm strength likely increased by five hundred pounds, plus his original strength and the special enhancent from dietary supplents,
making his arm strength perhaps seven hundred pounds.
Here, this refers to the sustained force, like in a bench press; for instantaneous force when punching, it’s quite a bit more, doubling wouldn’t be difficult if the force is applied properly.
After adjusting his posture again, Zhang Fusheng slightly employed the Spring Thunder Technique, took a deep breath, and threw a third punch.
Along with a barely noticeable thunderous sound in his muscles and bones.
’Thud!!!’
"Your punch force value is, 2013 pounds."
The training ground was already so silent that you could only hear breathing.
Even after Zhang Fusheng had gracefully left, no one spoke, still staring mindlessly at the display screen, at that terrifying number.
"A ton..." soone muttered.
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