Chapter Sixty-One: The Art of Deceptive Warfare

When you discover that an individual, whom you believed could never possess excessive energy, actually harbors an unimaginable amount within, it’s akin to finding a vast reservoir of oil beneath barren land. Moreover, everyone seated here is a seasoned oil worker, deeply versed in the craft, experienced enough to have judged from the moment they saw Zhang Wenhao that this boy was unlikely to possess any astonishing strength. But what was the reality?

The reality was that they had joyfully unearthed a remarkable new oil field, and the energy contained within his unassuming body far exceeded everyone’s expectations.

Lei Lei had never anticipated that Zhang Wenhao would erupt with such a powerful aura in a single instant—so robust, as if strength could be discerned from appearances alone. The boy before her, when still, was like a gentle sponge, and just when she thought she could squeeze water from him, he transformed, in a heartbeat, into indestructible steel. It was utterly astonishing.

Lei Lei adored taekwondo; it was her greatest passion since she began at age ten, maintained for eight years straight. She was fervently enthusiastic about taekwondo and Sanda competitions, idolizing those masters whose every move was executed with flawless precision. She was even a superfan of WWE, fully aware that every move was choreographed, but she loved watching men battle in the ring—contesting with the most primitive, direct methods.

Around her were many friends who were top experts in taekwondo and Sanda, yet after watching merely two exchanges between Zhang Wenhao and Wang Sen, Lei Lei was convinced: those friends able to raise their legs to their temples would be utterly helpless against Zhang Wenhao!

Is real combat truly so fierce? Are every move and technique solely designed to destroy the opponent?

Wang Sen, under the astonished gazes of the crowd, climbed to his feet, completely unbothered by the fact that he had just been subdued single-handedly by a not-yet-eighteen-year-old boy with a gunshot wound. Instead, he generously praised, “Well done, boy. Your strength surpasses mine by more than just a notch!”

Lei Zhanzhun couldn’t help but clap, prompting the others to follow suit. After the applause, Lei Zhanzhun spoke admiringly, “Such a beautiful shoulder throw—dissolving a triple punch and countering in an instant! This kind of technique doesn’t even exist in the army. Well done, boy! Tell me, how did you come up with it?”

Zhang Wenhao gave a faint smile, first offering Wang Sen a grateful, apologetic smile, then turned to ask Lei Zhanzhun, “Uncle Lei, let me guess—the most important principle of real combat in the military is never to expose your back to the enemy, am I right?”

“Absolutely!” Lei Zhanzhun nodded, “Never expose your back to the enemy—that’s the first lesson in training special forces in any country. Hands and feet are a person’s most vital weapons in combat; exposing your back means your hands and feet are hard to use, which is extremely dangerous for the soldier.”

As he spoke, Lei Zhanzhun paused, as if suddenly understanding something, and exclaimed, “So that’s why you used such an unconventional method to break the triple punch! You turned your back to the opponent, but not to expose it—instead, you used your back, at the moment you seized their arm, as the strongest defense!”

Zhang Wenhao nodded, “In my view of real combat, every part of the body can be used for attack and defense. The most vulnerable place doesn’t necessarily need to be hidden forever. With reasonable use, it can produce unexpected effects.”

Zhang Xingping was dumbfounded for a long while. He hadn’t imagined that his son’s secret practice of real combat techniques would yield such a surprising result. It was truly unforgettable!

Wang Sen shook his head and laughed, “Let me guess—if the two of us were really fighting, after you floored me with a shoulder throw, your next move would be to punch or elbow my chest, rendering me instantly powerless, perhaps even dead?”

Wenhao shook his head, “After a shoulder throw, Uncle Wang, your back would hit the ground, with your entire back, hips, and even half your limbs absorbing the force. No matter how strong my throw, such a large area disperses the impact—it could never be fatal, and for someone like you, trained for years, it would barely hurt. If I rashly attacked your chest while your fists were still usable, you could counterattack, and I might be defeated.”

“What would you do, then?” Wang Sen asked curiously, then added, “If it were me, I’d definitely use the momentum as I brought the opponent down to deliver a heavy blow to the chest, aiming to end the fight as quickly as possible.”

Zhang Wenhao shook his head, “If I chose that method, I’d be surrendering control of my body to gravity. You’d have plenty of time to dodge and retaliate.”

He continued, “If it were real combat, after I threw you over my shoulder, I’d never let go of your right wrist. At the moment you hit the ground, I’d use your right arm to forcefully twist you, making you flip midair and land face down. At that point, your right arm would be dislocated, and then I’d strike from behind to finish you off.”

“Amazing!” someone in the crowd exclaimed, “With the chest on the ground, right arm dislocated, the whole person pinned down like a lamb waiting for slaughter—there’s no way out!”

Wang Sen continued to praise, “What Wenhao practices is entirely different from what we’ve seen before. His techniques are unpredictable, impossible to anticipate. If one were to really fight Wenhao, I fear he’d overturn all our traditional notions—and take our lives in the process!”

He glanced at Zhang Wenhao, “And this kid’s strength and speed are astonishing. In that moment of the shoulder throw, I felt like a pillow, effortlessly tossed aside, unable to resist in the slightest.”

Zhang Wenhao said earnestly, “In my understanding, real combat doesn’t rely on any set routines. Routines are like rules, and masters know all the rules. If you blindly use them, your intentions are easily seen through. That’s why I believe true combat adapts spontaneously to the situation, seizing every attack line, and using the simplest, most effective method to counter.”

Lei Zhanzhun couldn’t help but praise, “Wenhao, your method is so practical—it will greatly enhance real combat ability. Nowadays, our army focuses on informatization, technology, and long-range strikes, often neglecting close combat. But the brothers in the police force are always on the front lines, often relying on hand-to-hand fighting against vicious criminals. If they could learn your approach, it would be a tremendous benefit.”

Zhang Wenhao gave an embarrassed smile, “Uncle Lei, you’re overestimating me. These are just personal insights, not worth much.”

Zhanzhun shook his head, “Any technique that’s useful is a good technique, regardless of whether it was created by a ten-year-old child or a hundred-year-old elder. If there’s ever a chance, I’ll introduce you to some old friends in the police force.”

“I’d rather not,” Zhang Wenhao quickly waved his hand, “I don’t want to be treated as an oddity. Practicing real combat is just for self-defense—I don’t want to make a big fuss.”

“That’s understandable,” Lei Zhanzhun nodded. “We’ll talk about it if there’s ever an opportunity. If not, so be it. I respect your wishes.”