"What the hell? Wudang? In this day and age there's still Wudang? What is this, a kung fu movie?"
"Of course there is. You think movies can just make things up out of thin air? Adaptation doesn't mean fabrication. Storytelling isn't nonsense.
Search the Traditional Culture Preservation and Heritage Fund registry. Under the martial arts section, you'll find Wudang Internal Arts. They list instructors and school addresses. As long as they're certified, they can open schools, recruit students, and even collect yearly subsidies."
Li Pan opened the link Old Wu sent and was stunned. Over a hundred traditional martial arts were officially recognized, both Eastern and Western. The Akiyama family's kendo school wasn't on the list—guess it didn't count as "traditional" here.
Still, this world's Wudang was truly famous.
Beyond having Grandmaster Zhang Sanfeng—a legendary figure renowned across the multiverse—Wudang had once stood at its peak during the Takamagahara invasions of Zhongyuan, when Taoism was the state religion. The imperial court renovated Mount Wudang multiple times, bestowing titles like "Sacred Mountain of Governance" and "Crown of the Five Peaks." Wudang Sect towered above all others, rightful leader of the orthodox path, the number one sect in the world.
Later, when martial artists organized the Martial Alliance and joined forces with General Qi's army to repel the Japanese invaders, it was Wudang's sect leader, Master Ziyang, who was chosen as Alliance Leader. Under his command, they battled ronin and imperial ninjas in countless heroic tales—so many that they became a staple of this world's kung fu movie industry.
Unfortunately, reality was stranger than film. When the enemy couldn't win fairly, they cheated—deploying cruisers. And what could you do then? No matter how powerful Master Ziyang was, he couldn't fly into orbit. In the end, backwardness meant getting beaten.
Though Wudang eventually declined, "martial heroes versus ninjas" remained a classic theme. Many films were made, and now there were plenty of instructors teaching Wudang Internal Arts—long lists of contacts, schools, even online lessons via Superdream VR.
Cyber kung fu. Digital jianghu. What the hell…
Old Wu elaborated:
"That lunatic you heard about? He'd studied broadly, north and south, but his best techniques were Chaos Ring Skill and Tiger Claw. Those aren't things you pick up at some public dojo. That's true transmission, taught only to direct disciples.
Don't be fooled by the registry—plenty have practiced basic Wudang stances. But less than ten percent ever learn Tiger Claw. Fewer still ever touch Chaos Ring. Whoever trained that lunatic… they were a true master."
Li Pan scrolled through the list, found the "Jiufan Yubu Twin-Hook Linked Suspended Kicks" section—and noticed Old Wu wasn't there.
"Uncle Wu, why don't you open a school? Because you lost that fight? Hey, winning and losing is normal in the martial world. Isn't the subsidy nice? Would be a shame if your brilliant skills died with you. How about this—let me pay you twenty grand, and you can kick me a few more times?"
Old Wu chuckled darkly.
"Well, well. Got money now? Feeling proud? You think strapping on armor makes you tough?
Fine, broom-head. You've made it. You've got a real job. Just stick to it. If you're bored, play All-Heavens Fist King Online. They've got flashy special effects and cash prizes. Isn't that better?
And if you've got dirty work, come to me. I'll introduce you to a few sharp hands. I may limp, but my eyes still work. Twenty grand, guaranteed satisfaction—no refunds."
Li Pan pressed further.
"Don't say that, Uncle Wu. I truly think your skills shouldn't be lost. Teach me—so next time I meet that Wudang madman's disciple, I can kick him back for you. Don't you want to see traditional martial arts thrive?"
Old Wu spat.
"Thrive? Thriving my ass.
I trained because I was too poor to buy a gun. I practiced because I wanted to marry my master's daughter. I joined gangs because I was young and hot-blooded, killed a man, and could never wash my hands clean again. My leg was shattered because of my own sins—it was the retribution I deserved.
'Thrive'? Bah! At my age, still a dog for others? I've no face to open a school. Forget it. No teaching. End of story."
He hung up.
Li Pan sighed. He really did think Stabbing Foot (Chuo Jiao) was formidable. Unlike internal qi cultivation, it was a battlefield art—born from infantry formations, sword and shield combat, where you could only strike with your feet when your hands were occupied. It was brutally effective—fast, precise, ruthless. Landing a groin kick was pure satisfaction.
Now with Nine Yin Divine Skill protecting his body, every strike against monsters had extra power. He already had True Dragon Break. If he could add chained Yubu Twin Kicks… beating monsters would be punch and kick heaven.
But these traditionalists were all stubborn as donkeys. No wonder preserving culture was such a heavy burden.
While he was musing, two more fights ended in death. Then it was finally the she-wolf's turn.
Thankfully she hadn't skipped out, leaving Li Pan to forfeit half his bet. She showed up just in time—maid uniform, little shoes click-clacking as she dashed in. Clearly hadn't even had time to comb her hair—probably just finished chores.
Leticia's Hound. Her résumé was colorful: maid, assassin, mercenary, guerrilla fighter. Her skill list openly stated: Level-5 gene-enhanced soldier, bio-augmented body, trained in military combat, expert in whip-kick side strikes.
Li Pan had placed his million-entry bet on her. Four million payout if she took the championship. No hedging now—it was win or lose all.
But he knew her power. Campbell had had an eye for talent—Leticia's Hound was a favorite to win. Even if she couldn't transform into a werewolf here, her baseline was still a steel-bodied Level-5 cyborg. Three rounds of her side-kicks usually left opponents unable to even speak.
And beneath it all, that hidden werewolf bloodline—resilience, regeneration, healing. Much tougher than her glamorous looks suggested.
Unless Tianlong's veterans were uninjured, fully augmented, they couldn't match her. As long as she avoided blunders or sustained multiple heavy blows, her odds were strong.
The broadcast cut scenes for drama, and most spectators had no clue about her true power. In the live chat, many assumed this was just a typical "welfare fight"—a pretty girl for the crowd to watch get humiliated, maybe even live-sex or execution. Standard deep web fare.
But Li Pan wasn't hoping for that. He had four million riding on her. If she lost, it would cut him deeper than any knife.
Fortunately, she didn't disappoint. Two probing rounds against a gorilla-like mutant, then she feinted a grapple, snapped a side-kick to shatter his shin, followed with a back suplex, then drove a knee through his throat. Clean, decisive kill.
Online spectators raged: "The hell?! We stripped down for this? Refund!"
But this was the nature of cage fights. Too real. No flashy exchanges, no theatrical choreography. True killers ended fights in three to five rounds.
Li Pan nodded. With her skills proven, his four million looked safe. While attention stayed on the ring, he vaulted across to the opposite building, sneaking into the prep rooms.
He found Juan dumped unconscious in a hallway trash pile, nose broken, face bloody. Li Pan turned him on his side to keep him from choking.
Then he slipped on Juan's wrestling mask and sniffed out his target. Among all the sweat and stink, female pheromones stood out. Soon he tracked her to the women's changing room.
"Eighteen, jack in. Pop the lock."
Bingo. Maid outfit still warm inside the locker.
"…Boss, watching her fights is one thing. Stealing a girl's underwear is another…"
"It's not what you think! She's an adult! Anyway—check if we can plant a tracking doll."
"…Stalker vibes, boss. Really bad."
Li Pan ignored it. The she-wolf's nose was sharp—she'd know if her underwear was tampered with.
So instead he left a comm card loaded with ten thousand black credits. Hidden inside was a locator program from Eighteen, along with a cheesy note: 'Cheering for you! Do your best!' and 'Love you! Muah!' He even swiped a white stocking, just to make it look like a pervy fan's gift.
She'd never throw away ten grand. And once she used that card, he could trace the wolf pack straight back to its den. One wolf, one million. A hundred wolves—goal achieved.
Satisfied with his stealth, Li Pan returned to the spectator stands.
The fights ran fast—bloody, crippling. Soon the finals were up: Leticia's she-wolf versus Tianlong's Baji master.
Both were practical fighters—no cyber-flash.
The old master had a bad back; he needed to finish quickly. He opened with a Two-Forms stance, closing distance.
She dodged, countered with a Brazilian kick, shin whipping like a crescent blade, following with a step-in side-kick. Perfect distancing, refusing to let Baji get close.
He tucked elbows, leapt away, not foolish enough to eat her kicks head-on. Normally, high kicks meant openings—but her leg power was monstrous. His old waist couldn't withstand a clash.
Sensing weakness, she pressed—launching twin flying kicks, high kick to the head, switch to side-kick, chaining combos dazzling to watch.
He guarded, absorbing the blows, retreating under the gale of her strikes. His robe whipped in the wind, his small frame looking like he'd be blown away any second.
And sure enough—she finally landed flush, staggering him back to the rooftop edge.
Seeing her chance, she leapt—knee-first, spinning, a whirlwind kick to finish.
But too reckless.
The master bent back, letting her kick whip past, countering with a leopard-tail kick to deflect her leg, then sweeping her supporting foot.
What, only you have pretty legs? Think others can't kick too?
She lost balance, caught herself with one hand, tried a scorpion tail counter-kick—but he intercepted midair, blocking her.
Her leg skills were deadly, but once forced into close-quarters, Baji showed its true power.
Born on the battlefield, Baji was about explosive close-range force—head, shoulder, elbow, hand, hip, knee, foot—all striking points. Full-body power erupting at once. Break bones, shatter shields, kill with a shoulder rush.
Now it was his turn.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Elbows hammering like iron clubs.
Step in, brace, explode—crushing elbow!
Shoulder checks, rib strikes, diagonal chops, whip swings—one after another.
He pummeled her like a training post.
Pinned near the rooftop edge, dazed from concussive blows, she couldn't retreat or escape. Jump, and she risked being hurled clean off. She had no choice but to stand and take it.
Blow after blow—bones cracking, face split open by an elbow slash from brow to jaw. Blood streamed down. Her eyes glazed.
The crowd roared. Li Pan screamed over them, frantic:
"No! Don't! Hold on! Fight back! Four million! My four million!"
But screaming was useless. The master landed an elbow to her temple, spinning her neck sideways. Then he unleashed a Heaven-Piercing Cannon—both fists to the gut—BOOM! She was blasted off the rooftop, slamming into the wall across the street, webbing cracks through the concrete.
The old master exhaled raggedly, clutching his waist, collapsing in sweat.
The she-wolf's eyes were vacant. Her head drooped. She toppled from the roof into the trash below.
The match was over.
"…Ah… what!?"
Li Pan was speechless.
Defeat. Total wipeout.
The streetlights seemed too bright.
Come to think of it… had he ever won a bet? Gambling was poison.
Old Wu called again, cheerful.
"Heh, promising girl. Strong body, but clearly self-taught. No real coaching. A shame. Ha! So, broom-head, how much did you win? Gonna share?"
"Win?!"
Li Pan checked Wu's original seed list. Sure enough, Leticia's Hound was ranked fourth. The top seed was this Baji old master: Liu Heitu, once a Double-Flower Red Pole of Tianlong, a top enforcer.
"Damn…"
He'd underestimated him. He'd thought youth would beat age. Who knew an old waist could still win?
Numb. Should've surrendered for half back.
On the rooftop, Liu Heitu still knelt, unable to straighten. Maybe the kicks had done damage—or maybe it was no act.
"Uncle Wu, this Liu… this Master Liu… did he also fight that Wudang madman back then?"
"Of course. Back then, I competed with Heitu for Red Pole. We were equals. But higher mountains always exist. In the end, we both lost to that Wudang lunatic.
We were too proud then. Thought we could fight fair. He showed restraint, held back, so we didn't gang up. Maybe if we had… no, truth is, if I hadn't stuck to 'honorable' duels, I'd probably have died on the spot.
Heitu was better than me—ten moves against that lunatic, where I only lasted eight kicks. He's a gambler now, broke. If you want martial arts, learn from him."
…
So just what kind of monster was that Wudang man?
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⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.
Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.
One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.
Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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