mesbooks Chapter 35 The Storm Rises in Shanghai
Chapter 35 The Storm Rises in Shanghai
The base's indoor training hall was brightly lit.
The atmosphere, however, was so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.
On one side of the training hall stood Ma Cong and his twenty teammates. They were dressed in matching black training uniforms, standing ramrod straight with solemn expressions.
On the other side of the training hall was the newly arrived US delegation.
There were only a dozen or so of them, but each of them was burly and imposing. They wore desert-colored combat uniforms, and their faces showed relaxed, even somewhat nonchalant expressions, which contrasted sharply with the serious atmosphere on the Chinese side.
Their gazes swept over Ma Cong and his teammates, their eyes filled with undisguised scrutiny and a hint of contempt.
In their eyes, these Chinese soldiers, who were generally a size smaller than them, were like a group of children who hadn't grown up yet.
Especially when their gaze fell on Ma Cong, who stood at the very front of the line and looked rather "thin," several people couldn't help but chuckle softly.
"Hey George, look at that guy who's the leader, is he even an adult? I feel like I could punch him all the way to the moon," a burly white man joked in English to his companion.
"Shut up, Tom." A cold voice came from behind them.
The one speaking was their head instructor, "The Butcher."
He was a black man nearly two meters tall, with skin as black as charcoal and muscles bulging all over his body. His face was expressionless, and his eyes were like two cold knives, making people afraid to look him in the eye.
He didn't look at Ma Cong, but instead turned his gaze to General Zhou, who was standing next to Ma Cong.
"Zhou, long time no see." The butcher's voice was deep and hoarse, like two rusty pieces of iron rubbing against each other.
"Butcher, welcome to China," General Zhou replied expressionlessly.
There was no polite small talk between the two. The air was thick with tension.
"Shall we stick to the old rules?" the butcher asked bluntly.
"Of course." General Zhou nodded. "Three one-on-one matches. No protective gear, no round limits. Until one side concedes or loses the ability to fight."
"Very good." A cruel smile spread across the butcher's lips. "I like this rule."
He turned around and beckoned to one of his teammates behind him.
"George, you play the first game. Let's finish it quickly and not waste everyone's time."
"Yes, sir!"
The man named George came out.
He is the Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu master who was mentioned by General Zhou before, a fourth-degree black belt and a two-time world champion.
He didn't look as burly as his companions, but he was extremely well-proportioned with long limbs, like a cheetah poised to pounce.
He took off his shirt, revealing his bronze, well-defined muscles.
He cracked his neck and wrists, making a series of crisp "crackling" sounds, and then walked to the fighting mat in the center of the training hall.
He beckoned to the Chinese side with his finger, his face displaying undisguised provocation.
On the Chinese side, all the team members turned their attention to Ma Cong.
Their eyes were filled with a longing to fight.
Especially Shi Lei, whose fists were clenched so tightly they turned white.
He longed to personally take to the field and test his skills using the traditional Chinese martial arts he had learned in the past few days.
However, Ma Cong simply watched the jujitsu master calmly without making any move.
General Zhou frowned.
"Teacher Ma, who should go up on our side?" he asked in a low voice.
According to the previous plan, although Ma Cong said he would play three games, they still arranged for players as backups.
Ma Cong didn't answer him, but turned to look at Shi Lei.
"What do you think of him?"
Shi Lei paused for a moment, then understood what Ma-Cong meant. He was being tested.
He carefully observed the man named George and said in a deep voice, "His lower body is very stable, and his core strength is extremely strong. His center of gravity is very low, and he moves in a small area, like a snake. All his movements are aimed at getting close and dragging the fight to the ground. Once he gets entangled with you, it will be very dangerous."
"That's well said." Ma Cong nodded. "So, if you were to play, how would you plan to fight?"
Shi Lei pondered for a moment and replied, "Keep your distance, use punches and kicks to prevent him from getting close. Play to our tough style and try to knock him out before he gets close."
This is the standard fighting method for Sanda (Chinese kickboxing) against Jiu-Jitsu.
After listening, Ma Cong shook his head.
"If you were in a boxing ring, wearing gloves, you might have a 50% chance of winning with this fighting style."
"But here, it's bare-handed. Believe it or not, if he grabs your fist or leg even once, just once, you've lost."
Ma Cong's tone was calm, but Shi Lei's heart sank.
He knew that what Teacher Ma said was true.
A Jiu-Jitsu master's hand is like an iron clamp. Once grabbed, the subsequent joint locks and chokeholds will come like a tidal wave.
"Then... how should we play?" Shi Lei humbly asked.
Ma Cong smiled but did not answer.
He simply took a step and walked towards the center of the field.
"I'll take this one."
As he walked, he took off his coat, revealing a black vest underneath.
His muscles, which weren't exaggerated but possessed a streamlined beauty, were clearly visible under the lights.
Seeing Ma Cong personally take to the field, the Chinese team members held their breath, their eyes filled with anticipation.
Meanwhile, on the American side, a burst of suppressed laughter erupted.
"Oh? Their instructors personally participated?"
"He looks like a high school student. George, be gentle, don't make him cry."
The jujitsu expert named George also looked Ma Cong up and down, a hint of disdain flashing in his eyes.
In his view, his opponent was not in the same league as him in terms of either weight or strength.
He didn't even bother to do anything to test the waters anymore.
He just wanted to end this ridiculous contest within ten seconds.
Ma Cong walked up to George and stood still.
The two were less than three meters apart.
The butcher glanced at General Zhou, asking with his eyes whether it was permissible to begin.
General Zhou then turned his gaze to Ma Cong.
Ma Cong nodded slightly to General Zhou.
General Zhou took a deep breath, raised his hand, and then swung it down sharply!
"start!"
With his command.
That Jiu-Jitsu expert named George has moved!
His body suddenly sank downwards, shooting towards Ma Cong's lower body like an arrow released from a bow!
This is a standard, textbook low takedown!
His speed was incredibly fast!
He was absolutely confident that he could grab the other person's legs within 0.5 seconds and drag him into the most familiar, yet most deadly, world on the ground!
However, just as he was about to grab Ma Cong's legs...
Ma Cong also moved.
He neither retreated nor dodged to the side.
He simply raised his right foot.
Then, towards George's face, which was pressed closer by his forward momentum.
Simply put.
He stepped on it.