130: Chapter 50: Tripping Up 130: Chapter 50: Tripping Up “I can’t beat you either.

What’s the point of talking about revenge?

It’s just fate,”

Hiroshi Matsushima said, picking up the storage device.

“Old Hammer…

Hammer.

Yes, I remember him.

He joined us thirty-nine years ago, only in his teens at the time, mainly practicing Mech Armor Iron Fist but skilled at striking later but arriving first.

Relying on his innate speed to fight speed with speed, waiting for the opponent to reveal a weakness, then striking their weakest with his strongest.

It’s a gift hardwired into his genes, which others can only envy.

But this natural advantage also became his crutch.

He placed too much importance on ‘strike later but arrive first,’ obsessed with ‘defense and counterattack.’ I warned him that wasn’t good, but he wouldn’t listen.

How many feints did you use when you killed him?”

“Teacher has a discerning eye,” Xiang Shan replied with a smile.

“Two successive feints, tricking him into changing his moves three times, seizing a moment and leading him to his demise.”

Although the final blow was delivered with the Sonicon Blade, from the perspective of Martial Studies Tactics, the outcome was decided the moment he pushed Old Hammer next to the ‘Mule,’ and everything was destined.

“Sometimes that’s just the way a person is,” Hiroshi Matsushima said.

“He seemed stable, but was impatient at heart, always looking to stand out, to secure a stable position, and then to fulfill the duty of passing on his genes.

He wanted his child to have the chance to test for the threshold of the Protectors.

Despite appearing composed, deep down, he was eager beyond compare.”

“Before he maxed out his prosthetic body modification rate, he liked his sweet gum.

Shortly after he joined, he was already thinking about maxing it out.

I advised him against it then, too, telling him unless he had extra money to get a second prosthetic body specifically for sensing, there was no turning back.

With his speed, it would take another three years of training before he could compete in the city’s weekly matches.

He’d be better off eating sweet gum and drinking cool water for those three years.

But he wouldn’t listen.”

“Logically, someone who’s impatient should not adopt defense and counterattack routines.

They should be straightforward, or they’ll eventually be tricked by feints into leaving themselves wide open.

In the life-and-death struggles of Jianghu, if someone snatches the rhythm, it’s a matter of life and death.

But because of his innate quick reflexes, he continued to fight in this style for the sake of a few points in the leagues up to now.”

“Meeting a real master and getting killed, there’s nothing to complain about.”

Xiang Shan said, “If you truly feel it’s unfair…”

“I indeed can’t beat you.

Even if you were willing to seal your Internal Strength for a match with me, it would be meaningless.

You certainly wouldn’t be willing to lose your life over someone like Hammer—you must have your greater cause.

Even if I truly did manage to beat you, in the end, you would probably unseal your Internal Strength.

Besides, just in terms of External Strength, I’m not sure I could take you down,” Hiroshi Matsushima stated.

“What’s the point in comforting oneself?”

“What I just talked to you about, Great Hero, wasn’t a complaint.

It was just my hope that you could remember such a person.

If, in the future in your acts of valor, you find that sparing some of these recruited folks poses no risk to your own safety, leaving them a chance to live would be more than appreciated.”

Xiang Shan nodded and said, “I always emphasize to my disciples that humans judging and killing other humans is ultimately wrong.

Alas, ‘freedom’, ‘equality’, ‘justice’, ‘rule of law’ are virtually nonexistent in this world.

It’s just about using ‘not-so-bad means’ to prevent ‘the worst from happening.'”

Xiang Shan respected the old Boxer’s philosophy, and Hiroshi Matsushima honored the Martial Ancestor’s chivalry.

Xiang Shan was not a man who took pleasure in killing; still, he held firmly that those who sought their own death should not be indulged.

Yet, the words of Hiroshi Matsushima were indeed worthy of respect.

This old man, who had reached the pinnacle of his External Strength, could have chosen to break the golden rope, shatter the jade lock, and wander Jianghu unfettered by the whims of the Protectors.

But he chose instead to lie low, willingly driven to support the Martial Arts School and preserve its legacy in Jianghu.

That indeed qualifies him for the title of “Hero.”

In some respects, he also earned the title of “Bravery.”

Just like the spies of many years past who abandoned humanoid prosthetic bodies and assumed the forms of small animals to steal information.

Hiroshi Matsushima never mastered a shred of Internal Strength.

Staying here was a tremendous risk for him.

Associating with a mysterious Internal Strength Master wasn’t without risks either.

He gave a courteous bow to the old Boxer.

“I don’t deserve such praise.

I’m just trying to survive by flattering the Great Hero with a few words, which also serves as a good explanation should the Protectors ask,” Matsushima stated.

“I’m simply living my life.”

“I’ve also fulfilled your disciple’s last wishes,” Xiang Shan said.

“And learned a thing that piqued my curiosity.”

He extended his hand, but it was in a gesture for a handshake.

“So, old sir, this is where we part.

The road of Jianghu is long, and we shall probably never meet again.”

Matsushima’s lips quivered slightly, revealing a faint smile as he extended his hand in kind.

Within their extraordinary perception, the two hands slowly drew closer.

Both were minutely adjusting the angles of their elbows and wrists, directing the release of energy.

It was just an exchange, only one move.

Before their palms collided, they had already exchanged several feints, engaging in mental combat across several rounds.

Then, their hands, seemingly ordinary, struck each other.

The next moment, Xiang Shan stepped back half a pace.

Beneath Matsushima’s feet, the floor showed faint cracks.

Xiang Shan said no more, exiting directly through the back door.

He habitually hacked the surrounding cameras; no one knew he had been there.

Holding the storage device, Matsushima stood silently in the room for a moment, as if reminiscing about something.

After a long while, he sighed, “Good boxing technique.”

After Xiang Shan left, he didn’t go straight away; instead, he found a spot from which he could see the house and quietly monitored the signal transmission inside.

For one thing, it was to prevent the Old Boxer from turning to the government—although Xiang Shan respected what the Old Boxer had done, one must guard against others.

Secondly, it was to see if he would contact that mysterious Internal Strength Master.

Of course, the latter was the main reason.

He wasn’t really afraid of the other party reporting to the authorities, after all, Deborah’s death couldn’t be concealed.

The government sentencing “Heavenly Punishment” to “Wild Myth” was a sign that they determined Deborah had failed her mission and perished.

For a long time, not a single signal was transmitted from inside that house.

Xiang Shan couldn’t help but be distracted.

Perhaps it was because of the “Teacher” persona of Hiroshi Matsushima.

Teachers like Liu Zhenghui and Jing Hongtu from his past came to mind.

And then he remembered his parents.

Most of them are probably not around anymore.

That’s what Xiang Shan thought.

The original Benchmark Man Gene Therapy used viruses to introduce foreign genes into every cell of the human body, supplemented by a lot of hormones and surgery, to ensure the body’s transformation process.

The whole process would be accompanied by a sharp increase in body temperature—and this process was the most dangerous.

A temperature of forty-three to forty-four degrees Celsius was the stage where death was most likely.

For the flesh of Homo sapiens, this was too hot and could lead to multi-organ failure.

Yet for the cells of Benchmark Man, it was too cold, insufficient to sustain life.

Beyond that, there were a series of problems such as rejection reactions.

The younger the age, the weaker the rejection reaction.

But infants and young children would find it very difficult to survive the temperature rise.

From puberty to young adulthood was the best age range to undergo Gene Therapy.

Even though technicians worked tirelessly to eventually reduce the death rate to a level acceptable to all mankind, for the elderly…

there was still no solution.

Elderly people with a lot of underlying diseases could not enjoy this process, the death rate was simply too high.

Xiang Shan’s company refused to offer this service to people over the age of 65.

Liu Zhenghui, Jing Hongtu, and even Xiang Shan’s parents, were already in their fifties and sixties 28 years ago.

In Xiang Shan’s memory, all people could possibly still be alive, but them…

They might be the last generation of humans with natural lifespans not exceeding two hundred years old.

The friends in Xiang Shan’s memory might still be alive, but those elderly are truly gone.

In that moment, a sense of “loneliness in a foreign land” became even stronger.

How many people have lived from that era to now?

Did the Old Hero who crashed near Jupiter half a year ago have anything to do with his past?

Xiang Shan looked up at the sky, lost in thought.

Hours later, after confirming that no news could be gathered, he slowly left.

Several more hours passed before a well-rested Hiroshi Matsushima emerged from the house.

He walked along Fourteenth Avenue and soon arrived inside the Martial Arts School, in the Training Room reserved for himself.

After confirming there was no one around, he opened a concealed compartment and entered a small underground chamber.

This chamber was really not large, slightly smaller than the room, and not less deep than the foundation, to avoid the Protectors accidentally digging it up one day if they whimsically decided to dig tunnels.

Inside was a head.

The skull of this head had been damaged, exposing the Brain-Machine Barrier.

However, many components were temporarily set aside.

Hiroshi Matsushima took out an injection from the cold storage on one side and gently inserted it into the brain.

“Ouch!” the brain suddenly exclaimed.

Hiroshi Matsushima asked indifferently, “Does it hurt?

Any other sensations?”

“I think I’m almost recovered, Senior Brother,” the head called out.

“Give me a Prosthetic Body, and I can walk on my own.”

“Nonsense,” Hiroshi Matsushima said.

“Your brain is not fully recovered yet, you can’t exert full strength with your internal and external skills.

If I let you out now, you’d be caught by the Protectors right away, and then you might bring trouble to our Martial Arts School.

My only lifelong wish is to continue our Master’s Martial Arts School.”

“Come on, Senior Brother,” the head shouted.

“If you were truly only concerned about the continuity of the Martial Arts School, you wouldn’t have saved me half a year ago!

I know there’s a fire in your heart too!

A true man should be a Hero!

You’ve already repaid what the Martial Arts School teacher gave you, and more!”

“Nonsense,” Hiroshi Matsushima shook his head.

“I’m old after all, my Martial Arts are set, I can’t do ‘Restoring.’ Forcibly constructing the Divine Realm could potentially ruin my century of accumulated external skills cultivation.”

Hiroshi Matsushima actually understood; he had no chance of becoming a Hero anymore.

Just like the disciple who died a few days ago, he too was held back by his own self.