Chapter 33

When Zhao Jin asked this question, Zhao Zhenxing burst out laughing and shook his head, saying, "I always thought you were a little adult, but it turns out you're still a child. There's no such thing as an undefeated fighter in a fight."

Saying this, Zhao Zhenxing's expression became very serious, and he spoke in a reasonable tone: "Win when you can, lose when you must, run when you can't fight. Winning and losing are trivial matters; life and death are major issues. As long as you're alive, you can make up for anything."

Zhao Jin nodded repeatedly. After Zhao Zhenxing finished speaking, he scratched his head and asked, "I never fight to the end. If I lose, people might think I'm a coward."

Zhao Zhenxing laughed out loud again. He knew his nephew's calculations, but saying them so straightforwardly made it seem very sincere and simple. After thinking for a moment, Zhao Zhenxing turned to the wall, took out a five-foot wooden pole, and handed it to Zhao Jin. He also took one of similar length and said, "Do your best to attack. Uncle will gauge your skills."

Taking the wooden pole, Zhao Jin held it level and looked at his uncle, coughing a bit and asking with some concern, "Second Uncle, can your body handle it?"

Zhao Zhenxing couldn't help but laugh again, even coughing a bit. After finally steadying his breath, he said with a smile, "You kid, even if I cough up my lungs, I won't be injured by you. Come on!"

Zhao Jin took a deep breath, bent his waist, and kicked forward, rushing forward with his arms swinging. Zhao Zhenxing stood still, and with a quick movement of his short stick, he deflected Zhao Jin's stick and struck his wrist. The pain in his wrist made Zhao Jin drop the stick.

"Again," Zhao Jin was taken aback, thinking that he had said the same thing during the fight today.

Six times in a row, Zhao Zhenxing's short stick struck Zhao Jin's wrist, shoulder, and even his chest with little force, stopping just short of causing real harm. But with each strike, Zhao Jin couldn't continue.

Seeing Zhao Jin's disheartened look, Zhao Zhenxing smiled and said gently, "You've only been practicing for less than two months, but your strength and posture are already quite good. It's impressive that a ten-year-old can focus and work hard."

Just as Zhao Jin was about to speak, Zhao Zhenxing, as if knowing what he was thinking, continued with a smile, "You practice spear techniques, and you have a high aptitude and have put in a lot of effort. Although you're not at the peak, you should have a fifty-fifty chance against Chen Sheng's sword techniques."

Chen Sheng and Wang Zhaojing have about the same level of skill. According to his uncle's words, he is on par with these two strongest. Zhao Jin knew very well that his second uncle cared for him.

"Second Uncle, he has been practicing for many years, and I have only been practicing for a short time. Besides, we mainly compete in hand-to-hand combat." Zhao Jin's words and actions were becoming more like those of his peers.

Zhao Zhenxing put down the wooden pole, nodded, and continued, "In terms of practice time, even in terms of strength and fighting experience, there are those who are stronger than you. However, you have something they can't match: you can adapt and won't rigidly apply what you've learned. But the most important thing is that you have a spirit, a spirit of courage to move forward. As a martial artist, this is fundamental."

Getting excited, Zhao Zhenxing's face turned an abnormal red: "On the battlefield, what martial arts can you use? Even if you've practiced for ten or twenty years, if you're scared to the point of trembling, you'll be finished. Only with the will to kill and the heart to fight, moving forward without hesitation, can you survive."

Bending down, Zhao Zhenxing stared at Zhao Jin and said, "As long as you bring out this determination and courage, you won't lose in the competition!"

Zhao Jin took a deep breath, and his uncle's words boosted his confidence.

But to his surprise, after all the talk, his uncle didn't teach him any special moves or killer techniques in the afternoon training. It was still the usual routine, and there was no room for any slack.

At dinner, Zhao Zhentang, who had been in a bad mood for several days, finally showed a bit of a smile. He said that the official Mr. Wang from the capital was a good person. Because the prefecture office had been busy non-stop these days, Mr. Wang told Prefect Tong today that the local people were too troubled and that this was too much of a show.

Since the key person had spoken, everyone in the office was also full of complaints, so Prefect Tong decided to let it go.

"According to Zheng Hushu, Mr. Wang is only in his forties, in the prime of his life. I thought he was older and had returned to Xuzhou... But it turns out he's like our family, with only one son, and they are about the same age..."

This made Zhao Jin very curious. Forty-something is the prime of an official's career. Why would he retire? Just as he was thinking about this, Zhao Zhentang brought the topic back to Zhao Jin: "Mr. Wang's son will definitely become a scholar and an official, unlike you, who just goes out to fight and wastes food every day."

Hearing this, Zhao Jin couldn't help but lower his head and smile, thinking that you definitely don't know that Mr. Wang's son was fighting with us happily at the cargo yard today.

After the strength training, Zhao Jin washed up and went to bed. With decades of memories, there were too many and too complex, and the useful ones were few. The closer the time, the clearer the memory, such as the books he heard his friends read while in bed, which he could remember a lot.

What truly made Zhao Jin feel helpless and wry was that he remembered little of the historical things he had learned in school, which were not very useful in society and were almost forgotten.

Closing his eyes, the heat from the brick bed rose, and his memories turned into random thoughts. Zhao Jin found himself looking forward to the competition the next day. At least he could fight the whole match. With this thought, Zhao Jin fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, after running and eating, He Cuihua commented, "I wonder what this child has encountered. He's so happy."

In the morning, Zhao Jin was practicing martial arts, and Zhao Zhenxing was polishing a five-foot-long pole with sandpaper and carving shallow grooves on the grip with a small knife.

After lunch, Chen Sheng and his brother came to find Zhao Jin. Before leaving, Zhao Zhenxing patted Zhao Jin's head and said, "Don't be too concerned about winning or losing. If you've never lost, they won't be your friends."

On the way to the cargo yard, Zhao Jin kept thinking about these words. His uncle was right, but the most important thing now was to win.

Today, Zhao Jin was carrying a short wooden pole. Chen Sheng was curious and asked, but Zhao Jin didn't explain what the short pole was, only saying, "Today, I will fight to the end!"

Chen Sheng didn't ask further but smiled all the way.

Wang Zhaojing arrived early today, with a three-tier steamer basket wrapped in a cotton cover, from which steam was still rising. Sun Dalei was holding a blue cloth bundle.

The competition at the cargo yard involved four parties providing prizes, and the number of prizes was increasing, but the rules remained unchanged. This meant that the first-place winner would receive more and more prizes.

As usual, in the round of sixteen, Zhao Jin faced Sun Dalei, who was now one of the toughest opponents, with both strength and skill. Even Chen Sheng would be at a disadvantage against him.

"Today, I will fight to the end and won't leave early," Zhao Jin said with a smile before the match, as everyone knew he would leave halfway through. Losing to him was no big deal, and some people would deliberately lose or hold back when fighting him.

Hearing this, Sun Dalei pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and became more serious.

The match began, and Zhao Jin bowed and charged forward. Everyone knew that fighting Sun Dalei, the fat guy, required not getting too close and running after each attack, starting by dodging and circling.

But Zhao Jin ignored this and charged straight at him. Sun Dalei spread his arms, exposing a gap in his chest and abdomen. Zhao Jin knew this was a trick; if you got closer, he would grab you and throw you. But Zhao Jin still moved forward, punching Sun Dalei's stomach, one punch, two punches... Sun Dalei's hands had already grabbed Zhao Jin's shoulders.

But then Sun Dalei's mouth twitched, he let go, took a few steps back, and clutched his stomach. Zhao Jin had thrown several dozen punches, and even though Sun Dalei's stomach was thick, he couldn't take the pain. Seeing Zhao Jin about to follow up, Sun Dalei quickly admitted defeat.

"Good fight, good fight!" A girl nearby cheered. Turning around, Mu Shulan had already arrived.

---

End of the page.