First-Year Internship—And You Went to Site 749 to Contain Monsters?!
Chapter 232: Guard-Up Fist Opening, One Finger at Central Plains, Elbow Drop to Shoulder, Inch Force Cracks the Skull

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The Chief Instructor nodded with satisfaction: “Not bad, well done.”

Actually, he’d been here for a while, hidden in the shadows—not just as a precaution against unknowns, but also to see how Lu Ding would handle things.

The way Lu Ding handled it now—he was quite pleased.

But protocol still had to be followed.

“Remember to take your law enforcement recorder to the counselor for syncing, and submit your mission while you're at it.”

With that—

The Chief Instructor turned and walked away, not a hint of hesitation.

Lu Ding watched his retreating figure, feeling like it reminded him of someone, but couldn’t quite put his finger on who.

Suddenly, he recalled Second Master Bai yelling earlier—"Li Chenglong."

Such a familiar name, and now this departing figure...

In a flash, Lu Ding thought of Teacher Li Xuanlong from Yunhai.

He turned to ask Song Chunfeng, who hadn’t left: “Instructor Song, what’s our Chief Instructor’s full name…”

“Li Chenglong.”

“You’re from Yunhai—I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right. Our Chief Instructor is indeed related to your Instructor Li Xuanlong.”

“Father and son?”

Bai Hemen craned his neck and chimed in.

The moment those words came out—

The Chief Instructor’s steps halted.

He turned around his gruff, barely-human face.

“Do I look that old to you!!”

“Bai Hemen!”

Bai Hemen snapped to attention: “Here!”

“Run ten laps around the plaza!”

Bai Hemen: “Yes, sir!”

Once the order was issued, the Chief Instructor muttered and stomped off.

The plaza wasn’t large—ten laps was nothing more than a tea break for Bai Hemen.

The Chief Instructor wasn’t seriously punishing him—

He just couldn’t accept people thinking he was that old.

After Bai Hemen started running, Song Chunfeng finally said with a helpless tone: “They’re brothers.”

“He’s too quick on the draw—I hadn’t even said anything and he already jumped in.”

“It’s fine. Let him run for a bit. Stubborn as he is, trying to act clever? He deserves it.”

As they spoke, the two locked eyes.

Song Chunfeng crossed his arms and bowed slightly: “Please give me a lesson!”

He’d said before—he didn’t treat Lu Ding as a student, and Lu Ding shouldn’t treat him like an instructor either.

Since Song Chunfeng lost last time—

This time, he opened with a formal challenge.

Lu Ding returned the salute: “You’re too polite.”

Song Chunfeng spread his hands, spiritual energy coating both palms, aiming to replicate Lu Ding’s zero-delay startup.

But when his palms struck—

Lu Ding didn’t dodge or block. He didn’t even uncross his arms—he simply stepped forward.

BOOM!!!

The shockwave burst out.

Song Chunfeng stumbled back several steps, his eyes filled with seriousness, and his hands went slightly numb.

Just from that one contact, Song Chunfeng already knew—he was definitely going to lose today.

Still, the fight had to happen!

But he didn’t use any spells—this was just sparring, after all.

And Lu Ding’s techniques… forget the rest, just that stele from earlier—once that came out, it wasn’t sparring anymore. No fun in that.

Thinking that—

Song Chunfeng swung his arms, chest sunk and back stretched, shoulders dropped and elbows weighed down, hands forming claw shapes in front and behind to open the stance.

“White-Brow Fist is fierce, Lu Ding, be careful.”

As he spoke, Song Chunfeng lunged—going for center, pressing close, short strikes with raw force.

Lu Ding didn’t know any formal fist techniques.

But with Oneness with Heaven and Man, his perception was off the charts. Add to that all his brawling and copying moves from others, plus his terrifying physique—

He wasn’t afraid of Song Chunfeng.

Guard-up fist opening, one finger aimed at Central Plains.

Elbow dropped to shoulder, inch force cracked the skull.

Paired kicks scraped bone low to the ground.

Crab-claw hands reached close to dislocate muscles and tendons.

Short bridge, narrow stance, kicks aimed above the chest—completely unreasonable.

Midline hard strike, hand raised to brow—it was f**king absurd!!!

BANG!!!!

Song Chunfeng took a punch to the forehead, recoiling fast with stars dancing before his eyes, rubbing the spot nonstop as it swelled up like a horn.

His face and body—no part was left unbruised.

He raised his hand in surrender: “Stop stop stop!!! I give up, I give up!”

“Who the h*ll taught you this? Short bridge, narrow stance, kicking above the chest? Midline attack with hand raised to the brow? That’s all nonsense! Didn’t you feel it was awkward throwing those moves?”

He was absolutely dumbfounded.

Every move was outside his framework of understanding.

And the worst part? They all worked—he had no defense against them.

Each hit didn’t just hurt physically, it made his soul yell WTF.

Short bridge, narrow stance—you're not supposed to kick above the chest. If you do, your stance opens up and you overexert.

Lu Ding started with a paired kick sweeping the shinbone. After hitting Song Chunfeng’s shin, he immediately launched upward—

Kicked him right under the chin.

Midline hard strike, raising hand above brow—against the rules! Midline attacks are meant to be tight and efficient, maximizing power in the narrowest space.

If your hand goes above your brow, your center opens up.

But Lu Ding raised it anyway. Missed the strike—then instantly switched to a Crane Beak. That peck—he even used inch force!!!

Song Chunfeng felt like his skull was about to split open!

So much random knowledge flooding his head, he almost blacked out.

“I thought it felt pretty natural.”

If it works, that’s what matters.

Forget logic.

Oneness with Heaven and Man handles the intangible nonsense—fate spoon-feeds you.

White Snake Scale-Shake handles the visible nonsense—fate adds extra power.

Lu Ding just threw punches and trained.

Results? Ask heaven.

“I... you...”

Song Chunfeng was at a loss for words. This old-school master just ran into a new-school lunatic.

And he couldn’t even call Lu Ding wrong—

Because he lost.

After stammering a while, Song Chunfeng limped away, aching all over.

Upon closer look—

No wonder he couldn’t generate force—Lu Ding had dislocated his wrist.

“Rituals are dead!!!”

Bai Hemen returned from his ten laps: “Did he admit defeat?”

“Kind of half admitted.”

Bai Hemen was confused.

“There's such a thing as half admitting defeat?”

Lu Ding nodded: “Because when he started the fight, he already knew he’d lose. That’s the half where he’s accepted it.”

“And the other half?”

“I didn’t follow the path he expected.”

Bai Hemen tried to process that: “Man’s weird. Lost is lost—why split hairs?”

To that, Lu Ding gave an example.

“Remember that chicken leg we had last time? Tasted good?”

“Delicious!”

“When we get back, have Feifan cook it for you with two pounds of yellow wine. No water.”

“Huh??? Wait—no, that’s not right.”

Bai Hemen couldn’t even imagine. Chicken cooked with two pounds of wine and no water? That’s edible?!

That sentence triggered a keyword.

Lu Ding tilted his head, crossed his eyes in jest.

“What do you mean not right? It’s perfect!”

Bai Hemen frowned, his eyes darting around.

Lu Ding laughed: “Hahaha let’s go, time to submit the mission. On the way, I’ll ask what the hell this Rolling Dragon Wall thing is.”

He still remembered the process at the advanced training facility:

Study, Scouting Winds Slay the Dragon, Rolling Dragon Wall, and East Asian Monster Room Battle Royale.

Three out of four made sense.

But that Rolling Dragon Wall?

He still had no clue.