Chapter 187: The Farce Ends
Zhou You nodded. "Just like a regular sparring session, no need to worry."
Agula clasped his fists in salute once more.
Agula came from the grasslands and had grown up tumbling and wrestling. It wasn't until college that he discovered the appeal of Sanda, and he stumbled upon the Sanda gym, where he practiced every now and then.
He had seen Zhou You train at the gym, watched him spar with Li Houliang, and was especially impressed after learning Zhou You hadn't been training long. But Zhou You rarely practiced with the students—only the coaches served as his sparring partners. There was no chance to engage with him, so who would have guessed he was a university professor who had also signed up for this competition?
It was truly a case of "seeking far and wide only to find it right under your nose."
Agula cherished this match. He stepped onto the platform in a defensive stance. Zhou You looked a bit odd—his posture resembled Sanda defense but wasn't quite the same. Something felt off.
Still, it didn't matter. A low leg whip struck Agula's calf. Though the protective gear cushioned the blow and the force wasn't immense, Agula didn't budge. Zhou You realized his opponent had solid fundamentals and couldn't afford to be careless.
He grew cautious, slowly circling Agula while pondering his tactics. His reach wasn't advantageous, and with all the protective gear, it was better to rely more on kicks.
Agula, having taken that kick, felt the sting in his calf despite not moving. In his eyes, Zhou You's casual strike carried that much power; without protection, his center of gravity would have shifted. Agula knew his own strengths—tall with long limbs, relying on his hands to strike. Whether in wrestling or Sanda, his legwork was weak, but his lower body was rock-solid from years of wrestling practice.
The surrounding audience grew worried when they saw a tall, sturdy guy—a size bigger than Zhou You—step up, especially the Library Science students. In the stands, Ina remained calm, aware of Zhou You's abilities. The opponent's height and weight were similar to Li Houliang's, but he definitely lacked Li Houliang's skill, so there was nothing to fear.
Just as she was relaxing, the scene suddenly shifted.
Zhou You saw Agula throw a probing straight punch and responded with a front kick aimed at the chest—legs are longer than arms. But he didn't realize Agula's punch was a feint, meant to bait him into kicking so he could use a throwing technique. Seeing Zhou You take the bait, Agula immediately pulled his arms back, tightly grabbing Zhou You's right leg, ready to hurl him.
Gasps erupted from the audience. Ina's eyes widened—this was the same move Zhou You had used to toss her with no resistance. She wondered if he had a counter.
Zhou You, with his leg caught, wasn't panicked. In fact, he felt a bit amused. He was something of an expert at leg grabs and had long thought of a counter. Following the direction of Agula's force, he launched his left leg into the air, twisted with powerful core strength, and landed a kick directly on Agula's head.
Agula was dazed and dizzy. If Zhou You hadn't pulled back some force, it could have been a direct KO. Even so, Agula staggered and collapsed to the ground.
Zhou You quickly went over to check on him and, seeing he was fine, breathed a sigh of relief. Hurting someone badly wouldn't be good.
The crowd erupted, amazed at the sudden reversal in the blink of an eye. They couldn't help but cheer—it was thrilling.
Ina was stunned too. So that's how you counter it. But thinking it over, she knew she couldn't pull it off. The move required precise timing—rising just as the opponent exerted force, or you'd be flung away. It also demanded immense core strength to support the motion. Her face flushed as she realized—no wonder Zhou You was so strong; that was the root of it.
The other two who came along, Jingxiang and Azhen, were also astonished. Ina explained the difficulty of the move, and they whispered among themselves, "No wonder you couldn't handle him alone."
The foreign teachers naturally stuck together, especially the women, who formed close bonds and shared information. They'd long known about Zhou You and Ina, and hearing Ina's descriptions, they were all envious.
Agula was thoroughly convinced. He clasped his fists to Zhou You and stepped down. The remaining contestants, though nervous seeing Zhou You's ferocity, still went up. Opportunities to face a skilled opponent were rare, especially one who held back—what was there to fear? They all took turns sparring.
The outcome was the same: almost none lasted more than a few exchanges before being kicked to the ground by Zhou You. As for why he didn't use punches—he'd gotten used to kicking, found it more effective, and damn it, cooler. "Hands are the doors, feet are the weapons"—Zhou You embodied that perfectly.
The audience was thoroughly entertained. If it had been a match between equals, they might not have fully grasped it, but Zhou You's domination of weaker opponents was crystal clear. It was like a football match: strong teams wary of each other, all defense, no excitement. But against a weaker team—like a national team getting hammered—no, that analogy didn't fit; it was too painful. Nobody wanted to be on the receiving end. A dozen goals in one game—that was the sweet spot.
Zhou You cleared the round and secured his throne as the ring's overlord.
The Library Science students were ecstatic, telling everyone around, "That's our professor." They basked in reflected glory.
The human mind is strange. When the national team wins, people say, "We won." When it loses, they say, "They lost." The line between closeness and distance is clear.
With Zhou You's match over, the entire sports meet concluded. All that remained was the awards ceremony.
The principal had stuck it out to the end, never expecting Zhou You to steal the show, turning the tide single-handedly.
Next came the awards for each event. The Library Science students came up empty—not a single prize. They looked at Zhou You awkwardly; their professor was laden with honors, while they, his students, had nothing. Shameful.
Zhou You was the biggest winner. First in the 100-meter dash—he was the first to step up for his award. Third in the standing long jump—he went up again. First in the martial arts competition—he was the last to receive his prize. So it went: Zhou You's face bookended the ceremony, giving the students plenty to talk about. The Library Science students might be mediocre, but their professor excelled, and they rode that wave of attention.
Still, it mostly stayed among the students. Aside from the younger faculty who competed, the older teachers didn't even show up, busy with their own affairs.
Zhou You looked at the young faces below and couldn't help feeling youthful himself. Especially when he caught the admiring gazes of the foreign teachers, a swell of pride rose in him—today, he had upheld national prestige. But once was enough for this experience. Any more would lose its charm.
He figured the new principal had learned his lesson and would stop stirring up trouble. No trouble was good trouble—that was the way to survive.