Bruce Lee and the Art of Hitting Vital Points Hard
Bruce Lee, the God of Martial Arts, once said: “Jeet Kune Do uses no way as way, and uses the limitless as the limit.”
And I say: “If you’re gonna hit, aim for the vitals. And if you’re aiming for the vitals, fucking hammer them.”
Crack! The edge of my hand smashed into the philtrum of the servant who had been aiming for my life.
“Whoa, shit. You actually took that? I’m pretty sure I knocked out a few front teeth. You might have to live on porridge from now on. You okay with that?”
“I… hweiga… hngh… eorao…”
Hwei? Like Ran Hwei-hong? That Chinese chef? Was this bastard seriously calling me Chinese right now?
One of the most common forms of racism Asians face overseas is being hit with “Are you Chinese?” I thought this guy was just a communist, but apparently he was a racist too. This was an evil that went against democracy and even encompassed white supremacy. As a guardian of justice, I had to execute this man.
Jean-Jacques Rousseau, please watch over me!!! The moment I punish this communist and establish democracy!
My fist shattered the servant’s ribs. The bastard was now shedding tears from the pain.
Does it hurt? I feel like crying too. At the tragic reality of communism that brainwashed someone like you.
“Does it hurt? It hurts me too.”
As Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s successor, my heart aches at the fact that I couldn’t spread democracy further and ended up creating victims like you.
“This hweiya… inga…”
There it was with the “hwei” again. I told you I’m not a Chinese chef. Martin Luther King, please watch over me!!! The moment I punish this racist and achieve racial harmony!
I raised both fists. Then I slightly lifted my middle knuckle and slammed it into the bastard’s temple before twisting it hard. You could call it the secret technique of the “fist drill” used to punish bad children. It was a skill I had learned from a woman who had an uncontrollable five-year-old son. Blood gushed out like a fountain, and the bastard died screaming on the spot.
“In your next life, I hope you are born into a world without discrimination based on democracy or race.”
I pressed my palms together and prayed for his righteous reincarnation.
Yes, even though you were a shitty communist and a racist, it wasn’t entirely your fault. It must have all been the environment that made you this way.
But wait… if bastards like this came after me, doesn’t that mean these communist fucks might have gone after the others too?
I grabbed the dinner knife that had been lying on the table. Even though it was a dining knife, it wasn’t as dull as a patty knife. Handling this type of blade wasn’t exactly my specialty, but now wasn’t the time to be picky.
First, I needed to check on Airi’s condition.
The moment I stepped out of the room, another dagger flew in from the side.
But these guys really suck at throwing knives. When I was a kid, if I had thrown a knife like that, I wouldn’t have gotten dinner that night.
Thanks to that, I easily caught the blade, spun it once, and grabbed the handle.
Fuck, a dagger really is a dual-wield weapon.
“Aw~ Were you giving me a weapon because I was short one? How thoughtful.”
As expected of communists, they have a strong sense of wanting to share everything equally.
It’s a shame to exploit that weakness of yours, but since this is a fight where I have to risk my life too…
“…Aren’t you going to use magic?”
“Is it even worth using against you lot?”
My body had gotten too stiff lately anyway. I needed to go all out and get some proper exercise. No matter how strong someone is, without constant training they grow weak. Even the finest blade will rust if left unmanaged.
These bastards were just the right kind of opponents to scrape the rust off me.
“I’ll make you regret this.”
The guy said he’d make me regret it and then charged at me. Was he obsessed with me or something?
“Sorry, but I don’t like regret-obsession novels. I prefer harem, pure love, yuri, wuxia, sci-fi, and also…”
“What the hell is this bastard muttering about!”
This fucking guy was ignoring my novel preferences. I thought he was going to show me the merits of communism, but he’s showing its flaws without any filter. Bastards who disregard personal tastes and preferences. Aren’t these the same types who, like the Red Guards, dig up Confucius’s grave and destroy cultural heritage?
In the name of UNESCO’s first Director-General, Julian Huxley… I stabbed the knife into the bastard’s gut.
“Kuhk!”
“See? Doesn’t hurt, right?”
But the attack carrying on UNESCO’s will didn’t end there.
Galileo Galilei once said: “And yet it moves.”
And I, Werner, say: “My blade spins round and round too.”
Just stabbing the gut isn’t the end. A proper “knife fuck” is only complete once you twist it round and round. That’s why it’s called knife-fucking—because it requires hand movements like kneading dough.
But since he was a worshiper of communism, it seemed he had gone into a frenzy. Even then, he pushed me away and created distance. I had already scrambled his insides like sundae sausage, so he was either going to die or end up as a paraplegic anyway.
“This son of a bitch is treating the fight like a joke…”
“Then should I stop joking? That would make it really boring though.”
“…What?”
“Then I won’t joke around. So you were the type of friend who hates jokes.”
I closed the distance and uppercut him straight in the jaw.
“Kuhuuuugh!”
His mouth flew open. I grabbed his lower and upper teeth at the same time. Then, as if opening a sliding door, I ripped his mouth apart and turned him into a red mask.
Wait, the original Red Mask only has the corners of the mouth torn. Since this guy got ripped all the way down to his neck, maybe he’s Super Red Mask?
The original Red Mask is closer to a vengeful spirit. To exorcise him, I overlapped my hands and made a cross. The symbol of God that repels evil spirits. Upon seeing the cross, Super Red Mask collapsed to the floor, bleeding out.
“See? Boring, right?”
This is why I wish they’d at least let me enjoy the fight a little. If they all die so pathetically, there’s no point in training or anything.
Maybe this is some scheme to let my skills rust away?
These Black Round Table bastards were truly evil. Not only did they take away my ability to use Grand Magic freely, now they were even trying to rob me of my hand-to-hand combat and weapon skills. I swear I will bring divine punishment upon them for this.
At that moment, a scream came from a room at the end of the corridor.
“Kyaaaaaaaaaah!”
That voice didn’t belong to Airi, Glacia, or Camellia. It was the voice of Flora, Ricardo’s wife.
Of course. The other women wouldn’t be taken down by pathetic communist bastards like these. That’s why it was the duty of an English gentleman to rescue a woman sending out a distress signal like this.
I ran straight toward it.
I kicked open the door of the room where the scream had come from.
What I saw was a communist bastard holding a long blade without a crossguard, and Flora, who was bleeding while holding a baby.
“We-Werner… sir? Please help us! Assassins are after us…! At least save the baby…!”
“What do you mean, ‘at least the baby’…?”
“Huh?”
“If I kill that bastard right now, I can save everyone.”
The communist bastard must have prioritized me, because the direction of his blade shifted.
“Hey, put that thing away.”
The bastard still didn’t say a word and simply took a stance.
“No, I’m saying this for your sake.”
I was holding a pathetic dinner knife, but if he kept holding a proper sword like that, I wouldn’t even be able to play around. Besides, if I used magic, I wasn’t confident I could control it well enough to avoid involving Flora and the baby nearby.
The bastard ignored my warning and charged.
I lightly twisted my body to dodge, and his sword embedded itself into the wooden door.
Using such a long weapon indoors—what a fucking idiot.
I smashed him in the jaw.
Even after taking the hit, he only staggered for a moment before immediately resetting his stance.
I thought about throwing the knife, but if he dodged it might hit Flora or the baby, so I held back.
I hated creating distance and probing like this… but fortunately, the bastard seemed eager to ease my worries and charged right in.
From his posture, it looked like he was aiming for my eyeballs. I’m not part of the Uchiha clan, so why the hell is he going for the eyes first? And when an attack is so obvious about where it’s going, isn’t it easy to see how to counter it?
I grabbed the bastard’s right arm.
“You really need to go back and learn the basics from scratch.”
I twisted his arm and smashed it upward with my knee, breaking it.
“Kwaaaaaaaaagh!”
“Why are you making so much noise when even the baby is staying quiet?”
Just like how there are no-kids zones because of noisy children, I thought we should create no-assassin zones to ban entry for loud assassin bastards like this.
To think he would try to kill a powerless woman and child. The blood of an English gentleman flowing within me could not stop my right hand.
“Krrrrgh…”
And just like that, I turned the bastard into a Super Red Mask as well.