The Way of Restraint

Chapter 119: Hard-Fought Battle That Refines the Man

In less than a second, Su Jie’s mind had already analyzed the strengths and weaknesses on both sides and formulated a strategy.

From the moment the fight began, not even ten seconds had passed.

Su Jie’s brain was like a supercomputer, feeding in every factor—movement, strength, speed, body type, even aura, terrain, and space—running precise calculations, then controlling his body based on the results. Throughout this process, he struggled to prevent stray, reckless thoughts from intruding.

Most people, even skilled fighters, may set a strategy before a fight, but once inside, subtle factors can throw them off rhythm, causing them to lose.

Even top experts sometimes suffer sudden, uncontrollable impulses—like a stray thought flashing across the mind—that derail them.

This is most often seen in professional chess: a “number one player” suddenly makes a blunder under tension, throwing away a winning game.

It’s like the Heavenly Court was peaceful, and suddenly the Monkey King leaps out, wreaking havoc in Heaven and turning the world upside down.

The human mind is the Heavenly Court, and stray impulses outside the plan are the Monkey King.

This time, Su Jie was truly under pressure, forcing himself to squeeze out more potential.

It was different from the threat of bullets and guns.

Bullets brought instantaneous oppression—a flash of life and death completely beyond his control. But Daru’s pressure was continuous.

Just ten seconds—within that brief exchange—Su Jie already grasped his advantages and disadvantages, set his plan firmly in his mind, and strictly controlled his movements, refusing to act outside the strategy.

Swish, swish, swish…

Su Jie fully unleashed his “Hoe Strike” footwork—slipping, dodging, crouching, swaying, feinting, running, leaping, dashing. At the same time, he shrank his body inward, making himself a smaller target, bouncing like a projectile.

With this movement at full force, he was like a monkey scrambling along cliffs and ravines, leaving Daru unable to land a clean hit.

Occasionally, Daru accelerated and struck him, but the blows caused little damage.

To truly “land a hit” in combat, you must concentrate all your force at one precise point, driving power deep into the opponent’s body to cause devastating damage in an instant. Only then is it an effective strike—the same principle as a KO punch in the ring.

But against a moving target, this is extremely difficult.

That’s why some people can smash bricks, split stones, and pound sandbags with great force, but in real combat they hit people with no effect—the same even for professionals.

The reason is simple: people move. Even a tiny shift of instinct throws off the focal point of force, reducing the power by ninety-nine percent.

Bricks, wood, sandbags—they don’t move.

So the fight looked like this: Daru was like a gorilla, chasing a little monkey around the ring, unable to catch him. Even when he landed blows, he failed to cause serious injury—no fatal strike.

To spectators, it was hardly exciting at all.

But Awasi and Zhang Jinchuan watched with grave expressions—they understood.

Su Jie’s strategy was flawless, executed with rigid discipline, showing no weakness at all. He could seemingly keep dodging forever.

And Daru, too, showed no emotional fluctuation, seemingly willing to hunt forever.

‘So that’s it. So that’s it…’

While dodging, Su Jie repeatedly spotted openings. His mind sprouted thoughts of risking it all in a single gamble—but each time, he crushed the impulse, sticking to his plan.

As he moved, realization struck him:

‘So this is what it means—‘The perfected man moves like a machine!’ It doesn’t mean living like a puppet, but rather never letting wild impulses be born in the heart, never letting them turn into action. Like when the Monkey King jumps out—you must suppress him with Buddha-nature, bind him, lead him up to Spirit Mountain, where even he attains the scriptures and becomes part of the Dharma.’

The stray, absurd thoughts that arise in the mind are like the Monkey King—immensely powerful. In real life, people sometimes commit sudden crimes precisely because they cannot suppress such impulses, leading to disaster.

At this moment, Su Jie truly understood the meaning of “the perfected man moves like a machine.”

It was not about living mechanically in daily life—that would kill all spirit.

“Movement” did not mean the body, but the activity of the mind.

Suddenly, he thought of his father, Su Shilin—smoking, drinking, sometimes acting roguish, but hiding unfathomable depths.

‘Before, my understanding of ‘moving like a machine’ was only skin-deep, superficial. Now I finally get it.’

With that, Su Jie let out a thunderous howl.

Like dragon’s roar, tiger’s cry.

The clear, piercing sound split stone and metal.

Everyone present felt pain in their eardrums—Gale even clutched his ears. He hadn’t thought a human voice could reach such decibels.

And in that howl, Su Jie launched his counterattack.

Bang!

Daru’s fist struck his chest at the same moment his fist smashed into Daru’s abdomen.

Normally, this was impossible—Daru’s reach was much longer. Under usual circumstances, if Daru hit Su Jie, Su Jie couldn’t even touch him.

But this time, both landed blows.

Zhang Jinchuan saw clearly—in that split second, Su Jie had accelerated just enough, rushing in before Daru’s reach fully extended, collapsing the distance so both strikes connected.

The impact exploded!

Daru staggered back, crashing against the wall. Su Jie flew backward, shattering a table.

Neither had the advantage.

“What power…” Su Jie’s chest had momentarily caved in, dispersing the penetrating force of the blow. He hadn’t broken bones, but pain flared and stars danced before his eyes.

Looking up, he saw Daru wasn’t much better off.

“That’s enough,” said Awasi, clapping his hands. “It’s a draw. There was no wager—no need to continue.” He feared Daru would be hurt further. He had faith in Daru, but hadn’t expected Su Jie to be so resilient.

Gale was equally shocked. He hadn’t thought Su Jie could take one of Daru’s punches head-on and stay standing.

Daru’s fists were like sledgehammers, each the size of a human head. His wrists were thicker than Su Jie’s arms. Even iron men would be crushed. Just how tough was Su Jie’s body?

Thump, thump!

Daru pounded his chest once with one fist, bowed to Su Jie in respect, and left.

“Daru holds you in great respect,” Awasi said. “I’ve never seen him so serious before. You’ve earned his recognition.”

“If we kept fighting, I wouldn’t be confident,” Su Jie admitted. Daru was terrifying, and he never underestimated him.

Against Daru, Su Jie never found a chance to use his signature “Hoe Strike” move. That technique was designed for seizing the upper hand and delivering a sudden, decisive strike. Against such a tall opponent, it was nearly impossible to reach the face.

He reflected—compared to Odell, his technique was still far inferior. Odell could drive it in no matter how big, tall, or strong the opponent was.

“What a pity this wasn’t in the gladiator cage,” Awasi sighed. “If it were, Daru’s state would have risen even higher.”

The gladiator cage was a brutal arena in these war-torn lands—only one left alive could exit. Such battles didn’t exist in civilized society. Inside, a man’s state could indeed be pushed further—or collapse entirely if his will was weak.

“Su Jie, you’re incredible,” Gale said. “Daru never finds a worthy opponent, but you’re so much smaller than him and still fought to a draw. Truly, the weak overcoming the strong!”

Su Jie just waved his hand, breathing hard. It took him a long time to steady his chest. If I hadn’t been training that hard qigong all winter break, toughening my body, that punch would’ve killed me outright.

“You three should stay here a while longer,” Awasi said. “When things settle, then you can leave. In the meantime, get familiar with Gale—there may be big business opportunities later. Gale, keep learning Chinese from them. Business will only grow, and you can’t afford not to know Chinese.”

“Yes, Father,” Gale replied.

All that day, Gale pestered Su Jie to teach him martial arts.

Su Jie had teaching experience, so he trained Gale using modules similar to AI learning programs, keeping it fun. He also taught him how to write Chinese characters.

For three days, life passed quietly. 

Su Jie kept reflecting, digesting lessons from the fight with Daru. He’d hoped to spar more with the iron man, but heard Daru had gone out on a mission.

On the third morning, after training outdoors, Su Jie returned to find Gale rushing toward him, face dark.

“Daru is dead.”

“What?” Su Jie was stunned. “What happened?”

“Come, I’ll show you.” Gale drove him out of the camp, far into the wilderness.

There, on a stretcher, covered by a white sheet, lay Daru’s huge corpse.

Several military doctors were examining it.

Awasi stood nearby, his face twisted with rage he could barely suppress, listening as a military doctor reported:

“General, Daru was killed in a fight. Neither side used weapons—it looks like they agreed to barehanded combat. There are footprints showing only one opponent. The wounds are from fists and feet. All the blood here is Daru’s—the enemy seems unharmed and left safely.”

The doctors were reconstructing the scene.