Bang!" A heavy punch landed on Huang Wen's head, immediately knocking him unconscious.
After an unknown amount of time, Huang Wen slowly woke up, groggily opening his eyes. He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his head, followed by two streams of memories merging into his mind.
One was Huang Wen's original memory: after being knocked out by the punch, he watched his body fall to the ground from another perspective and be carried away on a stretcher.
But no matter how much Huang Wen struggled, he couldn't return to his body. He could only watch helplessly as he was declared dead, and then a suction force made him lose consciousness again.
The other was a memory that didn't belong to Huang Wen. Although he was also named Huang Wen, he lived in Chinatown, USA. His father, Huang Hong, ran a martial arts school, and his mother had passed away years ago.
Ten days prior, for some unknown reason, Huang Wen's father, Huang Hong, signed a death match agreement to compete against a foreigner.
In the ring, Huang Hong won, but he didn't deliver the killing blow. His final, decisive move, a finger strike, stopped just short.
Below the ring, Huang Hong was overjoyed and prepared to return to his martial arts school, hoping to use this victory against a fourth-dan karate black belt to promote his school and attract new students to what had become a somewhat deserted establishment.
However, before Huang Hong could even return to his school, a sudden bullet took his life.
Huang Wen muddled through the funeral, inheriting Huang Hong's legacy—the martial arts school and some money. But consumed by thoughts of revenge, he stopped eating and drinking for days. Finally, that inner string snapped, his consciousness dissipated, leading to brain death…
"So, I transmigrated?" Huang Wen, having sorted through his memories, stared blankly at his hands. "I'm still called Huang Wen? And I've become a Chinese American?"
"Sigh, truly a free America, with gunfights every day. Before my consciousness dissipated, I even left behind a dying wish: revenge and to make the martial arts school flourish…"
"But I don't even know who your enemy is. You didn't eat or drink for days, and you didn't find any clues. You only suspected it was that foreigner from the ring, and there's no evidence…"
"Also, I don't know the martial arts taught at this school! By the way, this body, didn't it die from not eating or drinking? Why don't I feel weak?"
Huang Wen slowly stood up, frowning as he assessed his body, familiarizing himself with his strength, trying out punches and kicks. After a long while, he stopped.
The physical qualities of this body were excellent. As expected of the son of a martial arts master who ran a school, it was much stronger than Huang Wen's body before his transmigration. Most importantly, his height and appearance were identical to his own.
In his previous life, Huang Wen was a fitness enthusiast. He was twenty-five years old and had seven years of fitness experience, the kind of person who felt uncomfortable if he didn't train for a day.
One day, by chance, Huang Wen was led by his gym's Sanda coach into an underground world. There, to his surprise, was the legendary place for underground bare-knuckle boxing!
When he first witnessed bare-knuckle boxing, the thrill made Huang Wen's blood boil, and he couldn't resist joining in, signing up for a match.
Initially, Huang Wen, relying on his years of fitness and excellent physical conditioning, achieved a small winning streak.
However, whether he offended the organizers or simply had bad luck, Huang Wen encountered a true master—a traditional martial arts expert, said to have practiced Xingyi Quan for a full fifteen years!
Although Huang Wen had some Sanda techniques and had also studied some traditional martial arts boxing methods from online tutorials, even dabbling a bit in Xingyi Quan.
But how could such limited skill compare to someone who had truly practiced deadly moves?
As the saying goes, "Tai Chi for ten years without leaving the house, Xingyi for one year can kill a man!"
Huang Wen witnessed how terrifying fifteen years of practicing Xingyi Quan's killing moves could be.
In just two moves, Huang Wen's arm became completely useless, and then he was hit hard in the head with a punch, leading to this transmigration.
"Wing Chun!" Huang Wen came back to his senses, sighing with emotion. Indeed, the martial arts taught at Huang Wen's family school was Wing Chun, the Wing Chun of Ip Man.
"Is this also a kind of fate?" Huang Wen couldn't help but murmur. He and Ip Man both belonged to the 'Wen' generation. If it were in a spoof video on a certain platform, he could be ranked alongside Ip Man, Hong Wen, Luo Wen, and others.
Huang Wen walked downstairs. Their martial arts school had two floors. The second floor had four bedrooms, plus a kitchen, living room, dining room, and a bathroom in each bedroom.
Downstairs was a 200-square-meter training room with many wooden dummies and various fitness equipment and machines.
For a Chinese American in Chinatown, this was already considered doing quite well. The main reason was the "kung fu craze" a few years ago, which allowed Huang Hong to earn a lot of money. However, as the craze faded, the martial arts school became increasingly deserted.
As for the fitness equipment in the training room, Huang Hong had, of course, added it himself to attract more students. Even if they didn't practice boxing, they could use it as a gym. This was a case of adapting to change when in poverty; people always need to eat, after all.
But unfortunately, this change had not yet brought Huang Hong any profit before he met his untimely end.
Huang Wen looked at the familiar fitness equipment around him and quickly started training. As Huang Wen had just felt, in his previous life, he usually lifted 50 kg dumbbells, but now, he didn't feel any strain using 65 kg dumbbells.
Even more exaggerated was his bench press. This body's bench press strength astonishingly reached 300 kg! One should know that Huang Wen's world record in his previous life was only around 455 kg!
"Holy crap, how was this even trained? Is Wing Chun really that powerful?!" Huang Wen was completely shocked after finishing his circuit and testing his strength. In Huang Wen's impression, Wing Chun was not a strength-based boxing style!
"I searched my entire fitness circle in my previous life, and there weren't any masters this powerful, right? Even those fitness fanatics in their Superman and Captain America spandex couldn't do this, could they? Perhaps only that coach who pulled up the weeping willow had this kind of strength!"
The "coach head" Huang Wen referred to was the head coach of his gym in his previous life. His arms were thicker than a normal person's thighs. Huang Wen once saw him lift a 60-kilogram barbell with one hand—yes, a barbell, not a dumbbell.
From then on, in Huang Wen's mind, that head coach was Lin Daiyu who pulled up the weeping willow… Ahem, no, he was Lu Zhishen!
"Bang!" Just as Huang Wen finished testing his powerful physique, a loud noise erupted as the martial arts school's door was kicked open.
A burly, towering foreigner, over 1.9 meters tall, walked in, half a head taller than Huang Wen's 1.81-meter height. The moment the foreigner entered, Huang Wen recognized him: he was Benson, the foreigner who had lost to Huang Hong in the ring.