After speaking, he snatched the portrait of Li Xiaolong from Mei Hizuko's hands, tore it to pieces, and then stomped on it with his feet, laughing wildly at the sky: "Li Xiaolong! Li Xiaolong! They've all gone! China has no second Li Xiaolong—just weaklings! Weaklings!" Lin Tianhao's national pride was severely challenged. To look down on Li Xiaolong was to look down on China itself; to look down on China itself was to look down on my own Shaolin martial arts. "Ah!" Lin Tianhao unleashed his southern fist and northern leg techniques, vividly showcasing the essence of both southern and northern Shaolin martial arts, with unmatched power. "Oh!" Mountain's chest was struck by Lin Tianhao's powerful leg. "Oh!" His head was hit hard by Lin Tianhao's iron fist. Mountain was completely astonished—how could this seemingly unimpressive young master possess such remarkable skill? Indeed, it was as Mei Hizuko had said: Chinese martial arts were no simple matter. It seems that previously, he had never encountered truly formidable Chinese masters. This visit to the Shaolin Temple has finally given him a proper lesson. Yamada is a determined adversary—having the courage to challenge him shows he has come well prepared. Indeed, hailing from a distinguished Japanese martial arts family, he has inherited the spirit of the samurai across generations and developed a formidable martial skill. This defeat, however, stems entirely from his own arrogance and overconfidence. Now, it's time for a counteroffensive. Yamada roared, unleashing Japan's national treasure—judo. His body became exceptionally supple and agile, deftly evading Lin Tianhao's southern-style punches and northern-style kicks. Lin Tianhao was genuinely astonished—never having imagined that Yamada's martial arts were so versatile, combining both offense and defense in a seamless, unified manner. The match between Lin Tianhao and Yamada immediately drew a large crowd. Many spectators shouted enthusiastically, "Shaolin martial arts are unmatched! Chinese martial arts are truly the best!" Yamada knew that Lin Tianhao's southern-style fist and northern-style leg techniques were exceptional; after fighting him for nearly twenty rounds, he still remained evenly matched. Seeing many Chinese spectators cheering for Lin Tianhao, while he himself was fighting alone, with no one to cheer for him, even his cousin, Mihiko, was wide-eyed, tilting her chin in admiration of Lin Tianhao's skill. How has Mihiko grown increasingly enchanted by China, showing such deep interest in Chinese culture—especially in martial arts! Yamada's eyes sparkled; clearly, he needed to use a bit of strategy. He subtly pressed his sharp iron finger rings onto his hands. When Lin Tianhao launched an attack, Yamada deliberately waved his finger at him. Unaware of the trap, Lin Tianhao stepped forward with a northern leg sweep. Yamada had anticipated this move, slightly tilting his head to evade it, and at the same time, he countered with both hands closing in on the sweeping leg. "Ah!" Lin Tianhao screamed in pain as his leg was sharply hooked by Mountada's spiked iron ring, and then cut forcefully—two distinct gashes of blood appeared instantly to everyone's eyes, tearing his pants into fragments. This wasn't the end yet. Mountada was a ruthless fighter. With a strong push, he lifted Lin Tianhao and threw him far away. "Crash!" Lin Tianhao landed heavily on a sand pile twenty meters away, struggling desperately but unable to rise. Fortunately, a Shaolin disciple arrived and supported him with great effort. "You've cheated!" Lin Tianhao lost the match with great reluctance. Yet Mountada puffed out his chest and laughed heartily, saying, "In warfare, deception is not uncommon—this is exactly what the Chinese say! Hmph! What's so great about Shaolin martial arts? Our Japanese martial arts are truly the best! Hahaha!" "Yamada was arrogant and looked down on Chinese martial arts. He immediately summoned several people around him, who now stared at Yamada with hostility. Yet Yamada raised his hands and said, "What are you all looking at? Who is going to fight me to the death?" Mihiko didn't like Yamada's arrogant demeanor and said to him, "This only makes more people look down on you!" Yamada replied with indifference, "I don't care. I just want to beat the Chinese! I want to prove to the Chinese that the Japanese are the best!" "Unrecoverable!" Mihiko said, then prepared to walk away on her own. But Yamada truly grew anxious and said to Mihiko, "Mihiko, you promised we would spend a week together exploring the Shaolin Temple. Why are you leaving so soon?" "I'm deeply dissatisfied with your behavior! Indeed, your actions only make me more and more... Ah well! Then I'll just go!" "Mitsuhiko insisted on leaving, but Yamada firmly held her back, smiling coldly at her: 'Mitsuhiko, you know well that we are bound by a marriage promise. You are my fiancée, and it is my duty to protect you!' 'I don't need you to protect me!' As soon as she said this, Yamada grasped her hand tightly, making it painful. 'Let go of me! Let go of me right now!' Mitsuhiko struggled desperately, drawing laughter from many onlookers. Yamada was very assertive: 'You're mine!' Yet, Mitsuhiko swiftly stomped on Yamada's foot with her high heels, and the unprepared Yamada promptly released her hand in pain. Enraged, Yamada began to physically push at Mitsuhiko. A Japanese man, behaving so rudely and out of control, erupted in front of a Japanese woman—his own fiancée—demonstrating clearly that Japanese men simply didn't know how to treat their beloved with grace and care. Mei-ko was certainly a girl with her own personality—how could such a spirited woman be controlled by this rough man? Naturally, she dashed swiftly toward the entrance of the Shaolin Temple. Many of the Shaolin disciples stared in admiration at the beautiful Japanese woman, while Mountoka followed closely behind. At that moment, Gao Liang was practicing his Qi-Refining Technique. Mei-ko ran hurriedly, pressed by Mountoka’s close pursuit, and, disoriented by the sudden turn, failed to see who stood ahead. Gao Liang, bare-chested, was drenched in sweat under the scorching summer sun, his muscular frame strong and masculine. By chance, as she turned, Mei-ko stumbled and landed squarely into Gao Liang’s arms. "Ah! Mmm!" she gasped—her lips trembling, having just made a close, intimate contact with Gao Liang’s thick lips. Not only did she embrace him, her soft body and delicate form radiating warmth and grace, but they also shared a kiss. Mei-ko blushed deeply, her cheeks turning rosy like peach blossoms, her neck lowered in modesty. Meanwhile, Gao Liang felt a refreshing sense of well-being throughout his body. The unique fragrance emanating from Mei-ko was truly special—this foreign-born beauty surpassed even his several wives, standing out in every way. She was a Japanese woman, a top-tier university student, exuding an innate aristocratic grace. Gao Liang had seen many Japanese women online, especially those in formal uniforms, whose elegance had stirred the hearts of numerous Chinese men.