As Qin Fen replayed everything the Gun King had taught him, he arrived at the small path that was the only route back to the barracks.

Sitting squarely in the middle of this not-so-wide path was a figure resembling a mountain of flesh. Having trained under the various masters in the camp these past days, Qin Fen immediately gauged the approximate height and weight of the seated individual.

Height, upward of 1.8 meters, weight around 280 kilograms, harboring immense latent power within.

As a competent soldier, upon sighting a potential adversary, one must instantly ascertain all available data—these were the words Butcher had once taught him.

Qin Fen felt his current estimation was likely accurate enough, affording him some confidence in his conjecture.

"Qin Fen?"

Gang Benwu, seated on the ground, looked up at Qin Fen, his eyes narrowing to thin slits, a provocative glint flickering ceaselessly.

There was hostility, a fighting spirit—likely a challenger. Qin Fen swiftly judged the other's intent and nodded slowly, answering, "Yes."

"Good!"

Gang Benwu roared out in excitement, stamping his feet down suddenly. The placid earth groaned under the strain of his massive weight. His bulky frame charged toward Qin Fen, his fan-like palms instantly showing bulging veins and arteries, coiled like tiny green snakes wrapping around his entire hand, explosive power radiating from his grip.

Gang Benwu was already larger than an average man; his arms were usually thicker than a normal person's calf. Now, as he exerted force, his arms swelled, their girth surpassing that of an ordinary person's thigh.

It was as if the colossal deity of myth and legend had possessed him in this moment, an overwhelming sense of pressure washing over Qin Fen.

Gang Benwu’s strike was well-prepared; in one step, he annihilated the seven-meter distance between them. His massive bulk showed no slowness in speed; rather, he moved like a swift ape. Reaching Qin Fen, the powerful rush of air alone made Qin Fen’s face feel scraped raw as if by a blade.

The tyrannical giant palm—Qin Fen’s eyes flashed with light. This strike was clearly Tian Ta (Heaven Collapses) from the ancient martial art Da Shuai Bei Shou (Great Stele Slamming Palm), a technique of absolute, explosive might.

Were this in the Sky Martial Arts Combat Net usually, Qin Fen would have wanted to meet this peerlessly fierce technique head-on with the Long Xiang Banruo Gong (Dragon-Elephant Prajna Skill).

But now? Qin Fen's eyes blazed with brilliance. His foot slid, his body twisting sideways like a snake, smoothly evading Gang Benwu's certain strike.

CRASH!

Gang Benwu's palm struck empty air, merely whipping Qin Fen's clothes into a flurry but achieving no result.

This new Sumo master paused in surprise. Qin Fen’s method of evasion was clearly the Long Zhe Shen (Dragon Concealing Body) from Shaolin Arhat Fist. However, because the Long Zhe Shen implies grandeur and power in its name, Qin Fen’s application—so slippery and fluid—was antithetical to that image; it was more aptly described as serpentine.

Qin Fen was quite satisfied with the route and movement he had just executed. His daily sparring with Butcher and lessons from other master craftsmen had imparted diverse combat techniques. Phoenix’s serpentine style was her specialty...

Ancient legends stated that the Dragon evolved from the Serpent; naturally, the two shared many similarities.

Lately, Qin Fen had been diligently integrating and modifying his own Long Zhe Shen, infusing it with Phoenix’s serpentine movement. Under his hands, the Long Zhe Shen now manifested several variations.

Gang Benwu, having missed his target, stared at Qin Fen with confusion, his expression slowly curdling into anger: "Why not fight? Aren't you a martial artist? Facing an attack, where is your slightest fighting spirit?"

Without a moment's thought, Qin Fen offered his explanation: "You haven't paid."

"Paid?" Gang Benwu froze on the spot. What did money have to do with a battle between martial artists? He initially assumed Qin Fen was merely making an excuse. But seeing Qin Fen’s utterly serious expression, he became even more perplexed.

"Yes, paid," Qin Fen lightly rubbed his fingers together in a gesture of counting money, then explained, "You must be a young martial expert invited by the military district, right? Your pushing palm technique, fused with the Da Shuai Bei Shou, is indeed astonishingly powerful. A worthy opponent."

Gang Benwu was slightly shocked. In just one exchange, his Da Shuai Bei Shou had been completely seen through by the other party.

One must remember that among fist and palm techniques, several styles look remarkably similar in execution. Unless one possesses seasoned experience for careful discernment, distinguishing them is not easy.

For instance, Da Jingang Lun (Great Vajra Wheel), Hei Sha Zhang (Black Sand Palm), and Jinglun Tie Zhang (Sutra Wheel Iron Palm)—several styles bear a close visual resemblance to Da Shuai Bei Shou when employed.

Qin Fen’s combat experience was limited, but he had spent so long acting as an expert commentator, writing seemingly professional reviews after watching over a thousand matches; his observational skills were naturally sharp.

These past days, besides teaching him how to kill, Butcher had also taught him how to differentiate various combat skills. Despite Gang Benwu's fierce aura, it could not escape Qin Fen's discerning eye.

"Since I am a worthy opponent, why refuse to fight?" Gang Benwu pressed, genuinely perplexed. "Why must you be paid?"

"Because I defeated Park Zhonghwan of New Taekwondo and am now known as the top martial arts master in the recruit camp," Qin Fen said with an air of self-evidence. "You want to challenge me, to borrow my fame. If you don't pay, why should I fight you?"

Qin Fen was temperamentally quiet, but certainly not foolish. On the contrary, a life of hardship had cultivated a keen instinct for acquiring money.

Engage in combat? Pay up!

This principle was not just enforced on the Sky Martial Arts Combat Net; even in real life, Qin Fen never intended to abandon it.

Ever since he learned that the young experts brought in by the military district through special channels might become challengers, Qin Fen felt both excitement at the prospect of clashing with them and anxiety over setting the appropriate price for their challenges.

"Poor scholars, rich warriors"—this adage had remained unchanged, whether in ancient times or the modern era.

Especially with the rise of New Martial Arts, it was even harder for the poor to become masters.

Qin Fen knew that most of these young experts likely came from affluent backgrounds. Facing opponents who valued honor so highly, the price couldn't be set too low, yet it couldn't be so high as to scare them off.

Gang Benwu looked Qin Fen up and down. This recruit, who from any angle was hard to describe as shrewd, surprisingly possessed a decent business acumen.

However, applying business sense to the sacred act of martial combat made the veins in Gang Benwu’s forehead pulse faintly—this was an insult to the contest itself.

"You really charge money for duels?" Gang Benwu asked for final confirmation.

"Yes," Qin Fen nodded. "If you want to fight me, you must pay."

"How much?" Gang Benwu asked almost unconsciously, never expecting Qin Fen to actually provide an answer.

To his surprise, Qin Fen lifted his index finger: "One thousand US dollars."

One thousand dollars? The title of the New Recruit Camp's Martial Arts King was only worth a thousand dollars?

Gang Benwu felt that Qin Fen was deliberately humiliating the martial arts, lacking any honor expected of a warrior. The veins on his forehead visibly jumped, and he demanded, nearly roaring, "Do you have any warrior's honor!"

"One thousand US dollars," Qin Fen did not directly answer the question but extended his index finger again, seriously issuing his challenge price list: "If you don't fight me now, the price will increase once I defeat another young master."

Gang Benwu had been overweight since childhood; every martial art he tried to learn was met with the assessment that his physique was unsuitable for training. Instead of pursuing martial development, he was advised to turn towards clerical work.

Despite repeated setbacks, he never abandoned the Way of the Warrior. In his culture, the warrior was a class holding extremely high status and honor. He had attempted everything to become a warrior.

It was only with the emergence of New Sumo that he finally found his path as a warrior, causing him to value martial arts above nearly everything else, to the point where it was equated with life itself.

Gang Benwu looked at Qin Fen with utter incomprehension. How could such a person be qualified to study martial arts? How could someone whose every utterance revolved around money, completely infatuated with lucre, possibly be a master?

Gang Benwu found the situation absurd: "Besides money, what else do you see? Do you possess any honor befitting a warrior? How can you turn the sacred Way of the Warrior into a tool for making money?"

"Hm?" A shadow of displeasure crossed Qin Fen's brow. Sacred martial arts? How sacred? If one had experienced the worry of the next meal being uncertain, struggling daily just to avoid starvation, would the martial way still feel sacred?

"Pay up? If you won't pay, I'm going back to rest." Qin Fen sidestepped, deciding that if necessary, he would forgo the established path and simply walk around.

"You...!" Gang Benwu suddenly stepped forward, his heavy footfall shaking the ground. He had entered Qin Fen's effective striking range.

Qin Fen's eyes brightened. Alerted to being within the opponent's effective combat range, he raised his eyebrows and said, "If you plan to compete in stamina, I can oblige. At worst, if you charge, I’ll turn and run."

Regarding his principle that fighting required payment, Qin Fen had made up his mind long ago.

Gang Benwu's rising fighting spirit instantly dimmed by half. To flee when challenged, turning the fight into an endurance race—this act, devoid of warrior's honor, was almost unimaginable to him.

Qin Fen’s earlier speed had also demonstrated that catching him would not be easy.

"If I pay you enough money, would you also accept being bought to lose?" Gang Benwu looked at Qin Fen with disdain.

"No," Qin Fen shook his head.

Gang Benwu’s eyes flashed with the slightest hint of approval—at least this warrior hadn't abandoned all martial honor.

"Losing a fight only earns money once; winning means continuous income," Qin Fen explained his business philosophy quite helpfully.

Gang Benwu, who had just shown a glimmer of approval, instantly wanted to slap himself hard. How could he have expressed approval toward someone who had discarded all warrior's honor?