The supernatural is revived and ghosts are rampant.
If people in this world want to survive, there are only three ways: letting ghosts take possession of them and burning their lifespan; practicing Taoism and draining their energy; learning Western magic and burning money.
Zheng Liang didn't choose any of them.
In his previous life, he was a real martial arts master. He practiced boxing for thirty years, stood in the box for thirty years, and received beatings for thirty years. In this life, the soul travels to the parallel blue star. It has no spiritual energy, no internal strength, and only has a body that starts all over again.
He has practiced Tai Chi for ten years.
There is no qigong and no internal strength. I just get up at 4:30 every morning and perform the seventy-four postures of Chen style Tai Chi over and over again. Hit until your knees hurt, hit until calluses form on the soles of your feet, hit until every muscle remembers the trajectory of the moves.
On the day of the freshman report, Weird broke into the campus. Everyone ran out, but he rushed in against the flow of people.
Because he saw someone falling to the ground.
A D-level resentful evil spirit with infinite strength and speed so fast that it can hardly be caught by the naked eye. He received three slaps, two broken ribs, and could barely lift his left arm.
In the seventh minute of the game, he caught the moment when the opponent's center of gravity changed.
A fist that covers the hands and shoulders, right at the center of the mouth.
The resentment is gone.
He slid and sat down against the wall, his whole body shaking with pain, and the fist of his right hand was bloody.
He looked down at his hands and grinned: "It's not bad, I can fight."
