The Luckiest Dumb Doctor

Chapter 112: Please Go Die

Translator: 549690339

Greg Jensen yawned, seemingly uncaring as he lazily ascended the stairs.

Halfway up, he suddenly froze, his expression turning solemn in an instant.

The reason was the silence above, so quiet that not even the sound of breathing could be heard.

There were supposed to be two people guarding each staircase landing, but even if they were asleep, it shouldn’t have been so quiet.

Something was wrong!

Greg’s heart tightened, and he ran swiftly upstairs.

Emerging from the stairwell, indeed, he did not find the two young men who were supposed to be on guard.

Just then, a commotion came from up ahead.

Greg ran over and saw that Bobby Prince and Bryce Cooke, along with a few of their men, were all lying on the ground.

Standing beside them was a middle-aged man with a broad frame and thick bones, his square face marked by a scar.

He emanated a fierce and ruthless aura.

“Mr. Jensen, I’m glad you could make it.”

“Mr. Jensen, be careful, that’s Master Simmons, and he plays dirty.”

Bryce Cooke, lying on the ground, regained some hope in his eyes upon seeing Greg arrive.

Bobby Prince couldn’t help but speak out to warn Greg to be wary of Hugh Simmons.

Hugh Simmons looked over coldly and asked, “You’re Greg Jensen?”

“That’s me.”

“Good, that saves me the trouble of finding you. Today, 1 will send you and Norman Holmes to your ends!”

Greg, fearing Simmons would continue to harm Bobby and the others, put on an air of bravado and said, “You talk big, but let’s see if you can back it up. How dare you speak to me like that?”

Simmons’s face darkened, and leaving Bobby and the others behind, he stepped towards Greg and sneered, “Kid, it seems you’re tired of living. I’ve never seen someone so eager to die.”

“Heh, we’ll see who the deer falls to.”

Greg gave Bobby and the others a signal with his eyes, and then took a few slow steps back, getting into position and looking teasingly at Simmons.

Bobby Prince and Bryce Cooke quickly got up and quietly moved to one side.

Simmons raised an eyebrow and scoffed, “I’ve heard you’re quite the fighter, turns out you’re a martial artist.”

“Heh, care for a demonstration?” Greg said with a cold laugh.

“A demonstration? You think you’re worthy? I want your life, not a sparring session!”

Simmons let out a sneer, his feet shifting into the character-two goat-clamping stance, his hands crisscrossing in front the opening stance of Wing Chun, known as ‘Asking hands.’

Wing Chun, a southern-style close-quarter system of Chinese martial arts, was originally developed for fighting on boats, where the character-two goat-clamping stance helps maintain balance. However, this stance is less effective on land.

This is because Wing Chun techniques mostly involve close-range combat, unlike styles such as Tongbei, which are adept at long-range strikes.

In terms of footwork, Wing Chun does not have the nimble maneuvering of Eight Forms Palm.

Even so, Wing Chun’s inch power is terrifying in actual combat.

Inch power is used in various martial arts, such as the rebounding force in Tai Chi, which also belongs to inch power.

But it’s Wing Chun’s inch punch that can focus force into a single point.

Greg, who had researched various martial arts while training, was naturally familiar with Wing Chun.

This was exactly why he had intentionally retreated a couple of steps just now, creating some distance between himself and Simmons to avoid giving him the opportunity for a surprise attack.

The distance between Greg and Simmons was just right for both attack and defense, but for Simmons, it was uncomfortable.

Making an offensive move would expose too many weaknesses, while waiting for Greg’s attack would mean losing the initiative.

Simmons seemed to realize this and his expression hardened slightly as he scoffed, “Not short on tactics, I see!”

With that, he charged forward with quick, broken steps.

Although Simmons was unable to discern the style of Greg’s stance, his confidence was not shaken in the slightest.

Frankly, he just didn’t respect Greg.

What could a young man possibly be capable of?

Even if he started learning martial arts while still in his mother’s womb, he wouldn’t necessarily be a match for me.

Hugh Simmons rushed forward, aiming a punch straight at Greg Jensen’s chest.

Seeing this, Bobby Prince and Bryce Cooke, standing nearby, both broke into a sweat for Greg Jensen.

Having followed Norman Holmes for many years, they knew Hugh Simmons all too well.

But the better they understood him, the more afraid they became.

The reason was simple, against young people like themselves, Hugh Simmons could take on ten at a time!

As Hugh Simmons’s fist was about to strike Greg Jensen’s chest, their hearts jumped into their throats.

However, faced with that enormous fist, Greg Jensen wasn’t worried at all.

He calmly stepped aside, easily dodging the blow.

Immediately after, he moved in close, trapping Hugh Simmons’s side, and with a move resembling a close body check, he slammed into him.

Bang!

Hugh Simmons felt a heaviness in his chest, and then a great force hit him, sending him flying through the air.

Before hitting the ground, he adjusted his posture, rolled with the fall, and then stood up.

Bobby Prince and Bryce Cooke watched the scene, clenching their fists tight, their eyes filled with excitement. They wanted to cheer for Greg Jensen, but didn’t dare make a sound.

Hugh Simmons’s face turned ugly as he coldly said to Greg Jensen, “Kid, you’ve got a few moves!”

“Haha, 1 not only have a few moves, but also a third and fourth. Would you like to see more?”

“Yeah, let’s see what you’ve got!”

With gritted teeth, Hugh Simmons let out a grunt and charged again, this time more cautiously with a probing move.

Greg Jensen, finally facing someone he could spar with, took his time, matching Hugh Simmons move for move.

It had to be admitted, Hugh Simmons’s fundamentals were solid. Although Wing Chun couldn’t compare to the “Yin Yang Harmony Scripture”, he still managed to exchange blows with Greg Jensen evenly.

The difference, however, was that Greg Jensen became more proficient as the fight went on, while Hugh Simmons grew increasingly anxious.

In just a few dozen seconds, Greg Jensen’s understanding of hand-to-hand combat had climbed to a new level.

On the other hand, Hugh Simmons felt the pressure from Greg Jensen growing.

Compared to when they started, it was as if he was facing a completely different person.

Could it be that the kid had been holding back just now?

On second thought, Hugh Simmons deemed it impossible.

Considering they were sworn enemies, if Greg Jensen truly was that powerful, there would be no reason for him to hold back.

But aside from that explanation, Hugh Simmons could think of no other reason.

It couldn’t be that he was improving while fighting, could it?

If that were the case, the kid was terrifying!

Who improves so rapidly?

In just dozens of seconds, his combat strength had leaped to a higher level?

Hugh Simmons felt his scalp tingle, wanting to stop fighting and leave, but Greg Jensen’s attacks came like a tornado, leaving him no chance to escape.

Now, he could only struggle in desperation!

However, he soon found he couldn’t keep up.

For Greg Jensen’s attacks became even more ferocious.

“You’re still too weak, no longer capable of improving my skills. So, please do me a favor and die!”

Upon hearing the first part, Hugh Simmons inwardly muttered, “As expected,” convinced that the kid was indeed using him for practice.

But when he heard the latter half, his face turned green!

What did he mean by “please do me a favor and die”? Wasn’t this seeking his very soul?

To attempt to kill an opponent while saying they were too weak.

The thing was, this conflict was instigated by Hugh Simmons himself; to say he was courting his own demise was almost putting it mildly..

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