Let me ask, is there any such four words in the world that make the Chinese people more sad and angry?

According to records, the origin of the sick man of East Asia is that the 11th Olympic Games were held in Berlin in 1936. Please search (@¥) to see the most complete! The fastest updated country has applied for nearly 30 entries and sent a delegation of more than 140 people. In all the events, except for the pole vaulter who entered the semi-finals, everyone else was eliminated in the preliminary round and finally wiped out. When the Chinese delegation passed through Singapore on its way back to China, the local newspaper published a foreign cartoon satirizing the Chinese people: Under the banner of the Olympic rings, a group of Chinese people with long braids, long braids, robes, and horse coats to describe the emaciation of the Chinese people, carried a large duck egg on a stretcher, entitled "The Sick Man of East Asia." Since then, "the sick man of East Asia" has become a contemptuous term for the sons and daughters of China by foreigners, especially Japanese devils.

Whether this account is true or not, it is a national shame. However, the Japanese have gone so far as to use the title of 'sick man of East Asia' as a derogatory and insulting term for the country. Its contempt and contempt are painful. I have seen this word in many film and television dramas, and most of the people who use this word to satirize and insult Chinese people are Japanese. One of my favorite movies is the scene in Jingwumen where the Japanese scold the sick man of East Asia and Chen Zhen makes the Japanese eat paper, regardless of whether this scene has a historical basis or not, but it has inspired countless Chinese people and made us enthusiastic.

But at this time, Junichi Matsushita actually came up with such a sentence!

This was both surprising and righteous indignation. What is surprising is that to this day, there are still Japanese people who call the country the 'sick man of East Asia,' and the Japanese are short in stature, small in eyes, and thin in body, so what qualifications does he have to insult the Chinese people like this? What is righteous and indignant is that I have no good feelings for the Japanese, but in this way, I am even more determined to let Matsushita Junichi go!

Martial arts competitions generally call for friends with martial arts, friendship first, martial arts second, and the point is up. I also prefer to follow this rule. But for Japan, a nation that doesn't talk about rules and doesn't know the rules, I think this rule can be completely exceptional!

So I scolded softly: "Little Japan." Then he clenched his fists to himself.

Of course, these mannerisms and psychological struggles are only short-lived episodes, and looking at Junichi Matsushita in front of me, I think that he alludes to the common ugly face of the Japanese.

I thought to myself: I must beat up this Japanese guard!

After the lady who held the card twisted her slender figure and turned around with the sign of 'First Round', my trial with Junichiro Matsushita officially began.

What surprised me was that this Junichi Panasonic looked strong on the surface, but his actual skills were not as exquisite as he imagined.

At the beginning of the scene, I kept attacking Junichi Matsushita with a combination of punches, and in my beliefs, mixed with hatred for the Japanese people, to be exact, I didn't even think of the competition with Junichi Matsushita as a match, but as a blind vent of anger. Maybe this idea was wrong, but in this situation, I really couldn't restrain my impulse, and my combination instantly blossomed on Junichi Matsushita, who didn't even have the ability to defend before he could attack, but just held his head and endured the fight. There were violent shouts and cheers from the audience, and I heard a lot of radical words in Chinese, such as saying 'cripple little Japan' or something like that, but at this time I couldn't calm down, my blood was boiling, and I took the shouts of the audience as a kind of super power, prompting me to constantly exert punch power, and in an instant Junichi Matsushita was embarrassed, holding his head and moaning.

It wasn't until the referee called a halt that I couldn't bear to stop fighting Junichi Matsushita.

To be exact, it's enjoyable. Beating up a Japanese made me feel a thrill that I had never felt before. Regarding my barbaric behavior, I can only say that I am not an enlightened monk, nor am I a cultivator, and I also have affection, love and hatred. As a Chinese person, especially a ** person, I can't forget the crimes committed by the Japanese against the country, so this Junichi Matsushita must bear all my dissatisfaction and prejudice.

The ring is like a battlefield, the winner is the king, and the loser is the villain. This is an immutable law from the bottom down.

Unless you and I are strong, I will cut you and let you taste the taste of being bullied......

At this moment, I feel that my thoughts are so simple, just like a child who has just watched an anti-Japanese film.

Next, Junichi Matsushita learned his lesson and began to use his own quality and skills to avoid my fierce chain punches, but the gap in strength doomed him to a disadvantage, and I broke through the defense line formed by his hands and feet with a little more force, and it was a fierce attack, which made Junichi Matsushita a dozen of seven and eight elements, embarrassed.

In the second game, I didn't give Junichi Matsushita any chance to regain the disadvantage, and continued to attack him in the head with combination punches. Within a few rounds, Junichi Matsushita had already been beaten into a delirium.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that his defeat was decided, and then began to cast a chain of three kicks, snapping, and hitting his knee and chin with three strikes with my right leg.

Junichi Matsushita stumbled to the ground.

The referee ran over to give him a few seconds, three, two, and just as he was about to count 'one', Junichi Matsushita struggled to support himself with his hands, panting to his feet.

But just barely standing still, his legs suddenly sore, and he stumbled again.

He looked at me with a pitiful look, as if begging for mercy, and as if he wanted to continue to gather strength to fight me.

But where does he still have a chance?

He was now like a rooster with a plague, without any arrogance, without any contempt or arrogance.

He was like a weed of the wind, and when the wind blew, his body shook violently.

Maybe it's the spirit of bushido that is at work, but this Junichi Matsushita still hasn't given up, as if he wants to continue fighting. He raised his fist and pointed it at me weakly, to continue fighting me.

Exactly, I was touched by this spirit of his. If it weren't for his persistent spirit of not admitting defeat that touched me, I think I would have continued to launch fierce attacks on him, and I would have broken his heart.

So, I subconsciously decided that I couldn't kill him. I'm going to reserve a little dignity for this poor Japanese samurai.

However, at this moment, under the ring, a Japanese man wearing a karate uniform suddenly pulled out a white towel and threw it towards the ring. And shouted in not very fluent English: "Don't fight, don't fight, we admit defeat, we admit defeat!"

This Japanese seems to be a little older than Junichi Matsushita, and it is estimated that he should be Panasonic's coach, or a colleague, or just a temporary head of Miss Racing.

The match was stopped, but it was met with a lot of skepticism from the media and spectators.

Afterwards, a reporter from the exchange meeting interviewed the Japanese coach who threw the white towel and asked him why he threw the white towel on the way, whether this was inconsistent with the spirit of Japanese bushido. The Japanese coach said with emotion: "I can't lose one of the proud guards of His Excellency the Emperor because of a game. That national guard was so savage, he didn't look like he was in a race, but like he was fighting, asking for his life. ”

Of course, I advanced to the quarterfinals by an absolute margin.

After the match, on the way back to the apartment, Yumeng couldn't help but ask: "Zhao Long, when did you become so savage, the match between you and the Japanese guard just now was as cruel as American wrestling." ”

The so-called American wrestling is not wrestling, and the "horns" here include punches, kicks, elbows, throws, and other hand-to-hand fighting techniques, and the arena is allowed to extend into the stands and even the rest room. Therefore, wrestling is a more primitive and casual and exciting free fight. There is also a big difference between wrestling and wrestling, such as the most popular Hell Iron Cage Tournament, the Buried Alive Tournament, the hardcore tournament Royal 30 Battle, which can use murder weapons, etc., which is not possible in wrestling. The sport of wrestling is known by many as the most brutal combat competition in the world. Known for its cruelty and ferocity.

Yumeng actually compared me to wrestling, which shows that I was indeed a little cruel to Matsushita Jun's hand at that time.

To be exact, now that I'm calmer, I'm still shocked by how excited I was.

I've never attacked a person like that, let alone a fellow martial arts fellow.

Yumeng continued: "I have found a wild beauty in you. This kind of wild beauty is very admirable. ”

I quickly waved my hand and smiled: "Don't mind, don't worship brother, brother is just a legend." To paraphrase a popular fashion line, I also feel awe-inspiring and excited.

Yumeng pouted and scolded with a smile: "Small, look at what makes you stunted." ”

I changed the subject and said, "After so many games, my body is a little sore, from the dream, help me massage it when I go back, okay?"

You Meng said indignantly: "Zhao Long, you treat me as a massage lady, right?"

I said, "How can you?" It's not that your skills are good. Your little hands are very comfortable. ”

He smiled from the dream and said shyly, "Really?"

I complimented, "No. Your massage techniques are just soft, soft and rigid, and the level of those professional masseurs is much higher, a lot. ”

You Meng smiled: "If you want to say this, this girl is willing to serve." I'll help you move your muscles when you get back. I've been racing for so many games, I'm definitely going to be tired. ”

I smirked, "That's great." Hearing you say that, my physical fatigue has been reduced a lot. ”

Back at the apartment, Yumeng didn't break his promise and took the initiative to follow me into the bedroom.

I lay flat on the bed, sitting on the edge of the bed with my slender hands from head to toe, inch by inch to help me relax my muscles and bones.

I enjoyed it with my eyes half-closed, and my whole body relaxed.

Yumu helped me massage and asked, "Are you comfortable?"

I said, "Comfortable." ”

Yumu took my hand and pressed it gently in the crook of his arm.

I enjoyed her soft and delicate little hands, kneading them on my arm. Her technique is somewhat skillful, her strength is appropriate, her movements are skillful, and she has pulled her fingers a few times, and the sound is clear and crisp. Because of the close distance, the fragrance of her body pierced my nostrils, which was unusually clear and lovely. When I opened my eyes, I saw a shiny and graceful shadow in front of me. Glamorous in national red, long-sleeved stand-up collar fashion 'pseudo-cheongsam' binds the body tightly, the skin is shiny and translucent, the chest is bulging, and the plump and round stunner seems to be about to break out...... Under the red short skirt, a pair of snow-white round legs are even more reverie, with a pair of fashionable black leather shoes, which makes Yumeng's body full of hot temptation. My heart suddenly beat faster, and I was hit by the beauty of the beauty in front of me, and the so-called immunity had long been thrown out of the sky by the shocking beauty of the dream.

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