Lin Yifeng looked at Meng Ran, unsure of what to say.

All I could do was explain it to everyone.

There are two types of this thing.

One method is to remove the skin but not the flesh.

One method is to remove the flesh but not the skin.

Everyone looked at Lin Yifeng with suspicion.

Lin Yifeng let out a long, helpless sigh.

"This is like slapping yourself; whether it hurts your flesh or your skin, it's two different things."

"Usually, when you're hit with a stick, it hurts like a knife, a really painful pain."

"But if you use a stick as a whip, think again."

Upon hearing this, everyone felt a chill run down their spines and looked at Meng Ran in the distance with horrified eyes.

Just as Lin Yifeng said, Meng Ran played a little trick on this.

As an instructor in the military, and even more so as an instructor among instructors, Meng Ran knows a great deal.

This time, he did it differently from the others. He held the very end of the stick and used the momentum to whip the other person. You can train to feel pain in your flesh, but it's a different story when it hurts your skin.

The pain from the stick itself is only temporary, but the pain from the skin can last much longer.

No matter how resilient or pain-resistant someone is, they can't withstand continuous damage.

On the stage, the martial monk staggered into a horse stance, ready to clash with Meng Ran.

Seeing that he was still being stubborn, Meng Ran couldn't help but kindly try to persuade him.

"It doesn't hurt?"

"Maybe we should just forget about it."

“It will be different if we do it again.”

The monk's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, but his attitude remained resolute.

"Come!"

"It doesn't hurt!"

"Anything you like!"

At this point, many people in the audience started to jeer, urging Meng Ran to do a few more blows.

Meng Ran looked at everyone and frowned. He could only give the other party another blow.

All eyes were on the two of them.

The host clenched his fists, staring intently at Meng Ran, as if afraid that she might pull some tricks.

Meng Ran sighed helplessly, raised his right arm, and slashed down at the junior monk.

With that blow, the monk, who was in a horse stance, let out a scream, and then stood up straight.

The monk kept touching his back and rolling around on the ground, his face completely drained of color, and the expressions of those around him changed drastically.

However, this scene was very satisfying for the audience.

Many tourists below whistled and shouted encouragement.

"Is it going to work?"

"That's it?"

"Tch, I thought it could really hold up."

The audience could now see that Meng Ran had something special about her.

The monks that no one else could budge were stopped by this guy with just two blows. If this continued, everyone was curious how Shaolin Temple would handle the situation.

Lin Yifeng looked at Meng Ran and sighed, rubbing his forehead.

The host hurriedly helped the monk up, and his expression became even more complicated when he saw the monk's face.

The monk was slapped so hard that tears streamed down his face. He tried to be defiant, but the burning sensation on his back made it impossible for him to open his mouth.

Meng Ran, too lazy to bully these people, was just about to put down the stick and leave.

The host turned to Meng Ran and called out.

"Wait!"

"Let's switch players!"

"Go and call Wu Hong!"

The surrounding monks stammered, unsure of what to do.

Meng Ran was about to refuse them, intending to show them some leniency, when she saw several martial monks surround her.

Seeing the other party's stance, it was clear they had no intention of ending things so easily. Meng Ran, not wanting to cause trouble, simply waited quietly on the sidelines.

A moment later, a figure came running over from not far away.

When the man appeared, many people around him gasped in shock.

He was over 1.8 meters tall and weighed at least 200 kilograms. Standing there, he looked like a small mountain, with thick muscles all over his body.

As soon as the man arrived, many people around him bowed in greeting.

"Senior Brother."

"Senior Brother."

"Senior brother!"

The man nodded solemnly.

The host looked at the man in front of him and finally smiled, then quickly pointed at Meng Ran.

"Wu Hong, go and take a hit from his stick!"

Wu Hong blinked and nodded slightly.

He had been hit by sticks many times before, and among the group of martial monks, he was one of the most skilled.

"Understood, Senior Uncle."

Wu Hong took two steps to Meng Ran's side and looked down at him.

Meng Ran is only a little over 1.7 meters tall, and he is clearly a head and a half shorter than Wu Hong when standing in front of him.

Meng Ran looked at Wu Hong with an appreciative expression.

With that physique, he's definitely a good candidate for the mess hall. He can carry more loads than anyone else.

These days, food rations aren't readily available, so everyone has to cook when they go out.

Especially the cooks, who had to carry a big black pot on the march.

Wu Hong, not quite understanding the situation, stood in a horse stance and explained to Meng Ran.

"Donor, please."

Compared to his other junior brothers, his attitude was noticeably better.

Meng Ran also weighed the stick in his hand a couple of times before giving him some advice.

"You're going to suffer."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Meng Ran brought his stick down.

Wu Hong's body was tense, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

However, compared to the others, he was clearly in much better shape. After only a short while, he immediately stood up and bowed to Meng Ran.

"You are indeed remarkable, benefactor."

Meng Ran was somewhat surprised to see that Wu Hong had actually withstood it.

Seeing that Wu Hong had finally helped them regain their composure, the host happily explained to everyone.

Please excuse my poor performance.

"Today, I just didn't practice my skills enough."

“Benefactor, if you do not believe in Shaolin’s Golden Bell Cover and Iron Shirt techniques, you may try them again.”

Upon hearing this, Wu Hong's expression froze.

He looked at the host with a terrified expression, his eyes conveying a frantic hint.

Unfortunately, the host didn't notice this action and continued to stir up trouble among those around him.

"Monks do not lie."

"Our Shaolin Iron Shirt and Golden Bell Cover techniques are impervious to swords and spears."

"This is a genuine skill that has been passed down for thousands of years."

Many people around believed this story after seeing that Wu Hong could withstand Meng Ran's blow.

Seeing that the atmosphere was right, the host turned around and whispered some instructions.

"Wu Hong, why don't you let him hit you with the stick again?"

"Um?"

"Wu Hong?"

The host called out twice, but when he found that the eldest brother did not respond, he turned around and saw that Wu Hong's face was ashen and he kept swallowing his saliva, as if he was making a decision.

Seeing the guy's appearance, Meng Ran guessed that Wu Hong was putting on a brave face, so he took the initiative to back down.

"Alright."

"Shaolin Kung Fu is indeed amazing."

"Let's stop here for now, I'm a little tired."