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Chapter 445 What is the strongest martial art in this world?

During the Qingming Festival, the drizzle is as soft as butter.

The rain curtain enveloping Dongdu City added a touch of the gentle and melancholic charm of the Jiangnan water towns to this bustling city.

Xishan Cemetery, the largest cemetery in the city, is currently bathed in a misty rain.

The bluestone steps were slippery, making the pine and cypress trees on both sides appear even more verdant and solemn.

The air was filled with the slightly earthy smell of soil, the fresh scent of grass and trees, and the aroma of burning incense and paper money.

People carrying all sorts of umbrellas walked uphill in twos and threes along the winding mountain path.

Their footsteps were light, and their conversations were kept very low, as if they were afraid of disturbing the souls that lay dormant there.

Fang Cheng held up a large black umbrella and walked between his mother, Li Biyun, and his maternal grandfather, Li Zhenhua.

At the same time, he deliberately slowed down his pace, tilting the umbrella slightly towards his mother, completely enveloping her.

With her other hand, she supported her grandfather's arm to prevent him from slipping on the wet steps.

Li Biyun wore an elegant black dress today, her hair was simply tied into a bun at the back of her head, and her expression was somewhat gloomy.

Every year on this day, it is a mental ordeal for her.

Grandpa Li Zhenhua was carrying a bamboo basket containing offerings and incense.

The old man, unlike his usual talkative self, silently followed behind with his grandson Fang Cheng.

The wrinkles on his face seemed to deepen under the gloomy sky.

The steps leading to the cemetery are long, and there is a constant stream of pedestrians, most of whom, like them, walk silently with solemn expressions, holding umbrellas.

The raindrops pattered obliquely on the umbrella, making a soft rustling sound that was particularly clear in the stillness.

Finally, after walking through rows of tombstones for a while, the three of them stopped in a relatively secluded corner.

The tombstones here are much simpler than those elsewhere; they are just ordinary blue stone tablets.

After years of wind and rain erosion, some moss has grown on the edges.

In the center of the monument is a faded black-and-white photograph.

The man in the photo is handsome, with deep-set eyes, a high nose bridge, and a faint smile on his lips.

His eyes were bright and clear, revealing a gentle firmness.

Upon closer inspection, one can see that the facial contours are about 70% similar to Fang Cheng's, but the latter has a more refined and reserved demeanor.

Several lines of characters are engraved on the stele, written in a vigorous and powerful style.

The tomb of my late father, Fang Shijie.

Respectfully presented by filial son Fang Cheng and his wife Li Biyun.

There are no birth and death dates, no biographical details, only the simplest identity and name.

The fire seventeen years ago seemed to have turned everything to ashes.

"Shijie, we've come to see you."

Li Biyun's eyes welled up with tears as she looked at the familiar name on the tombstone.

She took the basket from Li Zhenhua and carefully placed the preserved vegetables, fruits, snacks, and a small bottle of liquor inside in front of the monument.

Fang Cheng put down his umbrella, took out a clean rag from under the basket, squatted down, and carefully wiped every corner of the tombstone.

The movements were light and focused, as if she were not wiping a cold stone, but brushing away the dust from her father's body.

Li Zhenhua lit three incense sticks and handed one to his daughter and the other to his grandson.

Wisps of smoke curled upwards, drawing straight, thin lines in the damp air before slowly dissipating.

The three stood side by side, bowing deeply three times to the tombstone.

"Shijie, how are you doing over there?"

Li Biyun then squatted down, throwing paper money into the brazier while talking to her husband incessantly.

"Everything is fine at home, so you don't need to worry. Chengcheng has grown up now; he's very sensible and filial..."

"Also, Dingjian got my dad a new house in Wanghu Town, which is very close to here. I can come visit you more often so you won't be too lonely..."

She barely managed to say a few words before her voice cracked with uncontrollable sobs, and tears welled up in her eyes.

“You used to say that once the company stabilized, you would take me to a scenic place to live in seclusion, open a small restaurant, you would be in charge of cooking, I would manage the accounts, and Chengcheng would come over to help out as a waiter whenever he had time, and our family would live a peaceful and stable life.”

"But now... Chengcheng has grown up so much, but you're no longer here..."

Li Biyun sniffed, her voice suddenly trembling.

“They all say you’re a murderer, but I know you’re the kind of person who would soften up if you saw a stranger who couldn’t afford medical treatment and couldn’t help but give them money. How could you possibly commit murder?”

"Shijie, I don't believe it, I don't believe a single word of it..."

At this point, she could no longer hold back, and tears streamed down her face.

The broken beads rolled down her cheek and dripped into the flickering flame, making a soft hissing sound.

Fang Cheng was about to bend down and support his mother's arm to comfort her.

Li Zhenhua reached out to stop him, gently shook his head, and lowered his voice, saying:
"Let your mom cry for a while. It will make her feel better if she can cry it out. Over the years, your mom has kept too many grievances bottled up inside."

The firelight reflected the tear tracks on Li Biyun's face, flickering between light and shadow.

Her thin shoulders trembled slightly, and she was completely immersed in endless sorrow.

Seeing his daughter sobbing uncontrollably, the old man couldn't help but sigh.

He raised his hand to wipe the corner of his eye, looked at the photo on the tombstone, and his gaze became somewhat distant.

It's like looking through a cold stone tablet and seeing a scene from many years ago.

"I still remember what your dad looked like when I first met him."

“Back then, he and your mother had just started dating. When he came to our house for dinner, he was so nervous that he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He almost spilled water while holding a teacup.”

"But his eyes are so bright, and when he looks at your mother, he can't hide his affection for her."

“I told your grandmother back then that this young man is honest, sincere, and easy to get along with.”

Li Zhenhua paused, then sighed:

"Later, when your family moved, there was no elevator in the building. He carried the heaviest refrigerator all by himself from the first floor to the ninth floor. His face turned purple, but he didn't utter a sound."

"How could such a hardworking and responsible man be the kind of vicious criminal described in the newspapers?"

The old man said these words specifically to Fang Cheng.

He feared that the stigma of seventeen years would leave a shadow in his grandson's heart, and that the child would doubt his father.

This is not only to help his grandson resolve his inner conflict, but also to repeatedly tell himself that he absolutely did not misjudge him back then.

Fang Cheng listened quietly, holding the umbrella over his mother's head to shield her from the cold rain.

My gaze fell on the monument, looking at my father's gentle smiling face in the photo, and a hundred emotions surged in my heart.

I vaguely recall my childhood, when my father would hold me and spin me around, teaching me to write and draw, interspersed with images of my mother secretly wiping away tears over the years.

All emotions eventually settled, transforming into a steadfast strength. Facing the tombstone, Fang Cheng silently made a vow:
"Dad, rest in peace. I will take good care of Mom and make sure she doesn't suffer any more grievances."

"We will definitely find out the truth of what happened back then, find the real culprit, wash away all the filth that has been thrown at you, and restore your innocence."

A mountain breeze blew by, stirring up the ashes of the paper money, which danced in the air like black butterflies.

The rain seemed to have lessened somewhat, and the distant mountains appeared and disappeared in the rain and mist, adding to the desolate atmosphere.

Just then, Fang Cheng caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye that three figures were walking in this direction on the stone steps not far away.

The leader was an elderly man, wearing a well-fitting gray executive jacket.

Although his hair was gray, his back was straight as a pine tree, and his steps were steady, as if he were rooted to the ground with every step.

Although he was old, Fang Cheng could clearly feel that his seemingly thin body contained a vigorous energy as strong as a furnace.

Two other people were following behind the old man.

One was a middle-aged man with an ordinary appearance and a wary expression.

Fang Cheng recognized the other burly man as Wei Zheng, whom he had met at the Ma family's house a few days ago.

Upon seeing Wei Zheng appear here, Fang Cheng's eyes narrowed slightly, and he had a vague guess in his mind.

These three are probably after me.

Sure enough, Wei Zheng spotted Fang Cheng at a glance, then quickly stepped forward, his face showing just the right amount of surprise and familiarity:

"Junior Brother Fang, what a coincidence, you're here to sweep the tombs too?"

The commotion startled Li Bihua and Li Zhenhua, who stopped their worship and looked over in confusion.

Wei Zheng immediately nodded politely to the two elders:

"Hello, I am Fang Cheng's friend. Today, I came to this cemetery with my leader to visit some of my fallen comrades."

This reason is perfectly reasonable and leaves no room for criticism.

Li Zhenhua nodded and politely replied, "Hello, hello."

Wei Zheng then turned to the side and introduced the old man behind him to them:
"This is Elder Shi, the former head of the operations department of our special search team, and also my most respected teacher."

"By the way, Master Shi and Uncle Ma Jianguo have been close friends for many years."

Former head of the Special Investigations Unit!
This title caused Li Zhenhua and Li Biyun's expressions to change slightly, and their eyes became more wary.

Shi Chengyi's gaze lingered briefly on Li Biyun and Li Zhenhua before finally settling on Fang Cheng. A gentle smile appeared on his face, showing no airs of a high-ranking official.

"I apologize for disturbing you."

He first offered a polite apology, then turned his gaze to Fang Cheng, with a hint of admiration between martial artists:
"I've heard Jian Guo mention you before, saying that he took on a gifted disciple. Meeting you today, I can see that you are indeed a young hero."

"Mr. Shi, you flatter me."

Fang Cheng responded neither humbly nor arrogantly, but in his mind he was rapidly calculating the other party's intentions.

"It's not an exaggeration."

Shi Chengyi waved his hand and smiled:
"I am a few years older than him, and I have some experience in martial arts."

"I just observed that you, young friend, have a steady stance and abundant energy. You must have unique insights into the principles of boxing. Would you mind stepping aside for a moment to discuss this with this old man?"

These words were perfectly worded, both praising Fang Cheng and making a reasonable request.

Although Li Biyun and Li Zhenhua didn't understand the principles of boxing and qi and blood, they could tell that this important figure treated their son differently.

They exchanged a glance, unsure whether it was a blessing or a curse.

Shi Chengyi seemed to sense their concerns and turned to signal to the driver, Xiao Zhang, behind him.

Xiao Zhang immediately understood, took out a business card from his pocket, and handed it to Li Biyun with both hands.

"Madam, this is a small token of my appreciation."

Shi Chengyi softened his tone and explained:

"If you encounter any difficulties in life in the future, just call this number. Consider it me taking care of my nephew's family on behalf of Jianguo."

This gesture not only showed goodwill but also revealed his approachable side, which greatly reduced the wariness in Li Biyun and Li Zhenhua's hearts.

They also knew that Fang Cheng seemed to be practicing martial arts with a Tai Chi master to improve his health.

The master was none other than the father of Fang Cheng's good friend Ma Donghe, so he didn't think much of it.

Fang Cheng knew in his heart that the other party's words clearly had a hidden meaning and ulterior motives.

I was initially hesitant about the identity of the high-ranking officer in the Special Investigations Unit and didn't want to get involved.

But the other party not only claimed to be a martial artist, but also invoked the name of Master Ma Jianguo, making it difficult to refuse.

After a moment's thought, Fang Cheng nodded:

"Since Elder Shi is interested, this junior will gladly oblige."

After saying this, he comforted his mother and grandfather:
"Mom, Grandpa, please wait here for me for a while. I'll talk to Old Shi for a bit and then come back."

Wei Zheng and his driver Xiao Zhang immediately stepped forward and chatted warmly with Fang Cheng's family, talking about everything from the weather to their health, showing exceptional attentiveness.

Considering Fang Cheng's future, Li Zhenhua and Li Biyun, despite still feeling somewhat reserved, did not slack off in their enthusiasm and responded in a conversation with the two.

After a while, the atmosphere became quite harmonious.

Fang Cheng and Shi Chengyi walked one after the other along a secluded path to a slightly higher hillside.

There is a stone pavilion here for people to rest. Outside the pavilion, a light rain is falling, while inside the pavilion, all is quiet.

Standing here, you can overlook most of the cemetery below, with rows of gray and white tombstones standing silently in the rain.

The smoke from incense in the distance mingled with the mountain mist, creating a desolate and poignant atmosphere where life and death intertwined.

Shi Chengyi stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the scenery below the mountain. He spoke first, his voice steady and resonant.

"Junior Nephew Fang, what do you think is the strongest martial art in the world?"

Fang Cheng was surprised that he would ask such a question, and various fighting styles and traditional martial arts flashed through his mind.

After a moment's thought, he gave a straightforward answer:

"The strongest martial art is the one that can defeat the enemy."

"wrong."

Shi Chengyi shook his head, turned around, and his gaze was as deep as the sea:
"There is a common but dangerous misconception among people: they tend to judge the quality of a skill by its lethality."

"If we only consider winning and losing, martial arts is definitely not the first choice in this world."

He paused, his voice becoming deep and forceful:
"For ordinary people, the most efficient way to kill is with a gun. For those with special abilities, the fists and feet they have practiced for ten years may not be as deadly as a single thought from them."

"If it's only about fighting and being fierce, then martial arts are the lowest of the low."

"Then, if it's not for the most efficient killing, what is the purpose of martial arts?"

Shi Chengyi stared at Fang Cheng, seemingly answering his own question, but his voice revealed a powerful conviction:

The answer is 'cultivation level'.

(End of this chapter)