Chinese martial arts: From human punching bags to martial arts mastery

戌时 (7-9 PM)

In Zhabei District of Shanghai, the Fangualong shantytown is shrouded in a damp, cold, and despairing wind.

Chen Feng hunched over and barely squeezed into his own "rolling dragon"—a hut made of northern Jiangsu reeds bent into a bow shape, with both ends stuck in the mud, covered with a layer of tattered tarpaulin. It was two meters deep, one and a half meters wide, and less than one and a half meters high, making it impossible to even straighten his back.

He placed the two silver dollars, still warm from his body, on the broken-cornered bluestone table, his voice hoarse: "Big Gold Tooth wants five silver dollars. If he doesn't have the money by sunset tomorrow, then collect his corpse!"

Aunt Lin swayed in fright, barely managing to stay upright by gripping the edge of the table with her withered hands.

She saw the resolute killing intent in her son's eyes; he was ready to fight to the death.

The reed hut was deathly silent, so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

a long time.

Lin Sao wiped her eyes with the back of her rough hand, and tremblingly pulled out the only decent piece of clothing from under the bed.

"Go find your uncle!"

"I'm not going!" Chen Feng's throat tightened. "Last time he wouldn't even open the door. Going there would only be humiliating me!"

"That's better than sending someone to their death!"

Lin's voice trembled with tears, yet held a desperate stubbornness: "My old face is worthless. As long as it can save you, I'd kneel to death at his doorstep! He's my own uncle; I refuse to believe his heart is made of stone!"

As Chen Feng watched his mother hunch over, combing her disheveled hair with her withered, wooden fingers, he secretly vowed to give her a better life.

"good!"

He took a deep breath, steadied his mother's swaying body, and said with a dark look in his eyes, "I'll go with you!"

......

A low iron fence, however, is like a chasm, separating hell from heaven.

On this side of the fence are rows of dilapidated "coffin rooms," a place of overflowing sewage, slippery mud roads, and a stench that permeates the Zhabei district.

Beyond the fence lay the concession, a place of neon lights, rows of Western-style houses, and the clanging of trams.

Chen Feng helped Lin Sao stand at the entrance of the concession. The cold wind carried the fragrance of the concession and made the mother and son look even more embarrassed.

Lin's wife, wearing a blue cloth shirt covered in patches, reached out her hand tremblingly, coughing as she tried to smooth out the wrinkles on her son's tattered coat.

"Xiao Feng...cough cough...pull on your collar!"

"Your uncle is a big businessman; he lives in a villa, drinks coffee, and has a very respectable life!"

"If we just beg him properly, five silver dollars... it's just a pittance to him, he won't stand by and watch someone die!"

Chen Feng let his mother fiddle with his collar, but his fingertips were clenched so tightly they turned white.

How could he not know what kind of person that so-called uncle was?

Zhang Defa!

A comprador for a foreign firm, who made his fortune by being a lackey for foreigners, constantly spouts the rhetoric of survival of the fittest and has long looked down on his poor relatives.

But Chen Feng didn't stop his mother.

This is Lin Sao's last straw. If she doesn't hit a wall and completely give up, she will always feel that there is still some kind of family affection to rely on in this world.

More importantly, Chen Feng also wanted to see with his own eyes how much a trace of blood ties was worth in this cannibalistic world!

Zhang Mansion!

A beautiful little villa stands beside the sycamore-lined avenue, with creamy white high walls, shiny brass handles, and rows of gleaming black Ford cars parked in front.

Warm yellow light streamed through the huge French windows, and jazz music from a gramophone swirled around the villa.

"What are you doing? Beg for food through the back door!"

Indian police officers at the entrance waved their batons and chased the mother and son away with expressions of disgust.

"Sir, I am Mr. Zhang's relative... his older sister..."

With a forced smile, Aunt Lin shrank back humbly, her withered hands gripping Chen Feng's arm.

"Don't be afraid!"

Chen Feng took a sudden step forward, standing in front of his mother and standing firm against the Indian police officers' shoving.

After a lot of trouble.

"stop!"

The mansion's butler strolled out leisurely, glanced at the mother and son, his brows furrowing into knots, and waved his hand dismissively: "The main entrance is for respectable people. The master is having a banquet. You two go through the back door and wait in the kitchen!"

The kitchen was steaming hot, and the aroma of charred steak and sweet cream, mixed with the steam, wafted over, making Chen Feng's throat tighten.

The past two weeks since I traveled through time.

He and his mother depended on each other for survival. Every day, they could only make a little bit of thin porridge with moldy rice. Only before going to the underground boxing ring would Chen Feng eat a sour cottonseed pancake.

The mother and son were already feeling empty, and the aroma was nothing short of torture for them.

Through the delivery person's call button.

Chen Feng saw the scene in the living room—men and women dressed in suits and evening gowns, chatting and laughing while holding wine glasses, the light from the crystal chandelier shining on their faces, making them all look radiant.

And in the center of the crowd.

A tall, slicked-back young man dressed in a snow-white fencing uniform was wielding a slender sword, making elegant thrusting motions.

That's his cousin, Zhang Junjie!

I heard he just returned from studying at a military academy in Germany, where he learned the Western system.

"Everyone!"

Zhang Junjie sheathed his sword, removed his mask, revealing a handsome yet arrogant face. He then spoke in a mix of broken English and Mandarin, boasting loudly.

"That's what science is! Western martial arts emphasize anatomy, lever principles, and explosive power training—that's the real deal!"

"Unlike those so-called martial arts masters in our country, who all they know how to do is spout nonsense about qigong and internal strength—it's all just a bunch of uncivilized barbarians, a bunch of fraudulent monkey shows!"

Upon hearing this, the surrounding guests applauded and cheered.

"That's your cousin, Junjie... He's grown so tall, what a promising young man!" Aunt Lin clung to the call gate, her eyes swirling with envy, yet also concealing a deep sense of inferiority and guilt.

Just then.

A middle-aged man with a large belly, wearing a silk mandarin jacket, walked over carrying a glass of red wine. It was Uncle Zhang Defa.

He clearly knew his sister had arrived, but he left them waiting for half an hour.

"Big sister, why did you come looking like this?"

Zhang Defa stood at the kitchen doorway, unwilling to even step inside, his tone condescendingly disdainful: "I have a distinguished guest tonight. If you're here to freeload, you'll only get a dollar from the butler. Get out of here!"

"Defa... I'm not begging for money, I need help!"

Lin Sao knelt down with a thud, tears and snot streaming down her face, clutching the hem of Zhang Defa's jacket: "The Axe Gang wants to collect a tax of five silver dollars, and if it's not paid by sunset tomorrow, they'll kill me! For the sake of my deceased parents, lend me five dollars... just five dollars! I'll do anything to pay you back!"

Zhang Defa frowned deeply, took a sip of red wine, clicked his tongue twice, lifted his foot to break free from her hand, and spoke in a tone as cold as ice.

"Sister, it's not that I don't want to help, but these days, you can help in an emergency, not to support someone who's always been poor!"

He pointed to the bright lights and bustling activity outside and began his lecture in a slow and deliberate manner: "Look, this is what they call survival of the fittest! I worked for the foreigners in the concession based on my abilities! You're poor in Zhabei, that's your own fault! Why did the Axe Gang want your life? Because your life was worthless—a worthless piece of trash!"

"I have five silver dollars, but lending it to you is like throwing good money after bad! Can you even pay me back?"

Lin Sao stood frozen in place, her face as pale as paper, her lips trembling, but she couldn't utter a single word.

Witnessing this scene.

Chen Feng's fingernails dug deep into his palms, and his heart felt as if it were being ripped apart by a red-hot knife, the pain numbing him!

He transmigrated here, inheriting the original owner's memories. He knew that his mother came from a middle-class family, but because she was a girl, she was scolded by her parents as a "money-losing burden!"

Not only did he not take his father's surname, but the family business also fell entirely into the hands of his maternal uncle.

Just then.

After finishing his fencing performance, Zhang Junjie walked over, carrying a plate of leftover bone-in steak.

"Yo!"

He looked down at Chen Feng with a sneer: "You're that cousin who fights in underground boxing matches in Zhabei? I heard he's just a human punching bag, someone who takes all the beatings?"

Chen Feng raised his eyes, his gaze frighteningly calm, and uttered only one word: "Yes!"

"Great, making the best use of resources!"

With a flick of his wrist, Zhang Junjie slammed the plate of steak down at Chen Feng's feet, splashing the broth onto his worn-out cloth shoes with a loud crack.

"Cousin, don't say I don't care about my relatives! I have two German Shepherds, and I'm in need of a training partner lately. Let them bite each other a couple of times, practice their biting skills!"

"As long as you don't scream, this plate of meat is yours, and I'll even pay you five silver dollars. How about that? That's more than you'd earn getting...beaten...in...the underground boxing ring!"

The servants in the kitchen chuckled softly, and the guests in the living room cast mocking glances at them.

"Giggle giggle—!"

Looking at the meat on the ground, Aunt Lin trembled like a leaf in the autumn wind.

She tried to pick it up because it was her son's life-saving money, but her hand was held tightly.

"What a wonderful cousin! What a wonderful uncle!"

Chen Feng stared at the father and son in front of him. His bones emitted a series of fine popping sounds. It was the sound of the skin and tendons grinding together after entering the first stage of [Hard Qigong]. It was the power hidden under the skin and flesh.

"Is this what blood ties are?" Chen Feng's voice wasn't loud, but it sounded particularly jarring amidst the loud music. "Is this your upper-class decency?"

"you--"

Zhang Junjie's face was grim, the veins on his hand gripping the fencing sword bulging: "You're asking for it, aren't you? If you don't want it, get out now! Don't dirty my floor!"

Chen Feng didn't look at him again, nor did he glance at Zhang Defa, who was standing next to him, his face turning ashen with anger.

He turned around and helped his mother, who was still in a daze, to her feet.

"Mom, stand up straight!"

Chen Feng brushed the dust off his mother's knees: "We'll earn this money ourselves! This relative... is dead!"

As he helped his mother through the living room, the well-dressed guests instinctively stepped aside to make way for him.

No one dared to speak, and no one dared to stop them.

Because the murderous aura emanating from this poor and shabby young man was like a cold, sharp blade, sending chills down their spines.

Zhang Defa, gripping his wine glass, trembled: "They've rebelled! They've rebelled! A bunch of ungrateful bastards, they don't know what's good for them! I'll see how you die tomorrow!"

......

Once outside the French Concession, the neon lights and Western music behind us were instantly blown away by the cold wind, and the mud and damp chill of Zhabei rushed towards us.

"boom--"

A pale flash of lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a deafening rumble of thunder; a downpour was imminent.

"Xiao Feng! Waaaaaah..."

Lin's wife cried so hard she could barely stand, her voice choked with sobs: "It's all my fault... I've let you down..."

Chen Feng stopped and let the cold wind blow on his face to calm his feverish brain.

"Mom, it's not your fault! This is fate, but fate can be changed!"

He touched the only two silver dollars in his pocket; that was his tuition fee.

Defense is maxed out.

Now, what he lacks are fangs.

"There's still one night and one day left before sunset tomorrow!"

Chen Feng looked up at the dark night sky and muttered to himself, each word ringing with conviction: "Either I scrape together the tuition to learn how to kill, or I'll grab a kitchen knife and fight them to the death!"

The rain finally started to fall.