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

"Senior Brother, keep up the good work!"

Yan Tieqiao leaned on his cane, his gaze slowly sweeping over the disciples, finally settling steadily on Qian Hu in the front row. His aged voice, tinged with deliberate praise, clearly echoed in every corner.

"Qian Hu, you've mastered the basics of standing meditation in just three days! Your talent far surpasses that of ordinary people. You'll soon be able to attempt the second stage. Your future is bright!"

These words were spoken.

Qian Hu instantly straightened his back, his chin almost reaching the sky, and his smugness was practically overflowing.

He deliberately straightened his back, glanced back and forth in front of his fellow disciples, his eyes full of boastfulness and arrogance, as if he were already Yan Tieqiao's closed-door disciple and was the most outstanding.

But no one noticed.

Yan Tieqiao outwardly praised Qian Hu, but his eyes subtly lingered on Chen Feng in the corner.

His sharp, eagle-like perception accurately captured the fleeting glint of light in Chen Feng's eyes—a moment of sudden enlightenment, a look that caught the hidden intent of his punches.

But the next moment.

"Chen Feng!"

Yan Tieqiao's face suddenly darkened, all his previous praise vanished, replaced by a cold and stern rebuke, his voice booming and silencing the entire room.

"As a direct disciple, you haven't even mastered the most basic standing meditation. Your comprehension is poor, and your mind is lazy. You've utterly disgraced me!"

Before he could finish speaking...

"Thump—"

Yan Tieqiao slammed his cane on the ground and said coldly, "You are punished by immediately going to the kitchen with Yan Xiaomei to cook. You are not allowed to practice martial arts for a day. Reflect on your actions!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the entire room fell silent for a moment, then erupted into unrestrained laughter.

"Hahaha! I knew he was a good-for-nothing! He can't even get the basics of Zhan Zhuang (standing meditation)!"

"Why be a disciple? Serving as my junior sister's assistant, cook, or nanny is just what suits me best!"

"You've utterly disgraced our Yan family!"

The mocking laughter pelted Chen Feng like pebbles, sharp, sarcastic, and merciless.

Available in the next second.

"wrong--!"

Everyone suddenly realized—Chen Feng was going to spend the whole day alone with Yan Xiaomei!

Yan Xiaomei is pretty and gentle, and is the unspoken desire of all the young disciples of the Yan Clan. Yet, Chen Feng, this "good-for-nothing," has taken away her chance to be alone with her.

In an instant, mockery turned into jealousy, and ridicule into resentment.

"Why? Why should a good-for-nothing like him, who can't even perform a proper stance, be allowed to stay with Junior Sister?"

"Why don't we ever get the good things? It's like all our good luck has been eaten by dogs!"

"Just wait and see, Master will kick him out of the gym sooner or later!"

Everyone's eyes were red, their teeth were clenched, and their gazes toward Chen Feng were filled with hatred that seemed to drip blood.

Qian Hu stood at the front, his smugness frozen, his lips twitching wildly, his heart feeling like it had swallowed a thousand flies, both disgusting and repulsive, so hateful that he almost ground his teeth to powder.

Chen Feng's fingers, hanging at his sides, twitched slightly.

Others only heard the scolding and saw the punishment, but only he knew that his master's scolding was not calling him stupid, but rather awakening him to the key to understanding!

Yan Tieqiao's seemingly casual gaze, his seemingly casual insults, and his instructions to his senior brother on the fist techniques had already pierced through his long-standing confusion like a bolt of lightning...

Chen Feng showed no smugness, nor did he offer any explanation. He simply lowered his eyes slightly, concealing the sudden glint of sharpness in them, and calmly replied, "Yes, Master!"

Turning around, she followed Yan Xiaomei into the kitchen, her back view as quiet as a bottomless pool of water.

This silent and submissive demeanor, however, was seen by his fellow disciples as a sign of being in the wrong, cowardly, and resigned to his fate.

The mockery intensified.

......

During lunch, everyone deliberately avoided Chen Feng.

He squatted alone on the stone stool in the corner, like a shadow that was disliked by others.

Only the eldest brother, kind-hearted, strode over with his bowl, squatted down beside him, and whispered, "Ninth Brother, are you having trouble with your stance...? Tell me!"

Before the words were finished, a cold, sharp voice rang out—"Even food can't shut you up! Cultivation is about the heart, not the mouth!"

Yan Tieqiao swept his gaze over the crowd with an imposing aura.

The eldest brother froze, not daring to say another word.

Not far away, Qian Hu and several close disciples chuckled to themselves, their eyes filled with schadenfreude.

The other disciples were so frightened that they quickly moved away, afraid of getting any bad luck from Chen Feng. Their already thin friendship was now completely severed.

Chen Feng remained silent, quietly picking at the rice in his bowl, eating slowly, bite by bite.

in the afternoon.

The sound of punches echoed throughout the gym.

All the disciples were throwing punches and kicks with great momentum, and Qian Hu was fighting fiercely, as if he wanted to steal all the glory.

Just then.

"Little Sister Yan!"

Yan Tieqiao said calmly, "Give the laundry you did today to Chen Feng!"

The words had barely left his lips.

"Hahaha! Back to being a maid again!"

"A direct descendant of a powerful family, reduced to a menial servant—truly the greatest laughingstock of all time!"

"If I were him, I would have smashed my head against a wall and killed myself!"

Another burst of laughter erupted, even the wind seemed to carry a mocking tone.

"good--"

Chen Feng remained silent, took the clothes, and walked to the well to wash them quietly.

The well water was icy cold, but his hands were very steady; with each rub, he was refining his character.

After a while.

After the clothes were hung up to dry, the senior brother and junior sister praised them enthusiastically, but Yan Tieqiao didn't even glance at them.

next second.

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

The three sharp cracks of the cane striking the ground sent shivers down everyone's spines.

"Chen Feng!"

Yan Tieqiao's cold eyes were like knives as he pointed to the three mountains of hardwood, taller than a person and as thick as a bowl, in the corner of the courtyard. His voice was as cold as ice: "Chop these three huge piles... If you don't finish, you're not allowed to leave, you're not allowed to eat, and you're not allowed to rest!"

Upon hearing this, the entire audience gasped.

That was the hardest old locust and jujube wood. Let alone a novice disciple, even a veteran who had practiced for three to five years might not be able to finish chopping it in a day and a night!

The fellow apprentices immediately erupted in chaos.

"Master is clearly setting him up!"

"Three huge piles? That's going to kill him!"

"Useless is useless; he's completely infuriated Master!"

"I don't think he'll be getting any sleep tonight; even if he works until dawn, it won't do him any good!"

The mockery came like a tidal wave, each one more jarring and vicious than the last.

Qian Hu's mouth stretched from ear to ear, and he was so happy that he almost burst out laughing.

Everyone was waiting to see Chen Feng break down, beg for mercy, and look miserable.

But Chen Feng simply raised his eyes and looked at the three piles of firewood. There was no grievance, no anger, no resentment in his eyes, only a kind of quiet contemplation that was terrifying.

What outsiders saw was hard labor, torture, and harassment.

What Chen Feng saw was the path his master had paved for him—using an axe as a fist, wood as strength, hardship as training, and pain as a test.

He slowly walked forward and reached out to grasp the rough axe.

There was no turning back, no explanation, and not a trace of resentment.

The axe fell in the next instant!

"Bang—!"

The hardwood cracked.

He remained silent amidst the ridicule and mockery, burying himself in his work.

The mockery from my fellow disciples still echoed in my ears.

"Stop pretending! You'll run out of energy soon!"

"Let's see how long he can last! I bet he'll collapse in half an hour!"

"What a stubborn fool! He doesn't know how to pay to avoid trouble; he deserves to be punished!"

Chen Feng ignored him.

One axe blow after another.

Sweat dripped down his forehead and chin, hitting the dust and quickly spreading into a small wet patch.

In just a short while.

His clothes were completely soaked through, clinging to his body and revealing taut, powerful lines.

"well--"

The eldest disciple stood outside the crowd, his brows furrowed, his fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly. Several times he raised his foot to plead for mercy, but when he met Yan Tieqiao's cold gaze, he forced himself to retreat.

Yan Xiaomei, who was not far away, was even more absent-minded. She pricked her finger several times with the needle and thread, but her eyes were always fixed on the figure who kept swinging the axe. Her eyes gradually turned red.

As the sun began to set, the disciples gradually dispersed.

Everyone who passed by the woodshed would stop, sneer at Chen Feng, spit, and curse, trampling all the superiority they had felt that day onto him.

"A piece of trash is a piece of trash; all they do is chop wood!"

"Let's spend the night here!"

"Ha ha ha ha--"

Qian Hu was in high spirits and loudly proclaimed that he would treat everyone to drinks.

Only the eldest brother silently shook his head, made an excuse that he had something to do, and left alone.

The sound of axes clashing in the woodshed never ceased.

One axe blow after another.

The force became more and more stable, the breathing became more and more deep, and the waist and hips became more and more aligned.

Calm, resolute, and silent, yet concealing a sharp edge poised to pierce the clouds.

At the hour of Xu (7-9 PM), it was completely dark.

Yan Xiaomei, carrying a hot meal, was about to take a step when Yan Tieqiao stopped her with a cold shout: "Stop! Don't go!"

The junior sister's eyes were red with anxiety, but she dared not disobey.

The bright moon rose into the sky, its clear light spilling out and illuminating the courtyard as if it were daytime.

Chen Feng's hands were already covered with dense, purplish-red blisters, and every time he gripped the axe handle, it was excruciatingly painful.

But he didn't stop; instead, his movements became smoother and more in line with the principles of boxing.

"Dad...please let him rest..." Yan Xiaomei pleaded, her voice choked with sobs.

All he received in return was Yan Tieqiao's even colder rebuke: "Womanly compassion! On the path of cultivation, one cannot enter the inner sanctum without shedding a layer of skin!"

At 9 PM, all the blood blisters were worn away and burst.

Bright red blood gushed from his palm, soaking the axe handle and dripping onto the firewood, blooming into tiny, crimson blood flowers.

The excruciating pain was unbearable. Chen Feng's forehead was covered in cold sweat, and his lips were bitten until they turned white, but he didn't even utter a muffled groan.

Yan Xiaomei could no longer hold on. She collapsed to her knees with a thud, sobbing uncontrollably, "Dad! I beg you! Let him go! He can't hold on much longer—"

Chen Feng abruptly stopped swinging his axe, quickly stepped forward, and gently helped her up.

His voice was hoarse, yet unusually calm, carrying a composure born from enduring extreme pain: "Junior Sister, I'm alright... I'll be done soon!"

Done.

He turned back and gripped the blood-stained axe tightly once more.

Under the moonlight, that slender yet upright figure, with axe after axe, smashed through the contempt of everyone, and also smashed open the door to his own martial arts path.

Zi Shi (子时) means midnight.

The last piece of hardwood cracked with a snap.

Three large piles of timber, neatly stacked like mountains.

Chen Feng slowly put down the axe. His hands were covered in blood and gore, but he stood straight with clear, star-like eyes.

At this time.

The master's wife came over carrying a lamp and gently handed him a cup of hot tea in his trembling hands.

She gazed at Yan Tieqiao, who remained silent under the corridor, and gently raised her chin towards Chen Feng, her voice soft yet carrying a profound answer.

"Silly child, don't just stand there!"

"Go, offer your master a cup of tea—to the last disciple of his sect!"