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

"Um?"

Chen Feng froze, recoiled as if electrocuted, and his heart leaped into his throat.

in the dark.

Xiao Aqiao quietly raised her eyes, confirmed that Aunt Lin was fast asleep, immediately sat up, grabbed Chen Feng's collar, and pulled him close.

Her warm breath, carrying the faint fragrance unique to young girls, gently brushed against Chen Feng's cheek. Her voice was soft and gentle, like a feather stirring his heartstrings.

"Don't be afraid, I was worried you'd be cold at night, so I warmed the blankets for you beforehand!"

The voice just fell.

Little Aqiao, like a nimble yet shy kitten, tiptoed and darted back to her room, leaving Chen Feng standing frozen by the bed, his heart pounding erratically, his face...

The next day, just as dawn broke, a pale, fish-belly-like color appeared on the horizon.

Suppressing the strange panic in his heart, Chen Feng arrived at the backyard of the boxing gym early.

As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, he immediately cleared his mind of distractions, lowered his waist, straightened his stance, tucked his chest, and straightened his back, firmly establishing himself in the Tongbei Quan stance.

He stood motionless like a stone statue, letting the sweat roll down his forehead and cheeks, dripping onto the ground and spreading out small wet patches.

Time passed slowly, and the morning light gradually filled the boxing gym.

Chen Feng's legs felt sore, swollen, and numb, and his muscles twitched intermittently, but his internal strength was constantly settling and solidifying, and his foundation in stance training became more and more stable.

Before I knew it, it was noon, and the number before my eyes jumped slightly—[Tongbei Quan - Stance Training Introduction: 189/500]

"Dinner's ready!"

The disciples sat in a circle, and Chen Feng immediately noticed that there was an empty seat. The originally noisy dinner table became inexplicably dull.

"Where's Quebo?"

"Him! He tried to break through to the Mingjin level yesterday, but failed again... He left before dawn!"

One person spoke in a low voice, and the dining table instantly fell silent.

Chen Feng learned from his fellow apprentices' discussions that "Quebo's" family made a living by the railway. The area was a mixed bag of forces, with numerous gangs and frequent armed clashes.

His family scraped together money by selling everything they owned to send him to learn boxing, hoping he could develop some skills, secure a foothold for the family, and find a way to survive in this chaotic, cannibalistic world.

He followed his master diligently for five or six years, attempting to break through the Ming Jin barrier three times, but each time he was met with setbacks and could not achieve a breakthrough.

My savings are gone, and my spirit is broken!

Last night, he quietly packed his things and left without a word, leaving no farewell.

"Few people succeed on their first try, but if they fail three times, their life is over..." The eldest brother gripped his chopsticks, his knuckles turning slightly white, his tone full of regret and barely suppressed concern.

A senior student, well past forty, said in a deep voice, "Yes! How many five-year periods does one have in a lifetime? We can't afford to waste any more!"

Another disciple, around thirty years old, chimed in softly, "That's right... We have no background, no talent, no money. If we can't cultivate Ming Jin (a type of internal energy), we'll just be destined to be trampled on when we go back!"

These words struck everyone like a heavy stone.

A young disciple next to him had tears in his eyes. He shoveled the bland coarse grain rice into his bowl, his voice choked with emotion: "My family sold our only acre of land to send me here to learn boxing. If I can't even succeed, no... I'll have no face to go back to my hometown..."

"My dad said, if you don't make a name for yourself, don't go back. It's fine if you starve to death out there..."

"The threshold for Mingjin is too high. We have average aptitude and don't have powerful tonics like Qi and Blood Powder. How many of us can actually make it through?"

"If I can't make it in another year, I'll have no choice but to try my luck in Northeast China..."

Whispers rose and fell, and there was no more laughter at the dinner table, only the dull thud of bowls and chopsticks clattering.

A somber look hung over everyone's face. Some bowed their heads in silence, some feigned composure, and some had an unconcealable sense of confusion and fear in their eyes.

They were all "children" from low-income families who came to the boxing gym with a sliver of hope to change their fate, thinking that boxing could make them successful. But reality told them time and time again that they lacked talent and resources, and no matter how hard they tried, it was all in vain!

A collective sigh rippled through the crowd as they buried their heads in their food, the atmosphere heavy and oppressive like the persistent dark clouds hanging over Zhabei, making it hard to breathe.

Many of the students in this boxing gym come from poor backgrounds; no matter how well-off their families are, things aren't much better these days.

Practicing martial arts is merely a means to reach the level of Ming Jin (manifest strength), secure a stable job, and earn a decent living. Those who truly aspire to reach the pinnacle of An Jin (hidden strength), Hua Jin (transformation strength), and the highest level of Chinese martial arts are one in ten thousand.

Practicing martial arts requires not only natural talent and aptitude, but also the support of resources.

Day after day, disciples come and go in this small boxing gym. Some come full of hope, while others leave disheartened. This is just the most common thing in this chaotic world.

I just finished eating.

Suddenly, a series of urgent knocks sounded at the entrance of the boxing gym: "Knock, knock, knock—"

The door was gently pushed open, and a young man dressed in coarse cloth shorts peeked in.

This man had a conspicuous, bright red, bulbous nose, and his eyes were lively, looking around. He was shrewd and alert, with the shrewdness typical of people from the lower class.

"Hello fellow seniors, my name is Er Gou!"

"I came from the countryside, specifically to learn from Master Yan and earn a living!"

He bowed and scraped respectfully, quickly joining his fellow apprentices in conversation, offering them water and smiling obsequiously. In just a few words, he became one of them, appearing exceptionally lively.

But nobody noticed.

Er Gou seemed to be chatting and exchanging pleasantries with everyone, but his lively eyes kept glancing at Chen Feng, who was quietly tidying up in the corner. He had an inexplicable sense of attention and probing towards this taciturn but exceptionally hardworking disciple.

Chen Feng noticed the curious gaze from the newcomer, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"In the boxing gym, new faces replace the old, just like the changing of the seasons, bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new!"

……

in the afternoon.

The sounds of chopping wood and practicing boxing filled the boxing gym.

Chen Feng's cultivation was still tedious, but incredibly fulfilling.

"Hey--"

He swung his axe without stopping, each blow heavy and powerful, snapping the firewood in two, and soon a small mountain of wood was piled up.

Sweat soaked through his clothes and clung to his back, but he was oblivious, completely absorbed in the moment of splitting the wood.

"Hehehe—"

Er Gou chatted and laughed with his fellow disciples, making quite a scene, but his gaze seemed to have hooks, repeatedly falling on Chen Feng's back as he chopped firewood, as if trying to discern something different from this silent disciple.

As the sun sets, its afterglow paints the sky red.

The disciples gradually dispersed, and the boxing gym returned to silence.

"suck--"

Chen Feng took a deep breath and focused on practicing Tongbei Quan twice, once slowly practicing the internal energy and once quickly practicing the striking postures. His fists were smooth and expansive, combining both strength and gentleness.

"Good disciple! Well done!"

Yan Tieqiao stepped forward slowly and once again exchanged blows with Chen Feng.

With swift hand movements, he dissected the offensive and defensive variations of Tongbei Quan, teaching him step by step how to borrow force, generate power, break moves, and neutralize force in actual combat.

Every word of advice hit the nail on the head, and Chen Feng felt enlightened, gaining a deeper understanding of the boxing technique.

The system numbers jumped slightly, indicating that his cultivation had become even more solid.

[Introduction to Hard Qigong (426/500)]

[Introduction to Tongbei Quan (223/500)]

But not long after.

Chen Feng then saw his master's right leg tremble slightly, and a faint bluish-black tinge appeared on his ankle, as the old, deep-seated, cold injury flared up again.

Yan Tieqiao frowned deeply, cold sweat beading on his forehead, but he still stubbornly refused to stop.

"Master! Let's call it a day!" Chen Feng quickly stepped forward to support him.

Yan Tieqiao waved his hand, about to say it was alright, when Yan Xiaomei rushed over quickly, her little hands tightly gripping his arm, both heartbroken and stubborn, her eyes slightly red.

"Dad! Your legs hurt again, you're not allowed to practice anymore! I'll get angry if you do!"

Unable to resist his daughter's persistent pulling, Yan Tieqiao finally sighed and slowly stopped.

He looked at Chen Feng, who was full of energy and eager for practical experience, and said in a deep voice, "Today, someone else will train you!"

As soon as he finished speaking...

Yan Tieqiao's gaze fell on Yan Xiaomei, his tone leaving no room for argument: "Xiaomei, you go and beat him up!"

Yan Xiaomei froze on the spot, her cheeks flushing bright red, from her ears to her neck.

She clenched her small fists, instinctively took a step back, her eyes filled with panic and helplessness, hesitant to step forward, let alone hit Chen Feng.

"Hurry and make your move!"

Yan Tieqiao spoke calmly, yet with an undeniable air of authority.

Yan Xiaomei bit her lower lip, took a deep breath, slowly raised her hand, and imitated her usual boxing practice, using the simplest Tongbei Xiaojia Fist, her arm limply swinging towards Chen Feng's shoulder.

The force was as light as a breeze, the movements were slow, the stance loose, the shoulders firm, and the strength gentle—all the cautiousness of a young woman, as if afraid that the slightest exertion would injure the person before her.

"puff--"

A fist landed lightly on his arm, so lightly that it didn't even cause a jolt, like a gentle breeze.

Seeing this scene.

Yan Tieqiao stood silently to the side, his eyes calm, yet clearly telling Chen Feng—"If you want to practice your skills, you have to force her to make a move!"

"What should we do?"

Chen Feng was so anxious that cold sweat poured down his forehead, and his blood was surging through his body. He was waiting for a real beating to temper him.

But Yan Xiaomei's fists were as soft as cotton, and had no effect whatsoever in terms of tempering.

He couldn't help but shout loudly, his voice filled with urgency and earnestness.

"Hit me! Please! Hit me now!"