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

Before dawn, the thick darkness of night still pressed down on the ground, making it difficult for all the poor to escape poverty.

"Ah Qiao!"

"I'm leaving!"

After having breakfast, Chen Feng pushed open the door and went out alone towards Xinzha Bridge.

The bundle on his back was heavy. Inside, besides the remaining four silver dollars and a few loose copper coins, there was a kitchen knife hidden closest to his body, which he regarded as a talisman.

In this chaotic world, the mottled dark red on the blade always gives people a sense of security and a place to live.

We traveled at a brisk pace.

After half a day, the blurry outline of the new sluice bridge finally appeared in the distance.

That was a place he had seen in movies in his previous life, but the reality before him had none of the glamour, romance, and beauty he had seen on screen.

Among the lower classes, this bridge had only one chilling nickname—"Human Sifting Machine!" Chen Feng knew better than anyone that the lifeline of Xinzha Bridge was firmly in the hands of Mr. Du of the Green Gang. The exorbitant taxes and levies on the bridge were as numerous as hairs on a cow, and it had long been a living hell that people feared.

As they got closer and closer.

The outline of the bridge became clearer and clearer. Before even stepping onto the bridgehead, the noisy and bustling voices, along with a damp and fishy smell, rushed towards us.

Along the roadside, long lines of carts stretched out, and the laborers, taking advantage of the breaks in their queues, would gather in small groups, muttering curses about this cannibalistic world.

They were all poorly clothed, pale and emaciated, and skin and bones. Although they could nominally earn 0.8 silver dollars a day, after deducting all sorts of taxes and fees such as shift fees, protection fees, passage fees, filial piety fees, cargo breathing tax, bridge vibration wear and tear fees, and cart brake fees, what they received in the end was not even enough to make a living!

In the crowd, a thin, tall coolie squatted on the ground, took a drag of his bitter hookah, coughed violently, choking until his face turned red, and then let out a desperate sigh: "When will this damned misery ever end!"

Looking at his hunched, thin back, Chen Feng instantly understood the reason for his furrowed brows—the Green Gang had come up with a "vertical axis tax," levying a separate tax based on the number of vertebrae in the cart laborers, and this was only one of the three major "cart organ taxes"!

Chen Feng sighed silently, suppressing the bitterness in his heart, and continued walking towards the bridgehead.

Not long after.

A row of stalls offering letter writing services and fortune telling came into view near the bridge.

These poor people who made a living by writing earned much more than the laborers carrying carts, earning 1.2 silver dollars a day. However, after deducting various taxes and fees under different pretexts, such as stall fees, protection fees, and tea fees, they could only make ends meet with half of what they earned.

"Hey buddy! How about we write a letter?"

An elderly gentleman with a goatee and round-framed glasses quickly looked up to solicit business. Seeing that Chen Feng hadn't stopped, he hurriedly added, "I can also tell fortunes by interpreting characters; I'm the most famous fortune teller in Xinzha Bridge!"

These words were spoken.

A fellow vendor nearby scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm: "What a load of rubbish! You've got your stall set up so high today; we'll see who the real god is soon enough!"

Before he could finish speaking...

A series of aggressive footsteps approached from afar, and several Green Gang thugs dressed in short-sleeved shirts and with fierce faces walked over arrogantly, their eyes fixed on the "Half-Immortal Sai" like those of vicious wolves.

Before the old man could even speak, the thugs pulled out a pair of calipers and began measuring the stall without a word.

"Master, you've set up your stall quite high today!"

The lead thug spoke in a sinister tone: "We need to impose a shadow tax!"

The old man's face turned ashen instantly. He had wanted to raise his stall higher to attract more customers, but he never expected to run into the Green Gang's exorbitant taxes. In this world, demons and monsters rule, and ordinary people have no room to breathe.

As Chen Feng watched this scene, memories suddenly flooded back to him—back then, he and his mother lived in a dilapidated reed hut. Even though their home was bare, they still had to pay that absurd shadow tax every month, which was nothing more than a small shadow cast on the ground by the hut.

He sighed softly. In this cannibalistic world, compassion is the cheapest and most powerless thing. He could only keep moving forward.

As we approached the bridge, a sweet aroma of roasted sweet potatoes wafted towards us.

An elderly woman with gray hair was standing under the steam generator at Xinzha Bridge, using the residual heat of the machine to roast sweet potatoes.

Chen Feng took out a copper coin, bought only a sweet potato, and casually asked, "Auntie, how much do you earn in a day?"

The old woman gripped the coins tightly a few times, wiped the dust off her face, and forced a bitter smile.

finally.

She simply held up her palm, not daring to say anything.

Chen Feng understood. She worked herself to the bone to earn 0.5 silver dollars a day. After deducting all the exorbitant taxes and levies, she could barely bring back 2 jin of bran for her family. Her only consolation was that when she was extremely hungry, she could gnaw on a few bites of roasted sweet potato skin to fill her stomach.

at this time.

The sounds of boat horns and boatmen's chants on the river gradually faded into the distance. The lined carts moved slowly like an ant colony, their iron wheels grinding against the steel grating with a harsh clanging sound that made one's teeth ache.

Chen Feng looked up at the closed bridge. Several maintenance workers were repeatedly wiping the bridge joints with oil-soaked cloths, and an indescribable, pungent stench filled the air.

......

He instinctively covered his mouth and nose, his stomach churning, and the sweet potato in his hand instantly became incredibly foul-smelling, making it impossible to swallow. He simply handed the remaining sweet potato to the old woman.

The old man was overjoyed and bowed repeatedly to Chen Feng, a sight that broke the heart.

"well--"

He sighed again, his steps firm as he walked deeper into the bridgehead. The closer he got, the more thugs the Green Gang had, and the more oppressive and terrifying the atmosphere became.

Chen Feng was shocked to discover that everyone who wanted to cross the bridge was stopped by thugs from the Green Gang, who used a cold "vernier blood caliper" to measure their chest volume and collect exorbitant tolls for crossing the bridge.

Just then.

A silk reeling worker hurried past him. Chen Feng looked at her strange figure and felt that she looked strangely familiar, much like those deformed internet celebrities in his previous life's videos.

next second.

After taking the measurements with calipers, the Green Gang thug cursed at the female worker's retreating figure, "Damn it, that bitch really knows how to take advantage of loopholes; she actually sawed off two pieces of her ribs herself!"

Another thug sneered maliciously, "It's just a matter of paying 0.1 yuan less. We'll find an excuse to make her cough it all up, with interest!"

The voice just fell.

A well-dressed, slick-haired man, holding a piece of paper that read "Volume Tax-Free Gold Medal," swaggered past the thugs. Upon seeing this, the Green Gang members respectfully let him pass.

Chen Feng frowned deeply, instantly recalling his uncle Zhang Defa, who worked for foreigners and acted arrogantly!

Just then, a heart-wrenching, agonizing scream ripped through the sky!

Chen Feng's heart sank, and his gaze abruptly turned towards the direction from which the screams came.

That place was none other than the infamous "Green Gang Meat-Slicing Platform," feared by all who crossed the bridge!

......

A tall, thin man wearing small sunglasses was seen carefully recording information in a ledger.

......

Chen Feng could see clearly that the cover of the ledger was actually sewn together.

There wasn't just one book on the table, but a thick stack!

Each one is a ledger of sins—it records how, on this new sluice bridge, the Green Gang thugs cut off a staggering 210 kilograms of flesh every single day!

"This world is truly despicable!!"

Chen Feng clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white, his palms aching from his fingernails. A surge of rage and murderous intent nearly burst from his chest, but he forcefully suppressed it. Just then, a crisp metallic clang reached his ears.

"Clang clang clang—"

Chen Feng turned his head in the direction of the sound and saw several silver coin dealers with cloth bags slung over their shoulders, tapping the iron railings at the bridgehead with silver coins. The ear-piercing sound seemed particularly eerie in this hell on earth.

(This is Chapter 31, "The Bridge of Helplessness in the Human World." Please ignore the logic and just bear with this unfinished version! Thank you for your understanding.)