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

Afternoon tea time.

"Remember this! The way of tea is also a way!"

Hu Sanzhen lightly tapped the tea table with his fingertips, and the porcelain cup emitted a clear and crisp sound that rippled gently in the cabin.

He went on to explain everything from the proper use of teaware and the timing of boiling water, to the interpersonal relationships, underworld secrets, and dock rules in the teahouse, detailing each word as if it were his own.

"Tsk tsk—!!"

Chen Feng was shocked to hear this—it turned out that this small space contained not only a cup of tea, but also the ways of the world and people's hearts, and the great principles of the martial arts world hidden in the everyday life.

Hu Sanzhen slowly stood up, and said, "The rest is up to you!"

As the two stepped out of the cabin, a long, drawn-out whistle pierced the water.

"Waaah————"

The small steamer had already entered the Songjiang waters and was slowly heading towards the "Fenghuangshan Nandu Wharf".

Before the ship had even come to a complete stop.

Hu Mingxuan then pointed to the area in front of him, a place where waterways and land routes intersect and boats gather, and began to introduce it to everyone.

The Songjiang area is dotted with wharves, with Mishi Ferry, Zhangjing Ferry, Xiuye ​​Bridge, and Baojia Bridge each occupying their own territory. They are divided into three categories according to their functions: canal transport, commerce, and ferry crossing. However, the "Fenghuangshan South Ferry Wharf" where they are currently docked is the most special one among them.

The place is named Cihang Temple because it is located on the mountaintop. It is a ferry crossing for pilgrims to come and go, and it is also the most mysterious three-sided dock in Songjiang City. It is also the key reason why the two bandit leaders insisted on choosing this place.

It's the first month of the lunar calendar, and the festive atmosphere of the New Year hasn't faded yet.

Pilgrims came and went, shoulder to shoulder, while awning boats, rowing boats, and painted boats carrying blessings shuttled back and forth on the water. The sounds of oars cutting through the water, boatmen's chants, vendors' calls, and pilgrims' whispers blended together. From a distance, the shoreline looked like a long dragon and the boats looked like fish scales. Beneath this prosperous scene, however, there were undercurrents that were hard for others to detect.

On the rowboats in the deep water area of ​​the dock, the boatmen are all strong and agile, their rowing movements are smooth and fluid, their shoulders and backs are taut and powerful, and their eyes are sharp as eagles.

Chen Feng could tell at a glance that these boatmen were no ordinary laborers who made a living by the water; they all possessed some real skills.

Seeing this, Hu Mingxuan explained in a low voice that this area of ​​water was under the jurisdiction of the Songjiang Gang. The boatmen had been practicing water skills since childhood. One skill, "Turning the Waves," involved using the iron hoops at the end of the oar to poke eyes and the oar handle to sweep the knees, specializing in attacking the lower body. Another skill, "Reversing the Tide," involved using the oar handle to twist and seize weapons. They could also rely on the swaying of the boat to generate power, making them almost unapproachable on the water.

He then pointed to the boatmen's peculiar gait, a unique "crab walk" where their toes gripped the deck tightly to prevent slipping, allowing them to remain as steady as a rock despite the turbulent winds and waves.

Finally, the finger landed on the bridge pier on the shore, which was covered with fine fish scale patterns. Three scales meant three feet of water depth, and five scales meant hidden currents and dangerous shoals. These were the water coded messages passed down from generation to generation by the sailors of Songjiang.

The heart of the wharf is filled with a diverse array of characters: water carriers, peddlers, fortune tellers, women carrying incense baskets, and wandering swordsmen with short knives at their waists. Some walk hurriedly, some stop to observe, and some whisper among themselves, vividly depicting the bustling and dangerous life of a wharf.

Among them, the most eye-catching were the porters carrying sacks. Bare-chested, their coarse cloth shirts soaked with sweat, they tightly bound the cargo from the ship to their backs, climbing the seventy-two steep stone steps with each breath. To keep their footing on the slippery stone steps, they had iron nails embedded in their soles. Each step on the bluestone slabs produced a crisp clanging sound. Years of trampling had long since covered the hard stone surface with dense grooves, a testament to the hardship and difficulty of making a living at the dock.

"Waaah—"

With a sharp, piercing whistle, the small steamer finally came to a steady stop at the Class A berth.

Looking at the spacious and deep berth in front of him, Chen Feng suddenly had doubts. It was just a pier for pilgrims, yet it had a berth of such a standard, and the water level was much deeper than that of an ordinary ferry crossing. These unusual details made the strangeness of this three-sided pier even more mysterious!

After dividing the work...

The boatman stayed behind to watch the boat, but Hu Sanzhen, finding the mountain climb tiring and unwilling to travel with them, had already picked up his fishing rod and pointed to a place shrouded in mist halfway up the mountain, saying there was a large "pond" where he wanted to leisurely fish, and then left the group on his own.

The rest of the group went ashore and went their separate ways: Tangtang and Hutao strolled enthusiastically toward the dock market, followed by more than ten Hu Qingyutang shop assistants, who were there to protect the two girls and help carry their purchases.

Chen Feng, Hu Mingxuan, and Wang Xiaoer then climbed the ancient stone path, heading straight for the teahouse at the top of the mountain.

The purpose of this trip is twofold: firstly, to coordinate the ransom arrangements, and secondly, for Chen Feng to investigate the whereabouts of "Water Rat." This teahouse is the agreed-upon meeting place.

"Tap tap tap—"

The mountain path is winding and tortuous, with ancient trees reaching for the sky along the way. Incense smoke from the Zen temple drifts in the wind, and the distant sound of bells can be faintly heard. However, the closer one gets to the summit, the fainter the peaceful atmosphere in the air becomes, replaced by an inexplicable sense of oppression.

Occasionally, you can see vendors setting up stalls to tell fortunes and sell incense and candles for blessings on both sides of the mountain road. However, their eyes are not as simple and honest as those of ordinary vendors. Instead, they are more scrutinizing and wary.

The stone steps, polished smooth by time, occasionally reveal mottled marks. Compared to the bustling docks below, the mountainside is unusually quiet.

Not long after.

The three of them finally reached the summit of Phoenix Mountain, where, deep within a courtyard with green tiles and flying eaves, the renowned "Cihang Zen Temple" came into view.

But when Chen Feng looked at the temple, which should have been solemn and dignified, his heightened senses made him feel a chill down his spine.

He frowned slightly, then looked away, his gaze falling on the teahouse at the dock not far away, where the three large characters "Cihang Pavilion" on the lintel instantly came into view.

However, the handwriting lacked both the modern style of the Republic of China era and the profound simplicity of ancient calligraphy. The strokes were twisted and the atmosphere was cold. Chen Feng felt a pause in his heart after just one glance, and a sense of unease quietly crept into his mind.

"Evil aura!"

Wang Xiaoer stared at the plaque and blurted it out.

"Yes! You're right!" Chen Feng patted him on the shoulder sharply, his eyes full of agreement—"It's evil energy!"

After being reminded by the two, Hu Mingxuan immediately became alert.

He raised his foot to step through the door, then slowly lowered it again, staring intently at the characters on the plaque. He felt the handwriting was strangely familiar, but no matter how hard he racked his brains, he couldn't recall where he had seen it before.

After a moment's hesitation.

The three of them stepped into the teahouse.

"Whoosh—!!"

The tea house was already bustling with activity, with every table packed full. Tea drinkers gathered in twos and threes, whispering among themselves, some gossiping about local gossip, others discussing the changing fortunes of Shanghai. The noise, mixed with the aroma of tea, filled the air.

Chen Feng's gaze slowly swept over his surroundings, and his pupils suddenly contracted—the table in the teahouse with the best view from the window and the most conspicuous location was completely empty, with no one sitting down.

"here!"

Wang Xiaoer, with his sharp eyes, spotted the empty table immediately, strode forward, and plopped down on it: "Bring tea!"

Before the words had even finished,

The entire teahouse fell silent instantly, and everyone stared at Wang Xiaoer, seemingly dumbfounded.

next second.

"Ta-da!"

A tea server rushed forward in a flustered manner, his voice sharp and piercing. He raised his hand to drive Wang Xiaoer away and started shouting at him.

"Hey—you little brat, don't you know any manners?!"