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

1930 2 Month 12 Day.

The fourteenth day of the first month of the Gengwu year.

The bright sun, like molten gold, bathed the layers of Shikumen houses, the rows of foreign firm buildings, and even the awning boats floating on the Suzhou Creek in a warm, luminous glow.

The light pierced through the lingering gloom of the bustling city, but it couldn't compare to the intense heat surging through the streets and alleys.

"Newspapers for sale! Newspapers for sale! Extra edition of Shen Bao!"

"A rising star in the martial arts world slays Japanese pirates; the Songjiang Wharf wipes out a Japanese stronghold!"

"The Songjiang County government seized a large amount of Japanese military supplies, lifting the entire county out of poverty overnight!"

Newsboys, wearing tattered cloth shoes and clutching newspapers with still-wet ink, weaved through the crowds on Nanjing Road like fish.

The rickshaw driver abandoned his passenger and snatched a portion of his hard-earned money.

The woman in the cheongsam leaned against the window of the foreign firm, quickly scanning the headlines, her almond-shaped eyes wide open;

Even the old man who ran a cigarette stall at the alley entrance trembled as he pulled out a coin, repeatedly muttering, "Really? Someone really took care of those Japanese devils?"

The Chinese people, who have suffered greatly from the oppression of foreigners, especially the Japanese ronin, are even more excited than when they stayed up to welcome the New Year on New Year's Eve.

In the alley, some people burned incense and lit candles, kowtowing and praying towards the Songjiang River.

In the tavern, strangers raised their glasses and shouted, "Pray for the hero Chen Feng!" They were completely unaware that they had spilled wine all over themselves.

Copies of the Shenbao newspaper were eagerly passed around, their edges curled and the ink blurred, yet they were still regarded as treasures.

In stark contrast to the jubilation in Shanghai, the Hongkou Dojo was now as if plunged into an ice cellar.

In the center of the dojo.

Dozens of samurai dressed in black karate uniforms knelt trembling on the cold tatami mats, their heads bowed low, barely daring to breathe.

On the high platform, two men dressed in kimonos and with samurai swords at their waists had faces so gloomy they could drip water.

On the left, Kurosawa Ciga's face was contorted with rage, his right hand gripping the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white.

On the right is Yoshimura Mishi, whose triangular eyes are narrowed to slits, and the sinister look in his eyes is almost like a sharp blade.

"Baka!!"

Kurosawa Ciga suddenly kicked over the table in front of him, shattering teacups and scrolls all over the floor with a particularly jarring sound in the silent dojo.

"How could someone of Mishima's skill die at the hands of a mere Chinese pig?!"

Yoshimura's voice was shrill like an owl's, each word dripping with venom: "And a hundred elite Marine ninja! Those were suicide soldiers trained by the Marine Corps over three years! Now they've all been slaughtered at Matsue Wharf! Their stronghold has been taken, their weapons seized, you bunch of useless trash!"

Before he could finish speaking...

Unable to contain their anger any longer, the two leaped off the platform and began punching and kicking the kneeling samurai.

The crisp sound of a slap hitting a face, the muffled groan of a kick, and the repeated curses of "Baka!" intertwined to create a farcical spectacle.

The samurai dared not resist, and could only cover their heads and flee, letting the fists and kicks fall on their bodies, with only a trace of resentment and fear flashing in their eyes.

Not far from Hongkou Dojo—Jiangwan Road!

In the telegraph room of the Japanese Marine Corps headquarters, the beeping of the telegraph keys was as dense as a torrential downpour.

A communications soldier quickly translated the telegram and handed it to the leading officer with trembling hands.

The officer took the note, glanced at it, and his expression changed drastically. He slammed the note on the table: "Damn it! Our navy's invasion plan to land in Shanghai has been ruined by a Chinese warrior!"

In a dark corner.

A figure in a white naval uniform slowly walked out; it was Marine Corps Regiment Commander Ichiro Yamamoto.

He clutched a crumpled copy of the Shenbao newspaper in his hand, the words "Chen Feng" on the front page burning his eyes like a red-hot iron.

"This is a humiliating disgrace to the Imperial Navy!"

"This is also a great disgrace to the Hongkou Dojo!"

Yamamoto Ichiro gritted his teeth, and the veins on his forehead throbbed.

Just then, the telegraph machine started beeping urgently again.

After translating the new telegram, the signalman, pale-faced, shouted, "Regimental Commander! Urgent telegram from headquarters!"

Yamamoto Ichiro snatched the telegram, which read in bold: "The Matsue base has been destroyed, the Water Ghost Ninjas have been wiped out, and the Shanghai-Matsu Line spy network has suffered a severe blow. If... if the Marine Corps suffers another major defeat like this, the landing plan may be seriously delayed. Those guys in the Army will definitely take the opportunity to incite the Kwantung Army to act ahead of schedule, at which point the Navy will completely lose its leadership!"

His fingertips gripped the telegram tightly.

"Baka! Baka!"

Yamamoto Ichiro's eyes grew increasingly fierce, like a lurking beast: "Chen Feng... no matter who you are, I will tear you to pieces!"

In a darker corner, a figure slowly leaned forward, his face still shrouded in shadow: "No! We must shatter the myth of Chinese martial arts! We must completely eradicate the Chinese people's desire for martial arts, enslave them, soften them..."

When Shanghai was in turmoil, experiencing both extremes of life and death!

The Huayang Ferry Terminal in Songjiang, a hundred miles away, exudes a tranquil yet lively atmosphere.

"Cough cough—!"

Two low coughs broke the silence of the hut.

After being unconscious for two days and two nights, Chen Feng slowly opened his eyes. What he saw was the dim yellow light of an oil lamp and a handsome face close to his face.

Hu Tao was holding a bowl of decocted herbs when she saw him suddenly open his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat, and her hand loosened. The rough porcelain bowl crashed to the ground with a "bang," spilling the medicine all over the ground. The medicine, mixed with broken porcelain shards, spread a dark brown stain on the bluestone slab.

"You...you're awake?" Hu Tao's voice trembled uncontrollably, filled with surprise and joy.

"May you be safe and sound! May you be safe and sound!" Wang Xiaoer, who was behind her, suddenly stood up and bowed repeatedly.

"Awake?!" Er Gou was squatting by the door peeling oranges. He was stunned for a moment, then jumped up suddenly, not even bothering to pick up the oranges that rolled all over the ground.

"Chen Feng is awake! Brother Chen Feng is awake!"

The boy's clear shout, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, instantly echoed throughout the entire dock.

Just a moment later.

The door of the thatched hut was pushed open, and Hu Mingxuan and a group of dockworkers filed in.

The small thatched hut was instantly packed with people, and even the area outside the hut was surrounded by people.

Everyone's face was filled with excitement. The look in their eyes as they looked at Chen Feng was filled with relief at surviving a disaster, as well as undisguised admiration and awe—this young man was a hero who single-handedly killed Japanese pirates and wiped out the Japanese stronghold!

"Brother Feng, you're finally awake!"

"We were so worried! Hu Sanzhen said you were badly injured, we thought you'd be bedridden for half a month!"

As everyone chattered amongst themselves, Hu Tao quickly stepped forward, pulling the crowd back and explaining softly, "Brother Chen, to avoid making your journey tiring, we didn't rush back to Shanghai, but instead moved to Huayangdu. It's remote here, and the Japanese and Green Gang thugs can't find us for the time being!"

She paused, then, as if remembering something, quickly added, "The little steamer's lease expired, so Tangtang went back to Shanghai with it... Before she left, she specifically told me that you must come back to Shanghai to see her after you recover, and she also said... she also said she had a big surprise for you!"

Hu Mingxuan stroked his chin thoughtfully and replied, "That young lady's identity is quite extraordinary; I bet that surprise is anything but simple!"

Er Gou squeezed to the front, shaking his head as he said, "I never imagined that Zen temple was a den of Japanese spies. Just thinking about that release pond is terrifying. Those Shandong miners and us Jiangsu farmers were truly pitiful..."

He suppressed his discomfort, paused, and then changed the subject: "Brothers Ah Si and Pig have gone out on important business. They said they're going to gather information and handle some matters in the martial arts world. They should be back soon!"

Wang Xiaoer's throat tightened with nervousness, and he stammered, "Brother Chen Feng! Brother Chen Feng! When are you planning to return to Shanghai? Everyone in Shanghai wants to see what you look like!"

Chen Feng was about to speak.

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out from outside the door, "Make way! Make way quickly! I want to see how this great hero is recovering!"

Everyone turned around.

Hu Sanzhen, carrying his medicine box, pushed through the crowd and squeezed in.

He plopped down on the edge of the bed, grabbed Chen Feng's wrist without a word, and placed his fingertips on his pulse.

After a while.

He then pulled back the blanket covering Chen Feng, examined the bandaged wounds, slapped his thigh, and exclaimed, "Amazing! Absolutely amazing! You're a tough nut to crack! Your recovery speed is far beyond that of ordinary people. You can practically jump out of bed now!"

Upon hearing this, the crowd cheered once again.

Worried that Chen Feng might be tired, Hu Tao quickly waved her hand, "Alright, alright, our hero just woke up and needs to rest. You can all go out now and come see him later!"

The group chuckled awkwardly and gradually left the hut, reminding Chen Feng to take good care of himself before leaving.

The thatched cottage returned to tranquility.

After washing up, Chen Feng felt much refreshed.

He then slowly walked out of the thatched hut and headed towards the riverbank at Huayang Ferry.