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

"This knife! It did me a favor!"

Chen Feng ran his palm over the shattered kitchen knife, the lines still warm from the bloody battle.

He sighed softly, his gaze intense: "Opportunities in martial arts are rare and hard to come by, but ordinary weapons are easy to obtain. This kitchen knife has been with me many times, and I'm already very comfortable using it. Even if it breaks, it will be a cherished memory!"

Yan Tieqiao nodded slightly upon hearing this, his gaze fixed intently on the shattered blade. He gestured for Chen Feng to keep it, his tone deep yet carrying an undeniable authority: "I have an old friend who is one of the world's top swordsmiths. I've asked him to forge a perfectly suited kitchen knife for you. If we can find rare materials to infuse into it, it might just be able to forge a peerless weapon no less powerful than the demon sword Muramasa!"

The words fell.

His expression suddenly turned serious, and he solemnly reminded Chen Feng: "Martial arts practitioners use visible force to dodge gun barrels and hidden force to dodge bullets, but once a firearm falls into the hands of a true martial artist, its power is far beyond what ordinary people can achieve with a gun!"

He paused for a moment.

Yan Tieqiao looked at Chen Feng, his eyes carrying a hint of recommendation: "Your sixth senior brother, Man Cang, while not the most outstanding among his fellow disciples in terms of cultivation, is a true 'gun fanatic'... This kid loves guns, understands guns, and plays with guns; his skill in concealing guns is unfathomable! He knows more about the gunfights in Shanghai than anyone else; just go find him!"

Before he could finish speaking...

The crescent-shaped door creaked open, and Yan Xiaomei and her master's wife swayed in, carrying two large baskets of heavy groceries.

Chen Feng quickly stood up and greeted him.

Yan Xiaomei also gave a curtsy with a smile, her clear almond-shaped eyes sweeping over Chen Feng as if she had a thousand words to say.

After the two figures disappeared into the kitchen.

A hint of doubt flashed in Chen Feng's eyes: "Given Master's family's wealth, Master's wife and younger sister would surely have new clothes made for the New Year. Why are they dressed so simply?"

"Tick-tock, tick-tock—"

Before we knew it, it was lunchtime.

The courtyard was filled with warm steam, and the clinking of bowls and chopsticks was crisp and pleasant.

Yan Xiaomei sat down next to Chen Feng, silently eating her rice. Her long eyelashes drooped, but she kept glancing at him intentionally or unintentionally.

"Junior Sister!"

Chen Feng called out softly, his internal meridians flowing smoothly without any abnormality.

He couldn't help but wonder why, if Yan Xiaomei didn't have any special constitution, he was always able to achieve twice the results with half the effort when he practiced his skills with her in the kitchen before.

What exactly is the reason behind this?

"Senior brother!"

Yan Xiaomei suddenly looked up, her almond-shaped eyes meeting his, and asked softly, "You...you're going to take up your post in the river management department today?"

"Um!"

Chen Feng nodded in response, his tone gentle yet firm: "We'll set off after we finish eating! But we must first register with the Public Works Bureau before heading to the docks to take up our posts!"

The words "Public Works Bureau" caught my ear.

A fleeting, almost imperceptible look of worry crossed Yan Xiaomei's face. Her delicate brows furrowed slightly, and a deep sense of gravity was hidden in her eyes.

Seeing this, Chen Feng felt a warmth in his heart and reassured him gently yet firmly, "Don't worry, with Sixth Senior Brother by my side, I'll be careful in everything. Nothing will happen!"

Yan Xiaomei breathed a slight sigh of relief and nodded lightly, but she still couldn't hide the unease between her brows.

Everyone took in this scene, their eyes tightening slightly – everyone knew that the Public Works Bureau and the river wharf were a den of dragons and tigers!

The air seemed to freeze at that moment, filled with a heavy sense of oppression.

Just then.

"Ninth Junior Brother!"

A plump figure carrying a rice bowl squeezed through the crowd; it was none other than Sixth Brother Mancang.

He was dressed in a well-fitting Western cowboy outfit, his short, stocky figure exuding a certain江湖 (jianghu, a term referring to the world of martial arts and chivalry) aura, and a hearty smile on his face: "Junior brother, Master has already told me that I will accompany you this afternoon. If you have any questions on the way, feel free to ask me!"

In his early years, Brother Mancang traveled all over the country, making a living by performing street tricks. He had mastered the art of shrinking his body to hide objects and concealing his form.

He spent many years doing business abroad, and had extensive connections in all directions. He was very familiar with the docks, Chinese-controlled areas, and foreign concessions.

Although his cultivation level has been stuck at the early stage of Ming Jin for many years, Chen Feng could still sense a sharp edge hidden beneath Senior Brother Liu's gentle demeanor when he glanced at him.

The most surprising thing was that the other party's loose denim jacket was flat and smooth, with no bulges on the shoulders, back, waist, abdomen, or cuffs, and no trace of a hidden gun could be found anywhere.

Only the other person's right index finger, which was holding chopsticks, had a thick, hard callus that was particularly noticeable—a mark left from years of pulling the trigger and repeatedly disassembling and assembling gun bolts.

But there was no way to tell where the gun was hidden!

In his previous life, Chen Feng was obsessed with firearms, but he could only watch videos to satisfy his craving.

At this moment, he secretly made up his mind that he must find an opportunity to ask his sixth senior brother to find him a gun for protection.

In the afternoon.

The sky was darkened by thick clouds, and a cold wind swept through the dust on Fangua Lane.

"Sixth Senior Brother! I'm all better!"

Chen Feng got ready to leave.

Before leaving.

Yan Tieqiao gazed at him, his eyes as deep as an ancient well, and offered only a profound admonition: "As the Buddha said: If I don't go to hell, who will?"

Er Gou not only has a keen nose and sharp ears—he immediately clung to them, insisting on going with them and never leaving their side.

along the way.

Chen Feng, Sixth Senior Brother, and Er Gou chatted and laughed.

But in Chen Feng's heart, his master's words, "If I don't go to hell, who will?" kept lingering. The more he thought about it, the heavier his heart became!

Just then.

"Sixth Senior Brother, tell me about this Municipal Council!"

Er Gou suddenly raised his voice to his sixth senior brother, asking about the inside story of the Municipal Council, and also took the opportunity to ask the question that had been bothering him: "And where exactly did you hide this gun? I've looked for ages, sniffed around for ages, but I haven't found a single trace!"

Chen Feng snapped out of his reverie and chimed in, "Yes, Sixth Senior Brother, I'm also very curious about this!"

Upon hearing this, Man Cang's eyes flashed with the cunning of a江湖人 (jianghu person, a person of the martial arts world), and he lowered his voice and chuckled, "My two junior brothers, you don't understand! In Shanghai, foreigners control guns more than their own lives. If an ordinary person is found to be possessing firearms by the police, they'll be shot on the spot without a word! I used to be a juggler, and I've developed a unique skill of concealing objects by shrinking my body, which is why I can hide the gun so well on my body without giving it away!"

He paused, then solemnly warned, "Remember, in Shanghai, knowing how to conceal a gun is what truly makes you a gun expert!"

He finished speaking.

Mancang abruptly changed the subject, his expression instantly turning serious.

"The power of the Municipal Council is entirely in the hands of the Board of Directors!"

"Although 80% of the tax revenue in the concession came from the Chinese, of the ten seats on the board of directors, British trading companies held five, American conglomerates held three, the Jewish Sassoon Group held two, while the Chinese held none, having absolutely no say!"

The voice just fell.

"vomit----!!"

Suddenly, Er Gou stopped in his tracks, his face turned deathly pale, he covered his mouth and nose with both hands, and made a suppressed gagging sound. His stomach was churning, and he almost vomited on the spot.

Upon seeing this, Chen Feng's brows furrowed suddenly, and a chilling sense of foreboding instantly welled up in his heart.