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

"The Municipal Council!"

Chen Feng looked up and saw that a hundred meters away, the Municipal Council building stood coldly under the dark clouds like a lurking beast.

It was a typical European classical building, constructed entirely of a single block of dark gray granite. The stone surface was rough and hard, blackened by years of wind and rain, with indelible dirt and dark brown marks embedded in the crevices, resembling long-congealed bloodstains.

The building is five stories high, with cold, straight lines and no carvings or decorations. Huge stones are stacked layer upon layer, and a heavy sense of oppression is overwhelming, like a stone prison pressing down on the heads of the Chinese.

The building was devoid of warmth; under the overcast sky, the walls exuded a bone-chilling cold. The wind howled through the narrow window cracks, and upon closer listening, it sounded like the suppressed, miserable wails of countless people seeping from every crevice in the walls, clinging to one's ears and refusing to leave.

The tall, dark windows resembled tightly closed eye sockets, obscuring the view inside but giving the impression of countless cold gazes fixed intently on passersby from the darkness.

The entire building was devoid of greenery and life—the cold hardness of the granite, the deathly stillness of the brass components, and the mournful howl in the wind all blended together. Even standing a hundred meters away, one could feel a chilling, decaying aura that seeped into the bones through the soles of one's shoes.

The two large brass doors in the center are nearly three meters high. The doors are thick and cold, and the copper surface has been worn dull and dark by the years, giving off a lifeless metallic luster. The door knockers are mottled with rust. From a distance, they look like the gates of hell that separate life and death at the entrance to the underworld.

Chen Feng reached out and gently patted Er Gou's shoulder, his voice extremely low: "Why don't you go back first?"

Er Gou's face was deathly pale, but he gritted his teeth and shook his head fiercely, his tone resolute to the point of obstinacy: "I swear to stand with Ninth Senior Brother through thick and thin!"

The sixth senior brother stepped forward and negotiated with the gatekeeper for a moment, then slipped him two silver dollars to complete the entry procedures. The three of them then stepped into the gate of the Municipal Council.

Beneath my feet was a cold, smooth marble floor. The sound of my footsteps was amplified infinitely in the empty atrium, echoing hollowly and making my heart clench.

The sixth senior brother pointed to a Baroque domed building in the central courtyard: "That's the General Affairs Office reception area; job registration is done there!"

He lowered his voice and added, "I paid a small bribe, and the gatekeeper said that today is the sixteenth day of the Lunar New Year, and apart from a few staff members remaining on duty, most officials haven't returned to work yet!"

That's all.

The three of them quickly walked into the registration hall.

The giant Roman columns stretch from the ground to the top, their shafts carved with cold European patterns, yet shrouded in a thick layer of gray mist, giving them a lifeless appearance.

The hall is nearly ten meters high, and the circular dome is inlaid with dirty stained glass. When light shines through, it turns into mottled and eerie patches of color, which fall on the ground like patches of undried blood.

Such a tall space does not feel spacious at all; instead, it is like an overturned, enormous stone coffin, trapping people inside and making it hard to breathe.

The air was filled with the smells of mold and dust, and a faint, indescribable, sweet and rotten stench. With each breath, it felt as if a boulder was pressing down on my chest, making me feel suffocated.

The receptionists at the front desk looked ashen-faced, like walking corpses.

A man, head down, was filling out the registration book. Without looking up, he coldly said, "The river chief went down to the riverbank for a drink today. After you finish your paperwork here, you can find him at the Waibaidu Bridge!"

In just a short while, Chen Feng successfully completed the registration procedures.

But as soon as the three of them stepped out of the hall, a sinister whisper came from behind them.

"Is this the recently famous 'Iron-Headed Chen'?"

"Let's wait until he takes office and gets past that smiling tiger first!"

"Hmph, forget about Smiling Tiger, those old foxes down the river are enough to give him a run for his money!"

Chen Feng did not stop, a cold glint flashing in his eyes, and followed his sixth senior brother straight to the east wing of the Municipal Council building.

The entire corridor was deserted, as quiet as an abandoned haunted house, and even the sound of breathing seemed particularly jarring.

Before long, the three arrived at the confidential archives of the Finance and Taxation Department.

Inside the warehouse sat an elderly accountant wearing reading glasses.

The man took the registration slip expressionlessly and with a blank look in his eyes, then pulled an abacus from under the counter without saying a word.

The abacus was entirely grayish-white, with an extremely strange texture.

Chen Feng glanced at it and his heart skipped a beat—the abacus beads were actually carefully polished from the little finger bone!

"Crackling and popping—"

The accountant's fingers flew across the bone beads, typing out a string of numbers. Then, she pulled a thick ledger from the drawer, dabbing at her own saliva as she turned the pages one by one.

Chen Feng could see clearly that the cover and inner pages of the ledger were not paper at all, but were made of a stack of leather, exuding a nauseating coldness and fishy smell.

Upon turning to a blank page, the accountant picked up her pen and wrote down a row of numbers, then uttered two ominously, "Pay up!"

The sixth senior brother immediately paid the registration fee according to the amount. The whole process was deathly silent, and the atmosphere was extremely eerie.

Having taken care of everything, the three turned and left, walking to the third-floor corridor.

"Yes!"

The sixth senior brother suddenly turned to the side, pointed to the west, and whispered in a voice so low that only the three of them could hear: "That's the police station over there, with three levels!"

"At the top level is the Western Police Unit, all white officers, equipped with revolvers, nerve agent gas trucks, and stun batons—they're all ruthless!"

"The second layer consists of the Vietnamese police force, also known as the Annamite police. They carry batons made of snake vines, wear caltrop boots, and carry oil lamps. These brutal monkeys are all Annamite nobles!"

"At the very bottom are the Chinese police force, equipped with poisoned nine-section whips, white phosphorus lime packets, and blood-curdled whistles. They act as accomplices to the wicked; these peasants are even more ruthless than the foreigners!"

He leaned closer to Chen Feng's ear, his tone turning serious: "Huang Jinrong is the head of the Chinese police force!"

The sixth senior brother looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then lowered his voice even further: "From 1900 to 1925, for twenty-five years, Huang Jinrong, using his position as chief detective, secretly controlled all kinds of illicit businesses, including human experimentation, drug and weapon development, the organ black market, opium monopoly, casinos, brothels, and dock smuggling!"

"He nominally retired in 1925, but in reality, he moved behind the scenes, wielding absolute power!"

As they spoke, the three of them had already reached the balcony of the stairwell.

The view from here is expansive, offering a clear view of the entire layout of the Municipal Council.

The sixth senior brother gestured with his eyes to the north courtyard in the distance and continued to introduce it in a low voice.

"That's the North Bunker, where the Municipal Council's First Armed Force—the International Merchant Corps—is stationed!"

"Nominally a militia organization, but in reality a lawless massacre force sponsored by Western, European, and Japanese capital!"

"Internally, it was divided into four factions: the first tier was a combined British and American force, the second was a mix of German and Japanese, the third was the private army of Jewish financial magnates, and at the very bottom were White Russian outlaws, each one a ruthless butcher!"

Before he could finish speaking, a deafening roar suddenly erupted.

Several tanks slowly drove across the bunker's parade ground, their tracks rolling over the cold asphalt with a dull thud, their metal shells gleaming menacingly under the dark clouds.

"That's... an ice-jet tank!"

Er Gou was the first to fall silent, his whole body trembling uncontrollably. His eyes were bloodshot and bulging with hatred that seemed about to burst from his body: "Those bastards! Last winter in Hongkou, they used liquid nitrogen to clean the streets, freezing three thousand refugees from northern Jiangsu to death! I barely managed to survive by hiding in a ditch!"

Sixth Senior Brother quickly grabbed Second Dog's arm, signaling him to control his emotions. Then he nodded heavily to Chen Feng: "Back then, the Municipal Council lied in the newspapers, claiming it was extreme weather. Three thousand compatriots died unjustly, and there was no justice!"

Chen Feng looked at the grief-stricken Er Gou, and a large, strong hand landed steadily on his shoulder, its strength as firm as a mountain.

He said nothing, but the chilling coldness and murderous intent surging in his eyes spoke volumes!

Er Gou instantly calmed down—he knew that his Ninth Senior Brother would definitely avenge all the wronged souls who died unjustly!

Seeing this, the sixth senior brother, fearing that Chen Feng might act impulsively, immediately stepped forward and whispered a warning: "Ninth junior brother, you must not be reckless!"

He took a deep breath, his voice so heavy it almost seemed to fall to the ground: "Your master exhausted all the connections he had built up throughout his life, even emptying his entire fortune, to get you this position. You mustn't act impulsively!"