History Park: Starting with the Imjin War

Chapter 14 Erecting the Gun

"Um?"

At first, he was stunned, but after regaining his senses, Mo Qin quickly nodded.

At this moment, Zhao's voice was particularly deep and powerful.

"In the army, there are no incense tables or fancy formalities. A bowl of water and a rifle are enough."

"If you kowtow, I'll teach you."

"From now on, whether you get beaten, suffer, or follow the rules, it's all up to me."

"If you betray your master and sell out your school after you have completed your studies, I will personally beat you to death."

After saying that, he turned around, went to the wooden post next to him, picked up a bowl of water, and placed it on the ground.

Then he turned the big spear sideways and laid it flat.

"kneel."

Without the slightest hesitation, Mo Qin lifted his robe and knelt down.

He first kowtowed to the bowl of water.

He then kowtowed to the spear.

Finally, he bowed deeply to Zhao, making a third, heavy kowtow.

"Disciple Mo Qin greets Master."

Upon hearing this, Zhao's eyelids twitched slightly.

He's tried with too many people in his life, but none of them truly became his disciples.

Today, we finally have our first one.

Although his heart was in turmoil, he remained serious and unsmiling.

"stand up."

Mo Qin hurriedly stood up and stood in the military training standard.

Without saying a word, Zhao Tou reached out and touched it.

Touch the shoulder first.

Then touch his back.

The palm pressed down along the spine, down to the waist and hips, then pinched the upper arm, forearm, wrist bone, and metacarpal bone. Finally, the person squatted down and pressed the knees and heels.

As soon as he touched her, Zhao Tou's eyes slowly changed.

The shoulder blades are wide open.

Back adjustment.

Keep your back straight.

Hip depth.

Long legs.

Touching further down, the bones were frighteningly heavy, but the tendons were not dead, and the joints seemed to be growing in the right places.

It's not just about being big.

They were born for this.

Finally, Zhao Tou's hand stopped on his waist and hips, and remained motionless for a long time.

"You little brat..."

"They don't look human at all."

Mo Qin remained obedient, standing with his hands pressed against the seams of his trousers.

"Master, is that a compliment?"

Zhao Tou actually laughed.

"Calculate."

His smile vanished, his face hardened, he gripped his gun, and took a half-step back.

"Remember, when practicing shooting, don't practice fancy techniques first, practice the basic structure first."

"If the framework isn't solid, all moves are useless."

As soon as he finished speaking, he stood up.

Stand with your feet apart, toes gripping the ground, knees slightly bent, groin tucked in, hips sinking, waist and spine rising, while shoulders relax and sink down.

Push your whole body downwards, and you'll be stable in no time.

"Watch closely."

"Head upright, shoulders relaxed, elbows drooping, hips tucked in, and tailbone centered. It's not about standing still, but about bringing all your bones together."

"The three external harmonies are: shoulders and hips, elbows and knees, and hands and feet."

"The three inner harmonies are: the mind and intention harmonize, intention and qi harmonize, and qi and strength harmonize."

"Only when the inside and outside are in harmony can the gun truly come alive."

He said something, and Mochin did exactly that.

At first, my shoulders didn't sink down.

Without saying a word, Zhao Tou slapped him on the shoulder.

"Sinks!"

My waist is starting to sag.

Zhao Tou practiced his pole strike again, hitting him hard in the lower back.

"Stop!"

His knees moved outwards by half an inch.

Zhao kicked him in the back of the knee.

"Put it back!"

They continued firing shot by shot, proofreading line by line, showing no mercy whatsoever.

Mochin, however, remained steadfast.

These ten bowls of meat rice weren't for nothing; I have plenty of energy.

With each strike, he adjusted the position by one inch.

He would remember every single insult he received.

After a short while, Zhao Tou stopped cursing.

Because Mochin's demeanor is gradually taking shape.

When others stand here, their legs start to shake, their shoulders start to ache, and their backs start to slump.

He didn't, only broke out in a light sweat.

Sweat poured down his face, but he stood up straighter and straighter.

Zhao Tou raised his eyebrows, picked up the white wax spear, and held it horizontally in front of him.

"Give me the gun."

Mochin caught the gun with both hands.

The moment I touched it, my wrist felt heavy.

It wasn't that the gun was too heavy, but rather that it was too long.

The spear, over ten feet long, was entirely focused on its furthest point.

When the shaft is held horizontally, the spearhead naturally moves downwards; if the base is not firmly established, the wrist will break first.

As if he hadn't seen Zhao's portrait, he shouted:

"Hold on tight."

"The first hand leads the way, the second hand urges on the finish. The spear isn't swung, it's delivered."

"Her heels gripped the ground, her hips snapped together, her waist surged, and her back thrust forward, and the force reached the tip of the spear."

"Come on, stab."

Mochin fired the first shot.

Zhao Tou slapped the pole open.

"That's too dead."

The second shot, my foot didn't follow.

"It's empty."

The third shot was fired from the shoulder.

"It's over."

Facing his mentor, Mo Qin remained silent, only repeatedly drawing his gun, sheathing it, drawing it again, and sheathing it again.

He took a half step, pushed forward with his waist, and sent the gun flying.

At first, it was just the form.

Later, Mochin suddenly grasped something different.

It wasn't a hand that was stabbing.

It wasn't the arm that was swinging.

Instead, the feet grip the ground, the knees move forward, the hips close together, and the waist and back thrust forward.

That force actually traveled along the shoulder, elbow, and wrist all the way to the tip of the spear.

Snapped.

A soft popping sound echoed in the air.

The sound was very quiet, probably no more than 30 decibels.

But it really exists.

Zhao Tou's eyes flickered.

"Stab it again."

Mo Qin put away the gun and sent it again.

Another shot rang out.

Zhao Tou's calm expression finally crumbled.

I've taught so many people, and even the fastest one to grasp this technique takes at least half a month.

The guy in front of me, from setting up the gun to feeling the tension inside, took less than two hours at most.

"stop."

Mo Qin put away his gun, panting heavily. His wrists were burning, and the area between his thumb and forefinger was red from the friction.

Zhao Tou stared at him for a long time.

"You've really never practiced before?"

"no."

Zhao Tou didn't ask any more questions. He simply took the gun, flicked his wrist, and the tip of the gun immediately drew a tiny circle.

Looking at its circle, it is perfectly round and tight, yet it also has a slight tremor within that tightness.

"This is called the gun community."

"The circle is the mother, and the knot is the child. The circle hides the obstruction, and the circle hides the capture. Only when the circle is opened can the subsequent move be effective."

"Twisting the gun ring doesn't rely on arm strength, but on wrist strength, and it requires twisting the waist and hips together."

"Come."

Mo Qin twisted it as instructed.

The first circle is crooked.

Zhao Tou struck his wrist with a stick.

"The wrist is too dead!"

The second circle is too big.

"Didn't you see what I was doing? Disperse!"

The third lap: hands fast, waist slow.

"It's broken!"

Another round of smoking and rework.

What follows is a repetition, a constant process of drawing and revising.

After sixty or seventy strokes, Mo Qin loosened his grip on his wrist.

A sudden realization.

The tip of the gun drew a circle the size of a fist in his hand.

Zhao Tou saw this and urged them on again.

"Again."

Mochin twisted it again.

It's still that same circle.

"Again."

The third.

the fourth.

the fifth.

Five in a row, all of them were completed.

Zhao Tou stopped Mo Qin, put down his pole vaulting, and pondered for a moment.

He then turned around, took out three pebbles from his waist, and tucked them into his hand.

"The gun is in my right hand."

"Stone is an unconventional approach."

"But when it really comes down to it, even a stone on the ground can kill someone."

He had barely finished speaking when he flicked his wrist.

Snapped!

The first stone hit the wooden stake three zhang away.

Then another flick.

Snapped!

The second nail broke off the old nail head on the stake.

The third one was even more ruthless, knocking down the broken wooden spoon hanging on the side.

Mo Qin's eyelids twitched.

"This technique is called 'Flying Stone'."

"Index finger, middle finger, thumb hooked together, wrist strike, waist belt. Eyes first, hands follow. First aim for accuracy, then aim for rapid fire."

After he finished speaking, he tossed the pebble to Mochin.

"try."

Mochin caught it and threw it.

The first one was off by half a foot.

"The eye wasn't bitten."

The second shot hit the target, but the accuracy was a bit off.

"My hands were too fast, but my waist didn't keep up."

The third one hit the edge of the stake with a snap.

Zhao Tou stared at the pebble, remaining silent for a long time.

Finally, he only slowly uttered one sentence:

"OK."

Looking at Mo Qin, who was slightly out of breath, Zhao Tou's regret from his early years was finally made up for.