Chinese martial arts: From being shot and killed by the armed police during a mountain search to bec

The spy's voice trembled slightly as he said this: "I realized right away that since my superior had betrayed us, Ciyun Nunnery must be a trap, waiting for you, Master Chen, to walk right into it."

As he spoke, he gestured with his hands: "These past few days I've disguised myself as a beggar, hiding from the Guangxi clique's search while trying to find out where you are. I went to the Yuelai Inn, and they said you haven't been back for the past few days."

I went to the martial arts schools at the dock again, searching one by one. Afraid of being watched by the Guangxi clique, I only dared to peek at them from the entrance before leaving.

Chen Hongwu did not respond.

"It's a good thing you didn't go to Ciyun Temple, Master Chen, you're really lucky."

"If I had gone, the next time I saw you today, you'd probably be a corpse hanging on the city wall." The spy shook his head, looking relieved.

After listening, Chen Hongwu didn't explain anything, but simply asked, "What's your name?"

The spy was taken aback, then clasped his hands in greeting and said, "My name is Yin Qiang."

"What are your plans for the future?"

Yin Qiang paused for a moment, then sighed, "What plans do we have? We've passed on all the information we needed to, and we've lost all the people we needed to contact. Right now, we're just grateful to be alive. We'll see if we can get out of the city once things calm down, head south, and rendezvous with the troops."

Chen Hongwu nodded, took out a few silver dollars from his waist, and placed them on the brick edge next to him: "Find a place to wash your face and change your clothes."

The spy's eyes reddened again as he looked at the few silver dollars on the edge of the brick.

"Mr. Chen, I..."

"There's no need to head south out of the city. Let's wait for the main force in Guangzhou."

After saying that, Chen Hongwu strode away.

Yin Qiang watched the other person's figure disappear around the corner, a puzzled look on his face. He muttered to himself, "Waiting for the main force to arrive... what does that mean?"

-

There are two trains daily from Guangzhou to Foshan. The train departs at 9:40 AM, taking the Guangzhou-Sanshui Railway Line, and arrives in two hours.

Chen Hongwu bought the earliest train ticket, a third-class ticket.

During the Republic of China era, train tickets did not have seat numbers printed on them. The tickets only showed the departure station, destination station, fare, and carriage class. Seats were entirely available by chance.

At the station entrance stood a wooden board about half a person's height with a notice posted on it that read, "Third-class tickets to Foshan, fare two cents." The words were written with a brush, and the ink had been soaked by the rain and blurred into a blotchy mess.

The ticket gate was located at the platform entrance, with two station staff members in blue uniforms standing on either side of the wooden fence, holding hole punchers.

When it was time to check tickets, the barriers opened, and the waiting crowd surged forward in a chaotic mess, with pushing, shoving, shouting, children crying, and adults yelling.

"Get the hell out of the way, you bastard!"

"Get lost, you old hag! You stepped on my foot!"

Chen Hongwu stood at the back of the crowd and waited until the people in front had swarmed out before stepping forward.

When walking, the pace is neither too fast nor too slow, the toes naturally grip the ground when the soles of the feet land, and the center of gravity is always pressed below the dantian, taking each step steadily and gracefully.

There is a saying in Xingyiquan, "Walk like a locust worm," which means that when walking, the spine should move segment by segment like a worm on a locust tree, with the force pushing from the coccyx to the cervical spine segment by segment, so that you walk steadily without swaying or shaking, as if you were wading through mud.

Walking, sitting, and lying down are all forms of practice.

After passing through the ticket gate, the platform became even more chaotic.

The third-class carriage was at the back of the train. When Chen Hongwu walked to the carriage door, there were already seven or eight people blocking the entrance, pushing and shoving each other to squeeze on.

A middle-aged man in a gray cloth shirt was jostled and lost his footing, half of his body hanging outside the train door and swaying back and forth. The bundle in his hand fell onto the tracks, but he didn't bother to pick it up.

Chen Hongwu squeezed through the gaps in the crowd and got into the car.

The carriage reeked of sweat and coal smoke, and the two rows of wooden luggage racks overhead were crammed with sacks and bamboo baskets.

The seating consisted of long wooden benches, arranged in two rows facing each other, with a narrow table in the middle. The tabletop was covered in black burns from cigarette butts.

The window seats were all taken, and the aisle was piled with luggage and chicken coops. Two women wearing blue headscarves squeezed onto a chair with a bamboo basket on their laps containing live ducks that quacked incessantly.

Chen Hongwu glanced around the carriage and his gaze fell on a window seat in the middle section.

A young man in a silk shirt and round-framed glasses sat in that spot, with a leather suitcase beside him. He looked like someone who had some education.

The seat opposite the young man was empty, but three people were crammed together next to it, and no one was willing to sit there. The reason was that a man with a burly face was leaning against the empty seat.

The man was in his thirties, wearing a traditional Chinese jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his forearms with bulging veins.

A scar ran from his brow bone to his jawline on his face. After the skin and flesh were torn open and healed, a red mark resembling a centipede was left.

He occupied two seats by himself, with one leg propped up on the opposite chair, his cloth shoes resting on the chair surface, leaving a muddy imprint on the wooden board.

There was a bulge at his waist, which his cloth jacket couldn't hide, and you could vaguely tell it was a gun.

Chen Hongwu walked over and asked, "Hello, is anyone here?"

The man with the muscular face raised his eyelids and sized him up. Chen Hongwu had changed into a dark blue coarse cloth short jacket and cloth shoes. He looked like an ordinary commoner, nothing special.

"snort!"

The man snorted, pulled one leg back from the opposite chair while keeping the other leg crossed, and moved his buttocks half an inch toward the window, essentially giving up most of the seat.

Chen Hongwu sat down, his toes digging into the ground, his knees slightly bent, and his back not against the chair back.

Sit upright like a bell, with each vertebra aligned vertically, tailbone tucked in, chest slightly concave and back straight, and the Baihui acupoint on the top of the head aligned with the Huiyin acupoint, as if the whole person is firmly anchored in the chair like a nail.

The stance of Xingyiquan (a style of Chinese martial arts) is stable once you sit in it; no matter how much the train shakes, your upper body won't move an inch.

The train gave a long whistle and started moving with a clanging sound.

"Clang! Clang!"

Smoke drifted in through the windows, mingling with the clatter of wheels rolling over the rail joints. The people in the carriage swayed back and forth with the movement of the train, while the ducks in the chicken coop quacked even louder.

After about fifteen minutes, a man in a blue uniform entered the carriage, holding a hole puncher in his hand. The words "Guangzhou-Sanming Railway Ticket Inspection" were engraved on the brass badge on his chest.

The ticket inspector checked tickets one by one from the front of the train, punching holes in them. If someone didn't have a ticket, they either had to buy one or get off the train.

When he reached the middle section, he stopped next to Chen Hongwu, took the ticket from Chen Hongwu, and punched two holes in the edge of the ticket with pliers.

He returned the money with both hands, saying, "Please have a seat."

Then he turned to the man sitting next to him, whose face was full of scars.

"Sir, could you please check my ticket?"

The man, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, glanced at the ticket inspector but didn't move.

The ticket inspector waited a moment and then repeated, "Sir, please show me your ticket."

The man slowly exhaled a puff of smoke, his right hand leisurely reaching to his waist to draw his pistol. He flicked the barrel upwards, the dark muzzle pointing directly at the ticket inspector's nose.

"This is my ticket, do you want to verify it?"