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

The bearded man slung his machine gun over his shoulder and roared in a deep, hoarse voice, "Listen up, all of you! Hand over all your money, silver dollars, gold rings, jade bracelets—anything valuable! Hide even one, or the bullets won't have eyes!"

After he finished speaking, he gestured with his chin, and the tall, thin robber closest to the front of the car began searching from the first row of seats.

The man had a long, donkey-like face, and his eyes darted around rapidly. He held a gun in one hand, and stretched out the other, fingers spread, palm facing up, with his fingers hooked inward: "Hurry up! Don't dawdle!"

The man sitting in the first row was an old man in a gray cloth long gown, as thin as a stick.

He shakily pulled a blue cloth bag from his pocket, opened it layer by layer, and inside were a few crumpled banknotes and a handful of copper coins.

The tall, thin man snatched it, weighed it in his hand, and cursed, "Is that all? Who are you trying to fool?"

He reached out and slapped the old man on the forehead. "Any more?"

The old man waved his hands frantically, his voice broken: "No more, no more, this is all the money I have for the journey..." The tall, thin man yanked the old man off his seat and shoved him to the ground. "Get out of here!"

The old man fell in the aisle, his blue cloth bag fell to the ground, and copper coins rolled all over the floor.

No one dared to go forward and pick it up.

The tall, thin man continued searching the back of the table. Before he could speak, the middle-aged woman in the second seat took off her silver bracelet and earrings and placed them on the table, keeping her head down and avoiding eye contact.

The robber picked it up, stuffed it into his pocket, said nothing, and moved on to the next person.

Some people disagreed.

A young man in his early twenties sat by the window in the fourth row, wearing a faded blue school uniform with two pens tucked into his breast pocket.

A girl of about sixteen or seventeen years old sat next to him, with two braids, her face pale with fright.

When the robber held the gun to his face, the young man stood up abruptly and shielded the girl behind him.

"Have you no regard for the law? This is the Republic of China, not a den of bandits!"

He puffed out his chest and the veins on his neck bulged when he spoke.

The bearded man turned his head and glanced at him.

"The law?"

The bearded man unloaded the machine gun from his shoulder, walked up to the young man, and sized him up. "You're talking to me about the law?"

The young man tilted his head back, gritted his teeth, and clenched his fists until they turned white.

Before he could utter a second word, the bearded man had already pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

He had a bloody hole in his forehead.

The young man fell backward onto the seat, splattering blood all over the face of the girl next to him.

The girl froze for a full three seconds, then let out a scream, collapsed to the ground, and fainted.

Blood flowed from the young man's forehead, down the chair, and onto the floor, forming a small, dark red puddle.

The temperature inside the carriage dropped a few degrees.

People started taking things out of their pockets—banknotes, silver dollars, watches, rings—and stacking them on the table, waiting for the robbers to collect them.

No one dared to raise their head, no one dared to utter a sound. Everyone understood the principle of "better to lose money than suffer further disaster."

When they reached the eighth row, the robbers encountered a tough opponent.

The man was a burly man in his thirties, with a square face, thick eyebrows, wearing a black cloth short jacket, and a bulging waist.

When the tall, thin man stretched out his hand in front of him, he suddenly pulled a revolver from his waist, pointed the muzzle directly at the tall, thin man's face, and pulled the trigger.

But his finger hadn't had time to pull the trigger all the way down.

The bearded man was half a step faster than him. Almost at the same time the burly man drew his gun, the bearded man had already turned the machine gun in his hand, swinging the butt of the gun from the outside in, and lashing the burly man's wrist like a whip.

The shot was both accurate and ruthless; the butt of the rifle struck the wrist bone with a crisp sound, like dry firewood being snapped underfoot.

The burly man's wrist broke on the spot, and the revolver flew out of his hand, spinning twice on the ground.

He grunted, and before he could react, the bearded man had already lunged forward, the muzzle of his machine gun pressed against his chin.

"So what if you have a gun?"

"Bang!"

The burly man slid off the seat, a bloody hole appearing on his chin. The back of his head hit the back of the chair, and he stared blankly, motionless.

The bearded man spat on the ground, slung his machine gun over his shoulder, and shouted into the carriage, "Anyone else want to try? I'll send them on their way too!"

No one dared to utter a sound; even those who had instinctively reached for their waists quietly withdrew their hands.

The bearded man was a trained fighter. When he slammed his wrist with the butt of his gun, his waist and hips twisted half an inch as he exerted force, lowering his center of gravity and transmitting power from the soles of his feet. The force of the strike was crisp and short, and the release and retraction happened in the blink of an eye.

It took at least three to five years of hard work to figure out how to apply the force.

The robbers continued looting, moving towards the back of the row.

The suitcase was pulled off the luggage rack, thrown to the ground, and stomped on; the pockets were turned inside out; the woman's cries mingled with the robbers' curses.

The tall, thin man found a window seat in the middle of the carriage and stood in front of Chen Hongwu.

The tall, thin man stretched out his hand in front of him, fingers spread, and beckoned inwards: "Hey! Are you deaf?"

Chen Hongwu opened his eyes and glanced at him indifferently.

His gaze calmly swept over the other robbers, silently estimating their positions and distances.

He wasn't a reckless brute; if he had intervened earlier, he could have prevented several casualties.

However, failing to eliminate the robbers in one go will lead to even more serious consequences for the passengers in this train carriage.

Especially with the machine guns in the hands of those robbers, if they were to fire, the casualties wouldn't just be a few people, but almost entire groups of them.

All the surrounding passengers turned to look; they had clearly witnessed Chen Hongwu snatching the gun and throwing the man. A burly man weighing 150 or 160 pounds had his gun taken away by him with just three fingers, and then he threw him out of the car window with both hands.

This guy is definitely a trained fighter, and quite skilled at it. Now that the robbers have come after him, will he give in easily?

Seeing that Chen Hongwu didn't move, the tall, thin man grew impatient, slamming the muzzle of his gun on the table twice, making a dull thud: "I'm talking to you! Hand over the money!"

The bearded man, growing impatient, turned around, strode over, shoved the tall, thin man aside, and muttered, "You're so slow even when searching someone, are you just looking for a freeloader?"

He stood in front of Chen Hongwu, took the machine gun off his shoulder, and thrust the barrel straight at Chen Hongwu's forehead.

The gun barrel was less than three inches from Chen Hongwu's forehead.

Just then, Chen Hongwu suddenly stood up.

It exploded directly from the "sitting like a bell" posture, with the knees pushing upwards, the toes gripping the ground sharply, and the force bursting out from the Yongquan acupoint, pushing upwards segment by segment along the calf, thigh, waist, hips, and spine.

Starting from the coccyx at the end of the spine, the whole person sprang up like a dragon whose tail had been stepped on.

Xingyiquan: Dragon Form Rising and Falling!