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

Chen Huaijin sighed.

"The Green Gang assassin you killed was quite a senior member of the Green Gang." He sat back in his chair, tapping his fingers unconsciously on the table twice. "The day after you left, the Green Gang came knocking on our door."

Chen Hongwu frowned slightly, clearly not expecting the Foshan branch of the Green Gang to be so shameless as to dare to cause trouble at their doorstep.

"More than twenty people came, each with a weapon on their waist. The leader was a man of the Tong generation who claimed to be surnamed Zhao. He immediately demanded that the Chen family hand over people."

Back then, with just a few guns from the Chen family, if a real fight broke out, we would definitely be the ones who suffer.

It was Master Ip Man who arrived just in time, and Master Chan Sing of Hung Shing Mart also brought more than a dozen disciples. Although Master Wong Fei-hung did not come in person, he sent his second son, Wong Hon-sang, with people from Po Chi Lam to help.

They faced off against the Green Gang members in the hall for over two hours before a fight was averted.

Chen Hongwu listened without changing his expression.

It's not surprising at all that these people stepped in to mediate.

In the world of martial arts, favors are debts that must be repaid one by one.

"The Green Gang won't give up," Chen Huaijin continued. "But the local martial arts schools in Foshan don't want to offend them too much, after all, the Green Gang has considerable influence outside. However, they are also mindful of your relationship, so these past few days they have had people helping with guards and patrols to prevent the Green Gang from doing anything underhanded."

After listening, Chen Hongwu nodded.

"Understood, let these craftsmen disperse."

"Now that I'm back, if the Green Gang wants to cause trouble, let them come to me." Chen Hongwu's tone was very calm.

Chen Huaijin glanced at him but didn't refute him. He knew his son's temperament; he was a man of his word.

He nodded and patted Chen Hongwen on the shoulder: "You stay here and talk to your older brother."

He took a step to leave.

"Father," Chen Hongwu called out to him, "Just let Hongwen go, I have something to tell you."

Chen Huaijin paused, turned around, and his gaze lingered on Chen Hongwu's face for a moment.

He didn't ask what it was about, but simply told Chen Hongwen, "Go to the accounting office and get some money, give each person five silver dollars."

"It's their right not to come, but it's a courtesy if they do. Our Chen family can't be impolite."

"Also, book two tables at Zuixianlou Restaurant. I'll treat all the chefs to a good meal tomorrow night. Invite Chef Ye, Chef Li, and Young Master Huang. Don't try to save me money; not a penny should be spared."

Chen Hongwen responded and strode out of the main hall.

Only the father and son remained in the hall.

Chen Huaijin turned around and looked at Chen Hongwu: "What is it?"

Chen Hongwu didn't beat around the bush: "Father, can you contact people in the Guangdong Army?"

Chen Huaijin's brow twitched slightly: "The Guangdong Army? What's the matter?"

Chen Hongwu smiled, picked up the teacup on the table, and took a sip. The tea had gone cold and had a bitter taste.

"Give them a tremendous opportunity."

"Okay." Chen Huaijin didn't ask any more questions. "I'll contact them for you."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The next day, early in the morning.

As soon as the city gates of Guangzhou opened, the cries of newsboys echoed from the depths of the streets and alleys.

"Extra number! Extra number!"

The newsboy, drenched in sweat, ran with his canvas bag stuffed full of newspapers, waving them as he ran and shouting at the top of his lungs:

"Commander-in-Chief Mo assassinated! Extra! Extra!"

"The Guangxi clique is leaderless! The Guangdong army announces a counterattack on Guangzhou!"

"Extra number! Extra number—!"

This shout was like a stone thrown into a pond, instantly creating ripples.

The pedestrians on the street were stunned at first, and then they swarmed around them.

Someone snatched the newspaper from the newsboy, flipped it open, and saw a line of bold black characters printed on the front page—

"Governor Mo was assassinated at Ciyun Temple. The Guangdong Army issued a telegram to the whole country, announcing that it would launch a full-scale counter-offensive against the remnants of the Guangxi clique from today onwards."

Below is a subtitle: "The Governor's Mansion has not yet announced the death, suggesting internal strife may have already broken out."

The news spread like wildfire, from the streets to the alleys, from the teahouses to the docks.

Some people clapped and cheered, some panicked, some dropped their loads and ran home, and some squatted by the roadside holding the newspaper and reading it over and over again, their fingers trembling so much they could barely hold the paper.

The Guangxi soldiers were patrolling the streets when they heard the newsboy's shout. The squad leader, who was in charge, froze for a few seconds, then snatched the newspaper from the pedestrian's hand. He glanced at it, his face turned pale, and he threw the newspaper on the ground before turning and running towards the governor's mansion.

Yonghan Road, at the entrance of a narrow alley.

Yin Qiang was squatting in the corner, wearing a coarse cloth jacket covered in patches, his face smeared with soot, and his hair a mess like a bird's nest. He was holding half a sesame seed cake and was about to put it in his mouth when he suddenly heard the newsboy's shout and stopped in his tracks.

"Mo Laohu was assassinated..."

Yin Qiang slowly put down the sesame seed cake, stood up, and walked to the alley entrance.

A newsboy ran past him, waving a newspaper and shouting "Extra!"

Yin Qiang stopped him, took out a copper coin from his pocket, and took a newspaper.

Meanwhile, newsboys on the street were shouting the same message in a relay-like manner.

"Mo Laohu is dead! Mo Laohu is dead!"

"The Guangdong army has made its move! Li Fulin's troops have already entered the city!"

One bombshell after another was dropped, and pedestrians flocked to the newsstands from all directions, scrambling to buy a newspaper.

The window on the second floor of the teahouse was pushed open, and someone leaned out and shouted, "Is it true?" The coolies on the dock threw down their carrying poles and gathered in a group, standing in the middle of the crowd around the only literate accountant, loudly reading the newspaper headlines.

The entire city seemed to be stirred into a boiling pot of porridge by these announcements, with shouts of surprise, arguments, curses, and barely suppressed cheers rising and falling everywhere.

Yin Qiang unfolded the newspaper, his eyes scanning the headline on the front page word by word. His expression changed from shock to bewilderment, and then from bewilderment to disbelief.

He recalled that day in the dark alley, when Chen Hongwu placed the silver dollars on the brick edge, turned to him and said, "There's no need to go south out of the city. Just wait for the main force to arrive in Guangzhou."

He didn't understand then, but he does now.

Tiger Mo is dead!

That night, Chen Hongwu went to Ciyun Temple. Not only did he go, but he also beat Mo Laohu to death!

Yin Qiang held the newspaper, his fingers trembling so much that the paper rustled.

His lips slowly curled into a smile, revealing two rows of teeth yellowed from smoking. He suddenly sprang up from the ground, shoved the sesame seed cake into the arms of the little beggar at the alley entrance, and ran off into the city.

At this point, the Guangxi soldiers no longer cared about him, a lowly wanted criminal.

Mo Laohu is dead! The Guangxi Clique is finished! The main force is coming!

He ran incredibly fast, splashing water everywhere he went in the alley, shouting all the while, "You damn Chen! You damn well... you damn well really killed Mo Laohu!"