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

The main hall of Hong Sheng Guan was filled with the aroma of tea.

Chen Sheng sat in the main seat, Hong Zhaolin sat in the first guest seat, and Staff Officer Jiang sat down to him, his back straight, his hands on his knees, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

Chen Hongwu sat opposite Hong Zhaolin, with Li Su and others sitting below him. He took the rough porcelain teacup handed to him by his disciple and took a sip.

Hong Zhaolin and Chen Sheng exchanged a few pleasantries about the past.

After three rounds of tea, Hong Zhaolin put down his teacup and looked at Chen Hongwu.

"Master Chen, I, Hong, am a rough man and I don't beat around the bush." ​​He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward slightly. "Master Chen, you navigated through a hail of bullets and easily took Mo Laohu's head. Not only do I, Hong, admire your skill, but Commander-in-Chief Chen also greatly appreciates it."

He paused, then his tone became more serious: "I came here today not only to convey this message from Commander-in-Chief Chen, but also to personally invite you to come out of retirement."

The Guangdong Army is expanding, with many new recruits and a weak foundation. Marksmanship can be practiced, and drills can be trained.

But close-quarters combat skills cannot be taught in three to five months, so I would like to ask you to serve as the martial arts instructor for the Guangdong Army.

After he finished speaking, the hall fell silent for a moment.

Staff Officer Jiang sat to Hong Zhaolin's left, his brows furrowing slightly.

He pushed up his round-framed glasses and glanced at Chen Hongwu.

The young man, around eighteen or nineteen years old, wore a gray cloth short jacket with scorch marks from the bullet wounds on the cuffs. He sat there with his back straight, and apart from his composed demeanor, he didn't seem to have any superhuman abilities.

He didn't think so.

He graduated from the accelerated training program of the Baoding Military Academy, where he studied entirely with Japanese textbooks, including "Infantry Drill Manual," "Shooting Manual," and "Fortification Manual." Later, he studied at the Zhenwu School in Japan and witnessed the training methods of the Japanese Army.

A single machine gun shot fells a whole group; no matter what kind of boxing champion or martial arts master you are, one shot is all it takes.

Chen Hongwu was able to kill Funakoshi Yoshitsugu and the British strongman, Thaksin believed.

But he didn't believe that fists and feet could stop bullets.

As for Mo Laohu's death, the rumors outside were incredibly exaggerated, such as someone single-handedly breaking through the governor's mansion and killing a platoon of guards with his bare hands, but he didn't believe a word of it.

No matter how fast a fist is, can it be faster than a bullet? Mo Laohu is indeed dead, but it was an assassination.

Assassination relies on stealth, timing, and surprise; it's not impossible that guns might be used.

The detailed assassination process that Chen Hongwu revealed to the Guangdong Army was ultimately not witnessed by anyone. These military men liked to exaggerate and boast about their strength, perhaps even claiming that guns were useless, in order to elevate their own status and prestige.

But he only dared to think these words to himself.

He was now just a staff officer in the Guangdong Army, with little influence. Hong Zhaolin was a division commander, and Chen Sheng was a prominent figure in the Foshan martial arts world. Each of them carried more weight than him.

He lowered his eyelids, picked up the teacup, took a sip, and swallowed his indifference along with the tea.

Chen Hongwu put down his teacup.

"I appreciate Commander Hong's kindness," he said calmly. "But I cannot be a martial arts instructor."

Hong Zhaolin's smile faltered slightly.

"It's not a refusal," Chen Hongwu waved his hand. "I don't even have enough time to practice boxing, let alone have the time to go to the military camp for systematic teaching."

An instructor can't just show up a couple of times and demonstrate a few punches to get by; that's just fooling people.

Commander Hong is looking for someone who can stay in the military long-term and personally mentor new recruits. I'm sorry, I can't do that.

Hong Zhaolin opened his mouth, but the light in his eyes dimmed.

It's not that there aren't martial arts instructors in the Guangdong Army; the Hongsheng Martial Arts School has sent several disciples to teach boxing. However, their skills are far inferior to Chen Hongwu's. You couldn't find a near-master-level expert willing to serve as an instructor in the army, even with a lantern.

Masters who have reached a high level of skill would never stoop to be a mere martial arts instructor; they would instead serve as private bodyguards for various warlords and powerful figures.

For example, Du Xinwu served as Sun Yat-sen's bodyguard for a period of time.

He originally thought that as long as he could get Chen Hongwu involved, not to mention new recruits, even veterans could be trained to a whole new level.

Seeing the disappointment on Hong Zhaolin's face, Chen Hongwu picked up his teacup and took another sip.

"However..." he put down his teacup, "guiding one or two lessons is no problem."

Hong Zhaolin suddenly raised his head, and the light in his eyes that had just gone out lit up again.

He paused for a moment, then slapped his thigh and grinned, his laughter echoing throughout the main hall: "Good! Good! One lesson it is! One lesson from Master Chen is better than ten lessons from others!"

Staff Officer Jiang paused, holding his teacup. He hadn't expected Hong Zhaolin to be so happy.

What can you teach in one class? Teach new recruits stance training? Or teach them a couple of rounds of boxing? On the battlefield, bullets are flying everywhere, who's going to spar with you and discuss boxing?

He shook his head slightly, suddenly feeling somewhat bored. There was no point in staying in the Guangdong Army; he might as well go to Shanghai, try his luck in the stock market, and enjoy life.

Seeing that the atmosphere had relaxed, Chen Sheng waved his hand and instructed several disciples to go to the kitchen to prepare dishes.

He then turned to Hong Zhaolin and said with a smile, "Today is a double celebration. Master Chen killed Funakoshi Yoshitsugu in the ring, avenged Master Huang, brought glory to the Foshan martial arts community, and also settled important matters with Commander Hong. It would be a shame not to stay for a meal."

Hong Zhaolin waved his hands repeatedly: "Master Chen has the final say. I, Hong, never stand on ceremony when it comes to getting a free meal!"

Chen Hongwu and the others readily agreed.

While waiting for the food, Ip Man suggested that they go to the courtyard to spar and discuss martial arts. The others also felt a little uncomfortable being with someone like Hung Siu-Lin, who was practically a government official, so they readily agreed.

After almost everyone had left, only Hong Zhaolin and Staff Officer Jiang remained in the hall.

"I don't understand (in a Fenghua accent)." Staff Officer Jiang looked at Hong Zhaolin. "What good would it do to ask him to teach a class or two? Which of these martial arts masters didn't start from a young age? They've practiced boxing for more than ten or even twenty years. I can take them down after three months of gun training."

"Old Chiang, you've been studying too much Western culture and don't believe in the things left by our ancestors."

Hong Zhaolin sighed, "How about this, when Master Chen has time to give a lesson, you can go and sit in and experience it."

No amount of explanation can compare to your personal experience.