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

Main road.

The most prosperous place in Shanghai, bar none.

It stretches from the Bund in the east to the Racecourse in the west, forming the heart of the bustling metropolis.

The three major companies, Wing On, Sincere, and Sun Sun, stand side by side, their buildings several stories high, their glazed tile roofs gleaming golden-green in the sunlight.

The shops lined the street one after another, with silk shops, foreign goods stores, watch shops, and photo studios, their signs stacked high like plasters embedded in the building walls.

"Ding-dong—ding-dong—"

The tram passed through the center of the street, its bell ringing crisply.

Car horns blared incessantly, mingling with the shouts of rickshaw pullers, newsboys, and peddlers, creating a buzzing sound like a pot of boiling water.

The area sees tens of thousands of people every day, including compradors from foreign firms in suits, elegant young ladies in cheongsams, bare-chested dockworkers, and beggars in burlap sacks.

A melting pot of all sorts of people, from the very beginning to the end; if you have money, you can buy everything here, from birth to death.

This area was outside the jurisdiction of the Chinese-controlled area and not adjacent to the French Concession; it was the core of the International Settlement.

The Municipal Council Police Station had a police post here, where Indian doormen, Chinese detectives, British constables, and all sorts of people were mixed together to maintain a semblance of order.

At this time.

A crowd gathered in front of a four-story teahouse, three or four layers deep, all looking up.

Two things are hanging outside the carved stone railing on the third floor of the teahouse.

A large, obese corpse, with a hemp rope piercing its neck, was hanging in mid-air like a pig being hung up.

The gray silk robe was stained with dark red blood, which had congealed into patches.

The body was still swaying slightly, and when the wind blew, the cuffs and hem of the clothes fluttered gently, as if the person was still alive.

The other head hung to the side, also tied with a thin pigtail braid using hemp rope.

His head was thin and bony, his cheekbones were tightly wrapped in skin, and his eyes were wide open, as if he had died with his eyes open.

"It's Huang Jinrong... Boss Huang of the Green Gang!" someone whispered.

"That's Boss Huang?! And what about the other head? Why does it still have a queue... Oh my, it's an old relic from the Qing Dynasty." Someone chimed in, their voice low but unable to hide their excitement.

"The Qing Dynasty has been gone for eight years, how can anyone still wear a queue? What a country bumpkin!"

"Who did it?"

"Who else could it be? Wasn't it in yesterday's newspapers? Chen Hongwu wanted his head, and today it's hanging right here!"

"Killing someone and then hanging up the body, that's too much..." A civilized scholar in a long robe was interrupted by a fierce glare from the person next to him.

The murmurs spread outwards from the center, and the entire street swayed like a wheat field being blown by the wind.

The shop assistants dared not open the door, the vendors quietly retreated, and a few of the bolder ones even pushed forward, their eyes straining to peek at the corpse.

Some people made the sign of the cross and cried out "Amen, Amen," some muttered "What a sin," and many more were excited, as if they had stumbled upon a great show for free.

Watching the excitement is nothing to be ashamed of.

"Make way! Make way!" A group of police officers squeezed through the crowd, led by a Chinese detective wearing a British-style police cap.

He held his whistle across his chest, while six police officers behind him swung their batons, and it took them a great deal of effort to clear a path through the crowd.

He looked up and saw the two hanging corpses, and his face twitched visibly.

"Cut the rope! Put the man down first!" the detective roared.

Two police officers brought a ladder, climbed up shakily, and cut the rope.

Huang Jinrong's body fell to the ground with a dull thud, like a dead pig sliding off a chopping board.

The crowd retreated in a rush, then slowly circled back, standing on tiptoe to see.

"He's out of breath, he died a long time ago," someone whispered.

In the crowd, a young man in a gray cloth jacket withdrew from the group and turned to walk east.

He weaved through the flow of carriages and people, like a fish swimming into deep water, weaving through the crowd without even being touched by the hem of his clothes.

After taking seven or eight steps, his figure seemed to have grown taller.

After a few more steps, the width of his shoulders changed.

When he turned into a narrow alley, he wiped his face and came out with a square face with distinct features, a slightly yellow complexion, and a faint old scar on his left cheek, looking like a laborer looking for a living at the docks.

Chen Hongwu continued walking, blending into the crowd, like a drop of water falling into the Huangpu River.

In the center of the crowd, the detective looked up again at the body that had been taken down and placed on the bench, and sighed: "Huang Jinrong, Huang Jinrong, you dominated Shanghai your whole life, but in the end, you became the chicken that others killed to scare the monkeys."

He pulled off his gloves and threw them on the corpse.

The wind on the main road seemed to carry a hint of blood.

---

No. 37 Wusong Road, Daiwa Trading Company.

Takano Sasaburo's body was covered with a white cloth and placed in the center of the hall.

Blood seeped through the white cloth, staining the rush mat a dark red.

Kenichi Sato knelt on the steps, his eyelids twitching.

He was fiddling with a string of prayer beads in his hand, his facial muscles tense, his cheeks bulging.

"Baka!" He suddenly jumped up and kicked over the lacquered wooden tea table beside him.

Teapot and teacups shattered on the floor, and warm water spilled onto Yoshio Tanaka's knees.

Kenichi Satoh was panting heavily, furious, pacing back and forth, cursing under his breath.

"A Chinese man, a boxer, has outdone you all!" He had lost his mind and shouted hysterically, "Mr. Takano is dead! Dead at the hands of a yellow-skinned monkey! In broad daylight, he acted so recklessly! I want to arrest him! No, I want to execute him in public!"

Everyone connected to Chen Hongwu must be arrested! They must all be apprehended as a warning to others!

Kinoshita Shigeo bowed his head: "Branch Chief, please calm down. This Chen Hongwu is no ordinary boxer."

"To be able to kill Mr. Takano, one must already be a martial arts grandmaster."

"Then bring in the grandmasters! Bring in the guns and cannons!" Kenichi Sato snarled. "If that's not enough, then have the military order a blockade! I want everyone to see the consequences of opposing the Great Japanese Empire!"

---

Jingwu Association, a side courtyard.

The small courtyard is located behind the equipment room, consisting of two old rooms, a wisteria trellis, high walls, and a deep courtyard, so that outsiders cannot see in from any direction.

Chen Gongzhe made excellent arrangements. Three meals a day were delivered to the door, and martial arts disciples guarded the entrance, preventing unauthorized personnel from approaching.

Chen Shi squatted under the wisteria trellis, teasing the ants, while a twig traced patterns on the ground.

Chen Hongwen sat on the porch, silent for a long time, before finally looking up and asking Li Yi, "How long do we have to hide?"

"Don't rush." ​​Li Yi leaned against the stone pillar, not even lifting his eyelids. "It won't be long before this game is over."

"But I'm worried about my elder brother," Chen Hongwen said. "If Huang Jinrong falls, and the Green Gang doesn't give up, plus the Black Dragon Society..."

"Your elder brother's strength has reached a transcendent level; he's already a grandmaster. Like a bird soaring into the sky or a fish swimming in the sea, he's no longer bound by any constraints." Li Yi opened his eyes, his gaze calm. "The only one who can keep him is himself."

Chen Hongwen lowered his voice: "Are masters of the Transformation Realm really that powerful? Aren't they afraid of guns, cannons, or armies?"

"It's not that bad," Li Yi shook his head. "Even a master of internal energy would be riddled with bullets from long spears and short cannons. Back then, what a hero Wang Wu was! Yet he was still brought down by a gun."

"At the very least, quite a few Grandmasters of Internal Energy have died under this gunfire over the years."

He paused, then looked at Chen Hongwen: "But if your elder brother wants to leave, the rabble in this city won't be able to stop him."

Chen Hongwen fell silent and slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding in.

Outside the courtyard, the sun was high in the sky, and the disciples of the Jingwu Association were practicing their boxing. Their shouts could be faintly heard, like the beat of drums across the water.