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

There are no secrets in Shanghai, except for Victoria.

The news that Huang Jinrong's body had been hung on a teahouse on the main road spread throughout the city in less than two hours.

From the young masters embracing dancers on the Paramount dance floor to the laborers carrying sacks at the Shiliupu Wharf, everyone was talking about it.

The idlers in the teahouses and taverns were talking animatedly, recounting how Huang Jinrong was dragged out of the main hall, how he was hung on the stone railing, and how he spun around in the wind like a dead dog.

The more the speaker talks, the more mysterious it becomes; the more the listener listens, the more mysterious it becomes.

Some say he was killed by a blue-faced, fanged monk; others say it was an assassin wielding two guns; still others say that Huang Jinrong simply died from opium addiction and was casually hanged on the spot.

Rumors, like snowflakes, fell into Shanghai's boiling oil pot, causing uproar throughout the city.

The newspaper office's phone lines were ringing off the hook, and all the editors, reporters, typesetters, and printers were recalled overnight.

The steam engines roared in the machine room, and the sound of lead typesetting was as dense as falling rain.

The *Shen Bao* newspaper was the first to issue a special edition, printing an additional 5,000 copies before dawn, which sold out in less than half an hour. Located on Wangping Street, this newspaper had been established for nearly fifty years, making it arguably the oldest newspaper in Shanghai. Originating with British investment and later under the control of Shi Liangcai, its opinions, while not radical, were always measured and stable, best representing the voice of Shanghai's upper-middle-class merchants and gentry. Its publication of this special edition clearly demonstrated the magnitude of the event.

The Times followed suit. This newspaper, founded by Di Pingzi, specialized in short, concise articles with lively layouts and eye-catching headlines.

The accompanying image was so large it took up half the front page, leaving only two lines of large text underneath:

"Golden Gang tycoon Huang Jinrong died suddenly, his body hanging in the street; former Qing dynasty officials were also beheaded. Who is the real culprit?"

Needless to say, the News was one of the two most famous newspapers in Shanghai at the time, on par with the Shen Bao.

It has always been steady and composed, and this time it published a long editorial. Every word seemed peaceful, but upon closer inspection, it was like a knife: "Huang Jinrong rose to power through gangs, colluded with the concessions, and carried out vigilante justice. Now he has been murdered. Although it is a murder case, it is also a cycle of cause and effect. However, the Shanghai Municipal Council of the International Settlement is probably to blame for the deterioration of public security in this way."

Other tabloids, such as the Jingbao, Jingangzuan, and Xiaoribao, flocked to it like flies to blood.

The title "Was Huang Jinrong's death worthwhile?" alone could be published for three consecutive days.

The accompanying illustrations are incredibly detailed and vividly rendered.

The photo was taken that day. Huang Jinrong's fat body was hanging crookedly, the rope was stuck into his neck flesh, his two arms were hanging down unnaturally, his tongue was half sticking out, and blood was dripping down his sleeves onto the street.

Beside it was a human head, with a gray-white braid hanging loose, a hideous face, and bulging eyes.

Everyone was curious about what kind of extraordinary abilities Chen Hongwu, this unstoppable and invincible dragon crossing the river, possessed.

That afternoon, the Japanese published arrest warrants in the newspapers Shenbao and Xinwenbao.

Black text on white paper is particularly glaring:

"We have discovered that Chen Hongwu, a Chinese national, committed a heinous crime of murder in Hongkou, Shanghai, killing several citizens of the Japanese Empire and assassinating the renowned Japanese martial arts master, Takano Sasaburo. Therefore, this association is offering a reward of 30,000 silver dollars for his capture. The reward will be doubled for anyone who can capture him alive. All Japanese residents and members of friendly nations should take note."

The photo wasn't very clear; it only showed half of her profile.

Chen Hongwu lowered his head, wearing a gray cloth short jacket, half of his body submerged in the shadow cast by the crowd.

Meanwhile, in an inconspicuous old-style house in the north of the city, the atmosphere was frighteningly somber.

This house is located at the end of a narrow alley in Zhabei. It has blue bricks and gray tiles, and a half-worn plaque with the three characters "Shendetang" hanging above the door.

The courtyard is surrounded by high walls and has three inner courtyards. Usually, only a few old servants come and go, and most outsiders don't know who lives here.

This place was a secret gathering place for the remnants of the Qing Dynasty.

The leader was a third-rank officer from the Imperial Guard Commander's Office in the capital, named Nerbu.

This man was in his sixties, not very tall, with extremely high cheekbones. He always wore a faded mandarin jacket and carried a sandalwood cane. He walked with his back ramrod straight, like an old flagpole covered in dust.

At this moment, a banner is displayed in the center of the main room, with the words "Restoration" written on it. The ink has faded, but it was written by Prince Su himself back then.

There were six or seven people sitting below the hall. Some wore long gowns, some wore short jackets, some had their braids coiled at the back of their heads, and some had shaved their foreheads, revealing their bare skin. They were all former officials from the previous dynasty.

The news that Guarjia Rongshan had been beheaded and his head displayed in the street came in at noon that day.

The messenger was a man in his thirties. He rushed to the front of the hall, knelt on the ground, and cried, "My lords, Lord Rongshan is gone! His head has been displayed on the main street, and the photo is in the newspaper!"

Everyone in the room changed their expressions at the same time.

Nerb slowly stood up, slamming his cane on the ground: "Who did this?"

"The same person who killed Huang Jinrong is named Chen Hongwu!" The man held out the wanted poster and raised it above his head with both hands.

Nerb took the newspaper and, using the daylight filtering through the window paper, squinted and looked at it for a long time.

"Chen Hongwu," he murmured.

"Rongshan is a man of our Great Qing. Whoever dies at his hands cannot live." Nerbu's gaze suddenly sharpened. "Gentlemen, this is a matter of face and life. If we don't skin Chen Hongwu alive, the world will think that all the people of our Great Qing are dead."

A middle-aged man with a queue at the head of the table said, "Sir, this Chen Hongwu was able to kill Rong Shan, so he must be no ordinary person. He might be difficult to deal with in a one-on-one fight."

He pondered for a moment and said, "We need to find a way to stop him from the official front. Right now, both the Municipal Council and the Japanese want to arrest him. Perhaps—"

"Using someone else to do the dirty work?" Nerb folded the newspaper and stuffed it into his sleeve. "This kind of knife isn't so easy to borrow."

He shook his head and sighed: "Rongshan's kung fu has reached the level of Huajin. Since Chen Hongwu was able to kill him, he must be at least above the level of Huajin."

"If such a person were still alive, and fell into our hands, he would either be used by the Qing Dynasty or killed by the Qing Dynasty."

Now that the Qing Dynasty is gone, keeping it around is not a good thing.

A moment of silence fell over the hall. Everyone understood what Nerbu meant.

"Should we ask one of them to help?" the middle-aged man with a braid suddenly asked.

Everyone's expression changed again.

Nerb did not answer immediately; his gaze turned to the window, where the old locust tree in the yard rustled its leaves without any wind.

After a long while, he slowly spoke: "Let's send a few people to test it first. If we can't find out the truth, then we can alert that person."

---

On the same night, in Longhua, at the Songhu Military Governor's Office.

The lights were still on in Lu Yongxiang's attendant's room.

The telegraph machine had just stopped when the adjutant tiptoed into the door and saw Lu Yongxiang leaning against a rattan chair, flipping through several newspapers on the table.

There was a covered teacup on the small table next to him, which had long since gone cold, but he didn't touch it.

"Just say what it is," Lu Yongxiang said without looking up.

"Does the commander know anything about Huang Jinrong?" the adjutant asked in a low voice.

Lu Yongxiang grunted and turned a page of the newspaper: "It's all over Shanghai, everyone knows."

"There's new information today: the Japanese have issued an arrest warrant for Chen Hongwu, and their background has been thoroughly investigated."

He was from Sanhai County, Guangdong Province. Some time ago in Guangzhou, the Guangdong Army hired him as a martial arts instructor. Hong Zhaolin and he had a close relationship.

Lu Yongxiang stopped pointing and looked up: "Did the Guangdong Army hire him as an instructor?"

"Yes, I heard he's a guest of honor of Chen Jiongming. Mo Laohu died at his hands back then." The adjutant paused. "This man is quite powerful in the south, and now he's causing trouble in Shanghai, getting attacked from both sides by the Green Gang and the Black Dragon Society. Commander, should we…?"

"No rush." ​​Lu Yongxiang put down the newspaper, closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest. "There are fewer and fewer martial artists with real skills these days. People like Sun Lutang and Yang Chengfu are getting old."

I want to see just how much trouble Chen Hongwu can cause.

If it's truly a fine knife, it's a pity it falls into someone else's hands.

"The commander is wise. I found out that Chen Hongwu sent the people around him to the Jingwu Association for refuge, but he himself disappeared. I don't know what he's up to."

Lu Yongxiang pondered for a moment and instructed, "Tomorrow, have Lu Xiaojia go to the Jingwu Association and tell him to only say that he is visiting to learn martial arts, and not to mention anything else, so as not to arouse suspicion from the Japanese."

"Also, keep a close eye on Chen Hongwu's movements. If he can pull through this, I'd like to meet him in person."

"What if you can't make it through?"

"So what if he's dead? In this world, one more death won't make a difference."

The adjutant acknowledged and left, quietly closing the door behind him.