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

At that moment, flashes of fire erupted at the main gate, and gunshots rang out like popping beans.

The Japanese reinforcements had already reached the entrance of the command post. A dozen rifles and a light machine gun opened fire simultaneously, and bullets rained down like a downpour, shattering doors and windows and sending bricks and stones flying.

Before the gunshot rang out, Chen Hongwu had already flipped backward, and with a push of his toes, his body moved like a swallow, instantly disappearing into the shadows behind the corridor pillars.

He didn't flee far; instead, he slid along the wall and reached out to pull the scattered rifle ammunition pouches next to the corpse into his arms.

One by one, the gleaming yellow bullet casings, heavy and slippery, were flipped in his palm and became his hidden weapons.

"All Japanese devils deserve to die!"

Chen Hongwu subtly channeled his strength into his fingers, his arm moving like a slingshot.

A bullet shot out, fast as a meteor, without making a sound, and pierced the left eye of a machine gunner six zhang away, penetrating deep into his brain, causing him to fall backward and his gun to roll.

"He's there—"

Another Japanese soldier had just raised his gun when the bullet pierced his throat. The sound caught in his throat, turning into a very low whimper, and he collapsed limply.

In the silent night battle, Chen Hongwu was like a ghost.

With each bullet fired, a life, like a lamp, is extinguished.

The Japanese soldiers could only hear the sound of their comrades falling to the ground, but they could not see where the enemy was. The darker it was, the colder they felt.

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The quick-thinking one hurriedly raised his gun and fired wildly, but the bullets all hit the wall plaster and mud.

With agility and nimbleness, Chen Hongwu moved around using flower beds, stone steps, and wooden boxes, constantly harvesting crops.

With his fingers like a bow and a pellet like an arrow, Chen Hongwu was like a judge of the underworld, ready to appear on duty.

"Whoosh!"

With a thought, three or five more bullet casings flew out from between his fingers.

As he crossed a low wall in the east courtyard, his feet suddenly sank, and he felt a chill in his ears as a long knife slashed at his waist from the side.

Chen Hongwu lifted his hips and twisted his waist to dodge the blade. A gentle breeze swept across the blade, causing his clothes to flutter.

A person stands under the moon.

He wore a Japanese officer's uniform, a dark gray military cap, and his hand rested on his long sword. The sword was not fully drawn, only half-exposed, its blade reflecting a cold light, like frost under the moonlight.

Iaijutsu, also known as the sword-drawing technique, is a stance that this person adopted, a standard technique from the Dream God lineage.

The Dream God Transmission School is a renowned school of ancient Japanese Iaijutsu, which emphasizes "pulling out whether sitting or standing, and pulling out means killing."

It was passed down from Hayashi Jinsuke of the Ming Dynasty, and was honed by several generations of great swordsmen. It especially emphasizes the seated iaido stance, where the sword is drawn silently and can kill with a single blow.

"Chinese." The man drew his sword, the tip pointing diagonally at the ground. "Prepare to die!"

Before he could finish speaking, Chen Hongwu had already stepped inside.

The moment the blade flashed, he had already burrowed close to the officer's chest, his knuckles like iron. He grabbed the officer's wrist as he drew the blade, and with a twisting force, a crack was heard as the wrist bone dislocated.

The officer, though in pain, did not abandon his sword; instead, he used his left hand to pull back his ribs.

Chen Hongwu's left palm struck first, hitting the officer's left wrist pulse, causing the short knife to slip from his hand. He slid his feet and moved behind the officer. His right elbow, like a spear, struck the back of the officer's neck.

"Bang!"

With his neck fractured, the officer fell straight down and never moved again.

Chen Hongwu did not stop, but turned into a small path. Suddenly, in the darkness, he felt fists approaching from both sides at the same time.

One man's punches were fierce and powerful, using short, quick movements to target his waist; the other rolled along the ground, specifically attacking his lower body, like a mad dog biting indiscriminately around his legs.

Chen Hongwu recognized him immediately.

One person wields a fist, using a short bridge and a narrow stance, with a fierce and powerful punch—this is precisely the "striking the joints" skill of the Five Ancestors Fist.

Wuzuquan originated in Fujian and was passed down by Cai Yuming from Jinjiang in the late Qing Dynasty. This style of boxing is based on five schools: Bodhidharma, Arhat, Monkey, Crane, and Xuan Nu. It emphasizes "advancing and striking with close-range force, and striking the bridge with short, powerful blows." It is ruthless and focuses on attacking the joints and midline of the human body.

The other man crouched down like a dog, his body shrinking as he rolled along the ground, his legs flying like scissors in the shadows, occasionally striking Chen Hongwu's groin.

This is called Ground Dog Technique, also known as Dog Boxing. It focuses on lower body movement, using rolling, flipping, pouncing, and drilling to defeat the enemy. The movements are strange and unpredictable, mimicking dog fighting, and specifically targeting the shinbone, knee, and groin. It is extremely insidious.

Both of them are skilled in martial arts and have mastered the techniques; they are capable of opening their own schools and teaching students.

Under the moonlight, Chen Hongwu could see that the two men were both around thirty years old, dressed in the same style, wearing short shirts and leggings, and with a江湖 (jianghu, a term referring to the world of martial arts and chivalry) air about them.

"You guys have some ambition, serving as dogs for the Japanese," Chen Hongwu said in a deep voice.

The burly man who practiced the Five Ancestors Fist sneered: "Master Chen, don't put it so harshly. In this chaotic world, without your skills and courage, we brothers still need to make a living. The Japanese provide the money, and we provide the labor; it's only right and proper."

The sharp-faced man who practiced dog-fist hunched over, his eyes gleaming green in the night: "You're a great hero, so naturally you look down on us lowlifes. But a person only has about a hundred or so pounds of flesh in their lifetime. Whoever feeds them, they'll risk their life for them."

Chen Hongwu nodded, expressionless: "Those who walk different paths cannot make plans together."

Before he finished speaking, he shot between the two of them like a cannonball!

He first punched the Five Ancestors Fist giant in the chest with the force of a fully drawn bow.

The burly man shrank back, crossed his arms, and tried to block the attack with the Five Ancestors Bridge Hand technique.

Chen Hongwu's fist suddenly broke apart, and his five fingers spread out like eagle claws, gripping Chen Hongwu's forearm.

Before the big man could break free, his right elbow had already slammed into the man's ribs.

"Snapped!"

This elbow strike was both cold and heavy, a close-range variation of the Bajiquan "Overlord Elbow".

The burly man groaned, a mouthful of blood rising to his throat. Before he could spit it out, Chen Hongwu delivered a powerful punch to his chest, lifting him a foot high before slamming him to the ground, where he never got up again.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, the dog-fisted man rolled close to Chen Hongwu's feet, his hands forming claws, one hand grabbing his groin and the other gripping his leg. He performed this "dog-ground roll" extremely quickly, always taking advantage of the opponent's unpreparedness to engage in close-quarters combat.

Chen Hongwu's feet trembled as he unleashed a "Bajizi Stomp".

The towering foot stomped down, landing squarely on the man's shoulder. A series of "crack" sounds rang out, and the burly man with the dog-like fists half-knelt on the ground, his face buried in the mud.

After killing several people.

Chen Hongwu climbed over the north wall, and the flames of the pursuing soldiers were already hundreds of feet away.

He landed silently, like a wisp of smoke drifting along the base of the wall.

The back alleys of Hongkou are like a spider web. He walked through the streets and alleys, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, sometimes leaping onto low walls and sometimes disappearing into arcades. His movements were elusive, like a ghost or a demon.

The Japanese soldiers' whistles rose and fell, and they were clearly still setting up nets everywhere, but he couldn't even touch a corner of their clothes anymore.

He ran a long way, straight out of Hongkou District, and only slowed down slightly when he reached the abandoned docks in the Yangshupu area.

A cool breeze blew from the Huangpu River, carrying a faint smell of coal smoke.

The cold moonlight shone on the river, making it appear as if it were scattering countless silver fragments.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks.

The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up slightly, as if swept by a few strands of ice in the night breeze.

He closed his eyes, held his breath, and listened intently. About twenty feet behind him, there were extremely light footsteps, three points, approaching from afar. They stepped on broken bricks but did not completely touch the ground, deliberately slowing their pace.

"Three tails, following for so long, aren't you tired?" Chen Hongwu didn't turn around, his voice carried away by the wind.