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

Beiping, western suburbs.

The sky was a clear, bright blue, and the wind swept up pear blossoms, scattering them like lingering snow.

A dilapidated old royal garden has now been converted into a private training ground.

Two rows of jujube trees lined both sides of the brick-grinding path, their branches as hard as iron, yet they had not sprouted any buds. The center of the field was swept clean, not a single fallen leaf could be found.

A middle-aged man is walking in circles in the center of the field.

He was about fifty years old, of medium build, with a fair complexion, no beard, delicate eyebrows and eyes, and a smooth chin like a woman's.

The greyish-white silk shorts he wore somehow had a certain elegance on him. His thin-soled boots moved so lightly on the brick floor that they didn't even stir up any dust.

He practices Baguazhang.

When still, it is like the gnarled roots of an old tree; when in motion, it is like a dragon playing in the water.

He pushed and deflected with both palms, his palms hollow, his ten fingers like hooks, sometimes piercing the palm, sometimes stepping forward.

As her waist twisted and turned, her spine loosened segment by segment, and her whole body seemed like a thin silk ribbon being blown by the wind, winding and turning, seemingly to the left but actually to the right.

Suddenly, a soft sound was heard from inside his body, like a copper bean falling into a porcelain plate, crisp and long.

Immediately, his entire body crackled and popped, like peppercorns being poured into a pot of hot oil.

He suddenly thrust his right palm forward, and as the wind from his palm passed, a locust leaf three zhang away drifted away on its own, as if it had been brushed aside by an invisible hand.

"Bang!"

A young man across from them pulled the trigger.

The bullet left the barrel and flew towards the middle-aged man's heart.

The middle-aged man didn't turn his head, his left shoulder slumped, and he tilted half a foot to the right.

The bullet grazed his left shoulder and struck the wall behind him, sending up a cloud of brick dust.

"Bang!"

The second shot was aimed at the back of his head.

The middle-aged man seemed to have eyes growing on the back of his head. He tilted his neck slightly, and a bullet grazed his earlobe, taking away a strand of silver hair.

"Bang! Bang!"

Two more shots, one above and one below, were fired simultaneously at his dantian and the back of his knee.

The middle-aged man spun around, like a millstone, and the two bullets shot out to the left and right, both embedding themselves in the wall.

The young man fired three more shots, the gunshots rang out in a cacophony, but the bullets still failed to hit the middle-aged man.

The opponent moved nimbly within a small space, like a ghost or a wisp of smoke.

The bullets were all fired, and the bolt was left unloaded.

The middle-aged man had returned to his original spot, slowly pressing his palms down, exhaling a long breath, with a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.

The young man quickly put away his gun, bent over and ran up, his face beaming: "Master, your skills are unparalleled! If Glasses Cheng had your skills back then, he wouldn't have been killed by the Eight-Nation Alliance."

The middle-aged man took the handkerchief and slowly wiped behind his ear, saying calmly, "In terms of skill, Senior Brother Cheng is far superior to me. It was an accident back then; his braid got tangled. Otherwise, a mere musket wouldn't have been much of a threat to him."

He paused, draping a towel over his arm. "You didn't come here today just to practice shooting with me, did you?"

The young man chuckled dryly: "Master is wise. Several gentlemen from the Northern Prefecture have sent people to our door, hoping to invite you to come out of seclusion."

"What are you doing?" The middle-aged man didn't even lift his eyelids.

"Chen Hongwu killed Lord Rongshan. That's one thing, but now the newspapers are touting him as 'the best in the world.' The gentlemen of the Northern Prefecture can't swallow this insult, saying that this is clearly using the old people of our Great Qing to gain fame."

As the young man spoke, he rubbed his cuff with his fingertips. "They sent me here because they want to ask Master to go to Shanghai and uphold justice."

The middle-aged man slowly walked to the corridor, picked up his teacup, and took a sip: "I've read the newspaper; this man's kung fu is very pure. The fact that he could kill Rong Shan is enough to show that his martial arts have reached an incredible level."

He put down his teacup, his voice calm: "But I no longer get involved in these trivial matters. The Qing Dynasty is gone. I have no obligation to be a pawn for these old people."

Go and tell them that I, Xia Yushan, am a vegetarian and practice martial arts, seeking only a peaceful life in my later years. Unless Chen Hongwu himself heads north and runs into me, let them find someone else.

The young man bowed, still trying to persuade him further: "Master, the amount they gave this time is quite large. And they said—"

"You know they gave a lot." The middle-aged man turned his head and looked directly into the young man's eyes.

The young man froze, his smile hanging in the air.

"I won't blame you for saying a few words after you've taken their money. But if you say anything more, don't blame me for turning ruthless."

The middle-aged man's voice was still not loud, but it felt like a cold wind blowing into the back of his neck.

The young man's face turned deathly pale, his knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed to his knees. His lips moved for a long time before he finally managed to squeeze out a single word: "Yes."

I dared not look up again.

---

Shanghai, in front of the Jingwu Association gate.

Several black-covered horse-drawn carriages were parked at the street corner, followed by more than a dozen Japanese people dressed in kimonos.

The leader was short and stocky, with a dark complexion, wearing a felt hat, followed by two Public Works Department constables. There were also several plainclothes officers, their waists bulging.

"Chen Gongzhe! Chen Gongzhe!" the dark-faced Japanese man shouted in broken Chinese, lifting his foot to climb the steps. "Hand over Chen Hongwen!"

Chen Gongzhe stood with his hands behind his back in front of the Jingwu Association.

Behind him stood more than twenty disciples of the Jingwu Association, all dressed in short clothes and belts, lined up by the door, glaring menacingly.

"Mr. Suzuki, you brought men to block the entrance of my Jingwu Association. Do you have a search warrant from the Municipal Council?" Chen Gongzhe asked calmly, his voice not loud, but enough to drown out the noise at the street corner.

The Japanese man named Suzuki sternly declared, "Chen Hongwu is a wanted criminal of the Empire. His family and accomplices should also be arrested. I advise you not to harbor a wanted criminal, lest you bring trouble upon yourselves!"

"Chen Hongwu is not here," Chen Gongzhe said. "Chen Hongwen is not a wanted criminal either. You Japanese are making a scene in front of my Jingwu Association. Have you forgotten the rules of the Municipal Council and the French Concession?"

Suzuki sneered, then turned to the police officers behind him and said, "Surround this place! If you don't hand over the person, we'll search inside!"

The police officers hesitated for a moment, but eventually stepped forward.

The Jingwu Association disciples immediately blocked their way, and the two sides were locked in a stalemate, creating a tense atmosphere.

"Let's see who dares to trespass!" Chen Gongzhe shouted suddenly, his voice booming like a bell. "Since its establishment, the Jingwu Gymnastics Association has taught the art of strengthening the body and defending the country, not a private residence that you Japanese can search at will!"

"If you want to search, bring official documents. If you want to arrest someone, bring official letters. If you have neither, you won't be stepping through this door today!"

Suzuki's face twitched, and he was about to explode when a police officer behind him leaned in and whispered a few words in his ear.

"The location of the Jingwu Association is special, and forcibly breaking in could cause a dispute between the Municipal Council and the International Settlement."

Suzuki gritted his teeth, but ultimately didn't force himself on him.

"You'd better have nothing to do with him." He glared at Chen Gongzhe, then turned abruptly. "Let's go!"

Even so, several Japanese men in kimonos remained on the street corner, their eyes fixed coldly on the gate of the Jingwu Association.

Chen Gongzhe watched the carriages disappear into the distance, then slowly turned his head and said to his disciples behind him, "Close the gate."

The gate of the Jingwu Association slowly closed, the hinges making a heavy thud, like a muffled thunderclap.