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

Chen Hongwu straightened up, his breathing steady, and his expression normal.

From grabbing the man to beating him to death, it took less than six breaths. A few drops of blood splattered on his clothes, which he flicked away with his finger, as casually as if he were flicking away a speck of dust.

At the entrance to the side hall, Huang Hansheng's face was pale, and he swallowed hard.

He had learned boxing from Wong Fei-hung since he was a child, and had seen countless fights, bloodshed, and injuries, but he had never seen such a swift and ruthless fighting style before.

It was truly as swift as thunder and as fast as the wind.

Huang Feihong's expression didn't change much. He had traveled all over the country for sixty years and had seen too many people like this.

But a thought also crossed his mind: Chen Hongwu had just said in the side hall, "You can't act rashly," and "You can learn a lot by sparring with a master." His tone was calm and his expression composed.

Back then, he was like a gentle breeze to people.

But this is the true face he presents when facing the enemy; the two are completely different.

The Vajra glares fiercely, thus subduing the four demons; the Bodhisattva lowers his brows, thus showing compassion to the six realms of existence.

The remaining guests and staff in the hall were all stunned. Several drunk martial arts masters were sobered up by the scene. Some people dropped their wine glasses on the ground, and the porcelain shattered into pieces. No one picked them up.

A dead silence.

Until someone said in a trembling voice, "Murder—murder."

Chen Hongwu didn't react at all. He bent down and grabbed the corpse's ankle. He exerted force in his arm, and the "shaking feather force" of Xingyi Quan exploded from his waist and hips, and entered the corpse's joints through his arm.

The corpse was like a rope that had been taut, its joints cracking loudly, and the contents of its clothes pockets tumbled to the ground.

A revolver with a gleaming barrel, six bullets loaded in the cylinder, and the logo of a foreign firm engraved on the handle.

A stack of silver notes, colorful and scattered on the blue brick floor, some stained with blood, their face value no less than five thousand taels.

A brass pocket watch, its chain broken. Several photographs lay scattered on the ground, all of them of the same person.

Yes, it's quite obvious that it belongs to Chen Hongwu.

The guests were in an uproar.

"gun!"

"Silver notes! Three hundred taels of silver notes!"

"There are photos too! Photos of Master Chen!"

The murmurs erupted like a floodgate opening, spreading from the back of the lobby to the front. The confusion and fear from before instantly transformed into sudden understanding upon seeing these things.

Even the dumbest person could see that this guy was an assassin who had accepted a bounty!

"Master Chen," Wong Fei-hung said, "this man just said the word 'green'."

"I heard you," Chen Hongwu said.

Ip Man also stepped forward. He glanced down at the pistol on the ground; the bolt was already half-drawn and ready to fire at any moment.

He couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine. This person had been crouching in the corner, less than five zhang away from the side hall where Huang Feihong and the others were discussing boxing techniques. If it hadn't been for Chen Hongwu's vigilance, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

Chen Rumin also came over. His face was grave. He bent down and carefully examined the banknotes. When he saw the stamps of Nantong, Zhenjiang, and Huai'an on them, his brows furrowed. He said to Huang Feihong, "The stamps on these banknotes are from banks in Jiangbei. They don't circulate much in Guangdong. This person is probably from Shanghai."

Chen Hongwu looked down at the corpse. "That's the Green Gang. Did Mo Laohu hire assassins from the Green Gang?"

The Green Gang.

The largest secret society in the late Qing Dynasty and early Republic of China, at its peak it had hundreds of thousands of followers, spread throughout the Yangtze River basin, and its reach extended to canal transport, docks, casinos, opium dens and brothels.

In Shanghai during the early years of the Republic of China, the Green Gang's word carried more weight than that of the police.

Mo Laohu's bounty was like a piece of bloody meat thrown into the water, attracting one shark after another.

This person was more patient, more resourceful, and more skilled in martial arts than any of the previous assassins.

"Master Huang," Chen Hongwu turned around, "I need you to investigate the Green Gang matter for me. What's this person's name? What's his seniority in the Green Gang? Does he have any accomplices in Foshan?"

Huang Feihong nodded.

"I had someone investigate. Po Chi Lam still has some influence in Foshan; they can get things done at the docks." He paused. "However, the Green Gang's territory in Guangdong isn't large; their power is mainly concentrated in Shanghai, Jiangsu, and Zhejiang. The fact that this person was tracked down from Shanghai to Foshan means the bounty is still being increased."

"Thank you." Chen Hongwu clasped his hands in thanks, then turned around and walked towards the main entrance of the hall.

Watching his retreating figure, Wong Fei-hung suddenly asked, "Master Chen, where are you going?"

"Guangzhou." Chen Hongwu said without turning his head.

It's time to settle accounts with Mo Laohu; now he has the power to do so.

Moreover, we can't rely entirely on the protection of the Guangdong Army. Who knows, if a full-scale war breaks out one day, Mo Laohu will be the first to march on Foshan and use the Chen family as a sacrifice!

"Wait for the opportune moment, and strike with deadly precision!"

Outside the main entrance of the hall, the night was as dark as ink. Chen Hongwu's figure stepped across the threshold and was swallowed up by the darkness.

Behind him, the candlelight still flickered, reflected in everyone's pupils like clusters of dim flames.

The guests who had not yet left looked at each other, and someone sighed and muttered, "The world of martial arts is like this," and then no one else spoke.