On Martial Arts! The Positioning of National Arts in Faerun

The skirmish had been a confused affair, yet Chen Jinyang had suffered little damage. Aside from a few mercenaries tripping over their own feet and some dented shields, only his left foot had been slightly bruised by the impact. This left him feeling dizzy and bewildered: Damn it! Why is it always my left foot that gets hurt? Is my poor, hairy big toe made of glass?

Setting aside Chen Jinyang's self-pity, the four hot-headed youths who had meddled in his night travel had paid a heavy price! Drizzt the Drow had fallen behind while tending to the terrified elf, Aelf. The halfling, Regis, had been too cowardly to step forward. The unluckiest of them all was the barbarian, Wulfgar; not only had he nearly had his fingers snapped by Chen Jinyang, but he had also been caught in the crossfire of the dwarf king's "flying face-axe," resulting in a slap from a murderous Chen Jinyang that nearly turned him into an idiot. Though he was rescued in time, his muddled brain wouldn't be clear for at least three to five days, and whether his already questionable intelligence would suffer a permanent decline remained to be seen. The most miserable of all was the irascible dwarf king, Bruenor Battlehammer, whose beloved steel shield had been kicked into scrap metal by Chen Jinyang. Not only were his hands fractured, but several of his ribs had been cracked. As the saying goes, "a hundred days to recover from broken bones," so he wouldn't be right for three or four months unless he used some unconventional healing methods.

"I am Drizzt Do'Urden, a ranger of Mielikki! A successor of Montolio Debrouchee! These are my best friends: Regis, First Citizen of Bryn Shander, one of the Ten Towns of Icewind Dale; Wulfgar the barbarian, son of Beorniga of the Elk Tribe; and Bruenor, the clan leader of the Battlehammer dwarves in Icewind Dale. We are searching for Bruenor's homeland—Mithral Hall!" The dark elf Drizzt introduced his companions to the group, though he was primarily speaking to Chen Jinyang. In this world, formidable strength was always the most direct means of earning respect.

Gosa, having stood down from his guard, asked in confusion, "Mithral Hall? Never heard of it! I've been roaming the North for over a decade, and I've never heard anyone mention such a place!" If an old mercenary like Gosa didn't know of it, then Chen Jinyang, who possessed only a superficial understanding of the world's common knowledge, certainly hadn't either.

Chen Jinyang asked, "Why were you traveling at night?" Even as a transmigrator ignorant of the world's ways, he knew the dangers of traveling the North after dark. He truly couldn't tell if these fellows were brave or just plain ignorant.

Regis, who was busy devouring the bread and broth left over from dinner, grumbled, "It's all that stinking dwarf Bruenor's fault! He insisted on traveling at night to reach the Harpell family in Longsaddle! Well, look at us now! We're so badly hurt that even if we were in a hurry, it wouldn't matter!" The dwarf, worried that his injuries would delay their journey, cursed the loose-lipped halfling loudly and angrily.

After learning the origins of Drizzt's party, Chen Jinyang turned to the elven girl who had been sitting nearby, watching the commotion. "Alafil, do you have any more healing potions?" "Hey! You hateful William! Do you think healing potions are like cabbages growing everywhere? That was my last bottle! It was all wasted because of you! Don't think I'll forgive you! Not unless you give me Mishaer's helmet!" The little elf jumped up, waving her small fists. She showed no trace of the terror she had felt when she first saw the Drow, though her intense reaction when she had woken up the second time had deeply wounded the fragile-hearted Drow.

"You could head to the temple in Mirabar. The priests at the Temple of Tyr can quickly heal the dwarf king's injuries. We are only two days' journey from Mirabar now." Despite his lingering wariness of the Drow, Gosa offered the suggestion.

Chen Jinyang also extended an invitation: "We are a caravan transporting grain from Longsaddle to Mirabar. You can travel with us." Drizzt, the only one among the four adventurers capable of making decisions, accepted the invitation and led the horses he had hidden nearby into the camp. As for the dwarf king, who was the only one to voice an objection, he was simply ignored.

After daybreak, the caravan resumed its journey. Chen Jinyang asked the expert swordsman about combat techniques. He examined Drizzt's magical scimitars, comparing them in his mind to the blades he had used in the past. They were undoubtedly fine weapons—sturdy, sharp, lightweight, and perfectly balanced. In terms of material, they were far superior to the alloy blades of his previous life, and they even possessed some strange, added abilities. However, to a true master of the blade, they were not ideal. The reason was simple: they lacked character. The smith who forged them did not understand the nature of the wielder; they were crafted from precious materials as generic, high-quality scimitars with special enchantments added on. Chen Jinyang looked at the scimitar called "Icingdeath" with a sense of regret; it was a waste of such excellent forging materials.

By the next day, his left foot no longer pained him, though he still walked with a slight limp. Chen Jinyang sparred with the Drow a few times. Each time, Drizzt would attack while Chen Jinyang defended from a stationary position, giving him a rough understanding of the Drow's combat style. Combined with the fighting methods of the mercenaries, Chen Jinyang concluded that Drizzt was undoubtedly a top-tier expert in this world—at least, that was his assessment.

Chen Jinyang discovered that the martial arts of this world followed an unconventional path, somewhat similar to the training method of the "Hundred-Defeats Old Man" from martial arts novels. There were no fixed forms; one first built a foundation in weapon handling, then sought out one's own shortcomings in every battle, absorbed the strengths of the opponent, and improved one's attack angles and methods. They relied on rich experience and improvised techniques to fight. It wasn't that this training method was bad—without fixed forms, one didn't have to worry about being studied and countered. If mastered, it could lead to a monstrous level of power. "No move is better than a move"—Dugu Qiubai was the classic representative of the pinnacle of this system.

However, reaching such a supreme state was incredibly difficult. Talent, perseverance, and opportunity were all essential. Throughout history, even in fictional novels, those who could reach this stage were few and far between. The rest either gave up or were hacked to death, let alone in the real world.

Drizzt was undoubtedly on the verge of this realm; at least, his handling of the scimitars had touched upon it. Chen Jinyang didn't know how he had achieved this, but if the Drow truly wanted to progress further, relying solely on the methods of this world would be impossible. It was as unlikely to succeed as a mortal trying to ignite a divine spark and ascend to godhood through his own strength alone.

In Chen Jinyang's view, the Drow swordsman had at least three major flaws that acted as the greatest obstacles to his blade work reaching the level of a grandmaster. First, his style favored dominance and momentum, prioritizing raw power. The Drow's physical strength was too low to fully unleash the domineering potential of his blade work. If his strength were increased by a few points, his combat effectiveness would surely double. Chen Jinyang felt that given his agility, practicing with a sword would have been more suitable.

Second, his stance was unstable, a problem of footwork. Though Drizzt was fast, he couldn't fully utilize his speed in combat. It was fine in one-on-one duels, but once he faced several opponents with similar movement speeds, he would have to retreat, even if his blade work was far superior to theirs.

Third was the issue of power-generation techniques. "Strength insufficient to win by technique" in Chinese martial arts didn't just refer to moves and tactics, but also to the methods of channeling and releasing force. If two people could both lift a hundred kilograms, an ordinary person might exert fifty kilograms of force in a punch, but a martial artist who understood the mechanics of power generation could inflict one hundred and fifty kilograms of damage. Drizzt usually relied on arm strength to swing his scimitars, sometimes using dashes, spins, or his body weight to enhance the force, but such methods were limited by terrain and timing. If Chen Jinyang and Drizzt were to use the same blade to slay a dragon, and both had identical physical stats, Drizzt might carve a foot-long wound, but if Chen Jinyang struck with his full power, he would surely cause the dragon to bleed out.

During their few spars, although Chen Jinyang was always on the defensive, every time he launched a counter, the Drow's rhythm was disrupted at the most uncomfortable moment, and his scimitars were knocked from his grasp. This was a massive blow to Drizzt, who had always taken pride in his superior combat skills, and left Regis and the others watching from the sidelines completely dumbfounded.

So, why was Chinese martial arts so strong? Where did that strength lie?

Chinese martial arts are divided into "training methods" and "combat methods." Training methods strengthen the body, while combat methods kill the enemy; both are indispensable. Training methods toughen the skin and flesh, strengthen the tendons and bones, and improve physical fitness. Combat methods focus on actual combat, attacking vital points, and destroying the enemy with ease. The so-called "cultivation of both internal and external" refers not only to the combination of internal and external boxing, but in reality, to the integration of the hardware of physical strength with the software of technique and experience, achieving the optimal state to strengthen oneself and defeat the enemy.

The saying "a chaotic flurry of punches can kill a master" is actually a reflection of how martial artists, constrained by social norms, dare not truly kill ordinary people, and thus end up being beaten to death by a mob. If one were to truly fight to the death, an unconventional style would never be a match for a practitioner of a legitimate system, unless they reached a certain level of mastery. Otherwise, the "Hundred-Defeats Old Man" wouldn't be the "Hundred-Defeats Old Man," but would have renamed himself the "Hundred-Victories Old Man."

The main enemies of the people of Faerun are monsters. These nearly inexhaustible monsters mostly rely on their physical assets to survive. Therefore, aside from the low-level assassins who target humans, the vast majority of warriors do not need profound techniques; they only need simple, practical tricks targeting the weaknesses of monsters and a wealth of experience.

On Earth, however, the alien species that could be killed in the wild had long since been wiped out, leaving humans to slaughter their own kind. Killing one-on-one, killing one-against-many, and eventually devolving into mass slaughter—that is war. To survive in the midst of such carnage, one had to be stronger and better at killing than others. Thus, humans studied the combat forms of those alien species that were naturally stronger than them, synthesized their strengths, and martial arts were born. "Master the literary and martial arts, and sell them to the Emperor's house." That is why those who practiced martial arts were stronger and better at killing than ordinary people, allowing them to stand out on the battlefield, enter the Emperor's favor, and earn titles and honors for their families.