Chen-Style Taiji

Night passed without incident, and the next day Lin Hai was woken by his alarm at eight-thirty.

After going through the sequential stages of sleepy-eyed, gradually waking up, unwilling to get up, and remembering important business, Lin Hai began to wash up, tidy himself, and get dressed.

By the time Lin Hai finished putting on his outfit for going out today, the time had reached nine-thirty. He checked the time and then stepped out, heading toward the clinic.

"Morning, Dr. Chen!" As soon as Lin Hai stepped into the clinic, he spotted Dr. Chen already wearing his white lab coat, though there were no patients in the clinic at this hour.

"Xiao Lin, you're here. Morning!" Dr. Chen greeted him with a smile.

"Dr. Chen, shall we officially get started today then? Should we go next door now, or..." Lin Hai asked.

"No rush. Patients here generally don't come this early. I usually take advantage of this time to practice my boxing and work out my body. Speaking of which, Xiao Lin, are you interested in Tai Chi?" Dr. Chen looked at Lin Hai.

"Tai Chi?" Lin Hai scratched his head and asked, "Which kind of Tai Chi? The set that uncles and aunties back home practice for exercise, or proper internal martial arts?"

Lin Hai still had some understanding of Tai Chi. On the surface, domestic Tai Chi could be roughly divided into two types: one was the Tai Chi used by uncles and aunties for exercise that Lin Hai mentioned, while the other was the Tai Chi internal martial art widely rumored to have originated from the immortal Zhang Sanfeng.

It subsequently gradually developed into multiple lineages such as Chen-Style, Yang-Style, Wu-Style, Wu-Style, and Sun-Style. Among them, the most famous ones were the Tai Chi passed down by the Chen and Yang families.

Dr. Chen chuckled and replied, "I didn't expect someone your age to know a bit about Tai Chi. Let me ask you, what is my surname?"

Lin Hai was stunned. Dr. Chen, right? What about it? Hm~? Chen?

Seeing him figure something out, Dr. Chen spoke directly, "It seems you've figured it out. That's right, Chen—Chen as in Chen-Style Taiji.

My name is Chen Bing. I am a direct disciple of Chen-Style Taiji. I came to New York in recent years, and relying on a bit of medical skill and some martial arts in my hands, I managed to gain a foothold here and become a clinic doctor.

However, what I truly want to do is still to spread our Chen-Style Taiji in the United States, and see if I can take on a few foreign disciples so that the Americans can also witness the outstanding traditional culture of our Huaxia."

Hearing this, Lin Hai could only feel a surge of deep respect. Dr. Chen Bing's ideal was undoubtedly lofty, yet also arduous.

Even though foreigners were very interested in Huaxia martial arts, it still couldn't offset the fact that the majority of them looked down on people of color. The social standing of yellow skin in America was just slightly better than black skin.

Moreover, Dr. Chen was all by himself, without a single relative or friend in New York. Even so, Dr. Chen still crossed oceans to come here wanting to realize his ideal. What kind of sentiment was this, how could one not feel deep respect?

Thinking up to this point, Lin Hai said sincerely, "Dr. Chen, you are truly amazing!"

Chen Bing waved his hand. "Whether it can succeed remains unknown. As for how specifically to do it, I'm still planning, otherwise I wouldn't still be cooped up in this clinic every day."

"All right, enough of that. Then are you willing to learn my Chen-Style Taiji from me?"

Of course Lin Hai was willing; this kind of matter was no different from a pie dropping from the sky. As a proper martial art, practicing Tai Chi well would at least give one some self-defense capability. If he, Lin Hai, were to seriously go to Chenjiagou, the birthplace of Chen-Style Taiji, to apprentice as a disciple, heaven knows how long it would take before he could study under a teacher like Chen Bing.

Thinking of this, Lin Hai immediately moved to drop to his knees and kowtow, only to be yanked to a halt by a firm grip from Dr. Chen.

He looked at Chen Bing in puzzlement. Chen Bing said, "No need for that, no need. Kneeling and kowtowing is what you do when you officially apprentice; we haven't reached that stage yet.

If you are willing to learn, then I will teach you. But whether you can learn it and comprehend it depends entirely on yourself. As the saying goes: the teacher leads you through the door, but cultivation is up to the individual. If you can't learn it, then naturally I cannot take you on as a disciple either."

So that was how it was. Lin Hai experienced a sudden burst of understanding, but he had confidence in himself. For one thing, he was still young—only sixteen years old this year.

Coupled with the fact that when that seven-colored essence previously repaired the wounds on his body, it also seemed to have very casually reinforced his physique.

Right, it was extremely casual, because Lin Hai felt that the seven-colored essence had simply strolled a round inside his body and then gone back.

Yet even so, his body seemed to have undergone reinforcement. Lin Hai felt that becoming Dr. Chen's pioneering senior disciple of Tai Chi in America definitely wouldn't be a problem.

"Understood, Te- Dr. Chen, I get it." Lin Hai's words were ringing and forceful.

Seeing that Lin Hai had no further questions, Chen Bing led him deeper into the clinic. After just a few steps, they arrived at the clinic's backyard—a very ordinary American-style small courtyard with an open space in the middle.

Chen Bing pointed. "This is where I usually practice my boxing. Let's go, we'll start." With that, he walked toward the open ground.

"Okay!" Lin Hai nodded and followed behind him.

"You can watch me perform it once first, get a feel for it, and see if you can get any sense from it, and then we'll start learning from the beginning." After Chen Bing finished speaking, Lin Hai nodded to indicate he understood.

When Chen Bing finished speaking, he closed his eyes and began to stand quietly. His figure at this moment was upright as a pine, his breathing gradually growing long and steady. With each inhalation and exhalation, his abdomen rose and fell slightly, deep and slow like the breath of a tortoise.

After adjusting his breath, Chen Bing slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, his eyes half-closed as his entire person seemed to fuse into one with this heaven and earth.

Wuji Stance. Chen Bing spoke, his tone bland, devoid of grief or joy, his feet naturally apart and shoulder-width apart. His knees were slightly bent, as if sitting yet not sitting.

His hands hung down, fingertips lightly touching the side seams of his trousers like willow branches brushing against water. This seemingly simple standing posture actually contained the essential requirement of Tai Chi: "centered, upright, comfortable, and relaxed."

Suddenly, his right foot slid outward by half a step, and his hands slowly rose from both sides as if cupping an invisible bright moon. Vajra Pounds Mortar! This was the opening form of the Chen-Style Taijiqan Old Frame First Routine.

One saw his right palm trace an arc to lift upward while his left palm pressed downward, his waist and hips sinking simultaneously as his whole body became like a fully drawn bow. This movement looked slow, but actually harbored explosive power, his sleeves snapping loudly in the morning wind.

Hah! With a short, sharp expulsion of breath, Chen Bing violently smashed his right fist downward and hoisted his left palm upward, his legs forming a bow stance.

This form was fierce and domineering, embodying precisely the characteristic of Chen-Style Taiji: "harboring hardness within softness." Wherever his fist tip reached, a crisp cracking sound actually rang out in the air—that was the explosive power of tendons and bones resonating together.

As he transitioned forms, Chen Bing's posture abruptly shifted. His right arm coiled like a spirit snake while his left palm drew a circle and pressed downward, his entire body turning toward the left side like flowing clouds and moving water.

Lazy Garment. This form took its meaning from ancient warriors casually straightening their robes; it looked casual at first glance, but actually concealed grappling techniques. His fingertips trembled slightly, as though internal energy was roaming through his meridians.

Six Sealing Four Closing. Chen Bing murmured softly, his hands tracing two intersecting arcs in front of his chest like pushing a millstone.

His movements grew slower and slower, yet gave one a continuous, unbreakable flow. Wherever his fingertips passed, even the air seemed to form minute vortices.

Suddenly, Chen Bing stepped down with his right foot and stamped the ground. With a muffled boom, the entire open courtyard seemed to tremble.

Single Whip! His left arm whipped out like a lash while his right hand formed a hook and pulled backward, his posture like an opened hard bow. This form was fiercely powerful, the sound of his sleeves breaking the air clearly audible.

Immediately following, his movements shifted back to gentle. White Crane Spreads Its Wings. Chen Bing's arms extended, his right leg standing on one foot while his left knee lifted, his whole person resembling a white crane spreading its wings, about to take flight.

His toes tapped the ground, appearing utterly weightless without kicking up even a single speck of dust. He maintained this posture for a full three breaths, his figure remaining motionless and displaying astonishing core strength.

Cloud Hands. These Cloud Hands flowed ceaselessly, his hands alternately drawing circles as if stirring the invisible essence between heaven and earth; High Pat on Horse! Chen Bing's posture thrust forward like a galloping steed, his right hand forming a blade to hack straight down, the fierce palm wind producing a whooshing sound.

His movements grew faster as well, the transition between forms like a surging river, accomplished in one go. A bead of sweat gradually seeped from Chen Bing's forehead, yet his breathing remained steady.

Finally, Chen Bing crossed his hands in front of his chest into a cross shape, slowly pressing them down to his dantian. Closing Form. He let out a long breath, white mist condensing in the air and then dissipating.

The entire routine of boxing forms was executed, taking precisely the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn. Fine beads of sweat oozed from his forehead, but his complexion was ruddy and his eyes shone brightly, clearly indicating that his qi and blood circulation was exceptionally smooth.

After standing quietly for about five seconds just as before, Chen Bing opened his mouth to speak: "True Tai Chi is actually not as slow as most people perceive it to be; it has a fast and fierce side, but it is neither used for contending nor for striving for supremacy. It is the wisdom left to us by our predecessors, hoping to teach us how to live in harmony with heaven and earth."

Lin Hai was already dumbstruck. Even with the memories of two lifetimes, he had never witnessed such a spectacle this closely—an existence who might be a Tai Chi grandmaster was performing authentic Tai Chi face-to-face for him.

That characteristic of combining hardness and softness; that philosophical thought of blending into nature and living in harmony with heaven and earth deeply made Lin Hai feel a shock to his soul.

After a long while, a somewhat dazed Lin Hai blurted out three words: "So—so awesome!" Lin Hai had imagined Tai Chi might be quite impressive, but he never dreamed it would be this impressive.

The fist wind generated when Chen Bing was practicing just now scraped against Lin Hai's face, and he actually felt a stinging pain.

In fact, a little reflection made it clear: this was the Marvel Universe, not that former Age of Dharma Decline Earth.

In this world where magic and superpowers ran amok, and where even various divine entities existed, there was nothing strange about Tai Chi—an internal martial art—achieving such effects.

Chen Bing took it all in stride. Most people who had never seen real Tai Chi basically reacted this way after watching such a routine demonstration.

He patted Lin Hai. "Come on, show me, let me see how much you remembered. This relates to your talent; the better the talent, naturally the faster you learn. If your talent is poor, practicing hard can still get you to shape up a bit, but that will just require grinding it out with time. If you have no talent, then fortunately neither of us needs to waste this effort, and I'll save myself the trouble of teaching you."

Lin Hai nodded. Martial arts of course depended on talent as well, but to reiterate: Lin Hai had confidence in himself.

Are you kidding! As a transmigrator who possessed fortuitous encounters, could he be stumped by this bit of difficulty? If this little problem couldn't be resolved, Lin Hai wouldn't even have the face to hang out in the transmigration circles.

Not only that, Lin Hai was also planning to muscle his way into the various upcoming hero origin stories and major Marvel events. As the old saying goes: to smith iron, one's own body must be strong. If he didn't elevate his various personal capabilities, he couldn't even begin to think about these things.

Among them, the closest one was the Hulk's origin story.

However, that Hulk thing was too troublesome, and his current abilities were far from sufficient. Perhaps he could exert influence on Dr. Banner during subsequent contact, but for now, forget it.

Still, that Spider-Man, this four-hundred-pound aunt... now that was getting interesting!