Martial Arts Are Killing Techniques, Meant for Killing, Not Performance

"Three years."

Hong Tianbao held up three carrot-thick fingers and waved them before the crowd.

"I'll give you three years. During that time, I'll pour the Shocking Heron Martial Hall's finest medicinal baths and most authentic martial arts into you. Afterward, I'll choose the ten strongest students."

He paused, his knife-sharp gaze sweeping across every face, as though judging whose bones were hard and whose knees would buckle.

"Those ten will come with me to Tianjin."

A rich young man in a silk robe swallowed. "Master Hong, what... what are we going to Tianjin for? The International Martial Arts Tournament?"

Newspapers had been reporting that foreigners and warlords were organizing a World Martial Arts Tournament in Tianjin. Making an appearance there would bring honor to one's ancestors.

Hong Tianbao looked at him with a cold smile, three parts mockery and seven parts ruthlessness.

"A tournament? That's a show for monkeys."

He clasped his hands behind his back. The flesh on his broad frame shifted with the movement, yet he had the weight of a mountain.

"We're going there to challenge martial arts halls!"

The words struck every heart like a heavy hammer.

"Challenge... Martial arts halls?" The young man went pale.

Ignoring their fear, Hong Tianbao paced the platform and laid out a brutal rule of the martial world in a low, forceful voice.

"Tianjin is the martial arts capital of the North. Its waters run deep, and dragons and snakes mingle there. It has an unbreakable old rule: before an outsider can establish a hall, he must defeat ten reputable local halls. That's called challenging the halls, or paying respects at the mountain gate."

"Win, and you've proved your worth. The Tianjin Martial Association will respect you as a man, give you ground to stand on, and let you earn a living."

Hong Tianbao stopped. His gaze turned grim.

"Lose, and you pack your bedding and get out. But that's the easy outcome. Most times, once you've signed a Life-and-Death Agreement and stepped into the Arena, you leave your life there."

"The ground beneath Tianjin's arenas is full of outsiders' bones."

The crowd drew a collective breath. Several timid students felt their calves cramping.

Hong Tianbao sighed helplessly and patted his round belly.

"I may bear the title of Martial Laureate from the Former Dynasty, but I was born in Guangzhou and raised in the South. To those stubborn old men in Tianjin who won't let go of their ancestors' memorial tablets, I'm an outsider. A Southern Barbarian."

"By their rules, outsiders who want to found a school in Tianjin must bring disciples to fight. And those disciples must be locals from within Tianjin's bounds. It saves face for them to have locals standing up there."

Hong Tianbao raised his head, his eyes burning as he surveyed them.

"Linjiang County sits at Tianjin's sea outlet. It counts as Tianjin territory. Since you're from Riverside, you count as Tianjin people."

"That's why I came to Linjiang County to open a martial arts hall, waive your tuition, and teach you the real thing."

"I want one thing: in three years, you'll be my blades. You'll cut a bloody path for me and plant the Shocking Heron Martial Hall's signboard on a Tianjin street!"

It was a naked bargain.

I give you skills. You risk your lives for me.

"This road leads to heaven—or to Yellow Springs Road."

Hong Tianbao raised his voice. "Win, and you'll be Tianjin's new martial elite. Wealth and glory will be yours for the taking. Even warlord commanders will treat you as honored guests."

"Lose, and you might get away with broken arms and legs. Or your corpse might lie in the street with no one to collect it."

"That is my only condition."

At that moment, Hong Tianbao seemed an unshakable demon god.

"Once you enter the Shocking Heron Martial Hall and drink the apprenticeship tea, you lose the right to refuse."

"In three years, whoever I choose will come with me to Tianjin, even if the king of heaven himself shows up."

"If anyone gets scared of dying and tries to run before the fight..." He narrowed his eyes, killing intent spilling from him.

"I'll personally destroy his martial arts, break all four limbs, and throw him into the river for the fish!"

"If you want to leave, the gate is open. No one will stop you. If you want to stay, come pay respects to the founding master!"

Silence.

A deeper silence settled over the Training Ground.

Challenge halls in Tianjin? That's going there to gamble with our lives!

Tianjin was a place of hidden dragons and crouching tigers. Countless heroes had fallen there without so much as a sound.

"This... this is too dangerous."

"I'm done! What good are martial arts if I'm dead?"

At last, the crowd began to break apart.

"Master Hong, my... my family's calling me to dinner. I'll have to excuse myself."

The rich young man who had asked the question was first to lose his nerve. He fled with several servants in tow.

With someone leading the way, the others' resolve collapsed.

The wealthy sons who had come to get fit or acquire a little reputation ran faster than rabbits.

They had money and influence. They had no reason to risk their lives to learn martial arts.

Then some of the more timid commoners began leaving, too.

In the time it took an incense stick to burn, the crowd of over a hundred had thinned to fewer than thirty.

Most of those who remained were poor youths with bare feet and wolfish eyes.

They had known too much poverty to fear death. If risking their lives could win them a better future, they would do it.

Li Xiang stood where he was, unmoving.

He watched the fat man on the platform. He felt no fear; instead, he rapidly weighed the costs and benefits.

Three years.

For him, that was the perfect window.

He had the [Book of a Hundred Trades]. Once he found a way in, he could grind experience ten or a hundred times faster than ordinary people. Strength that took others years of hard work might take him only months to develop.

In three years, if he could unlock the relevant combat Profession and combine it with support from his other Professions, he was certain he could reach an astonishing level.

Most importantly, waiving tuition spared him two-thirds of the costs of medicinal baths, nourishing food, and worn-out weapons.

For Li Xiang, who had nothing, that solved his most pressing problem.

And he would get to learn real martial arts. It was an opportunity that came once in a thousand years.

As for the life-and-death match three years from now...

Li Xiang rubbed his nose.

If I'm stronger than this fat man by then, maybe the rules can change?

Seeing the twenty-odd people left below, Hong Tianbao smiled again.

"Good. Very good."

"Those who stayed have guts."

He turned and waved toward the closed doors of the main hall behind him. Drawing breath deep into his abdomen, he roared:

"Open the central doors! Welcome the Martial Ancestor!"

Creeeak—

The heavy vermilion doors slowly opened with a grating sound that set teeth on edge.

Li Xiang followed the others inside.

The hall was dim. At its center stood a purple-bronze statue half as tall as a man.

It was an unusual statue.

It depicted neither an ethereal immortal nor an imposing general, but a beggar in ragged clothes and straw sandals, trouser legs rolled to his knees, a dog-beating staff in his hand.

He laughed at the heavens, one hand pointing skyward and the other gripping his staff. Even cast in bronze, he radiated wild, unfettered spirit.

This was the legendary Wu Taizu, the Martial Beggar who had shattered the old order with his fists alone and trusted neither gods nor Buddhas—only his own fists.

Wu Taizu had reached the end of the martial path. He was the founding master, the spiritual emblem of all martial artists.

Even the Demon Dynasty's Martial Arts Prohibition Edict, issued on the grounds that "martial heroes break the law by force," had failed to extinguish the martial spirit. Instead, wave after wave of movements to revive martial arts had erupted.

In the end, the Demon Dynasty grew afraid. It had no choice but to repeal the edict and support martial artists of its own.

That split the martial world into North and South.

Tianjin, the martial arts capital of the North.

Guangzhou, the martial arts capital of the South.

"Repeat after me!"

Hong Tianbao's voice rang through the hall, shaking dust from the rafters.

"Today we enter the Shocking Heron Martial Hall, seeking neither eternal life nor riches!"

"We ask only that these fists can shatter injustice and defend the ground behind us!"

"Heaven above, let the Martial Ancestor bear witness!"

"Swear it!"

Amid the deafening oath, Li Xiang felt the sleeping Golden Cicada within him stir at their fierce resolve and tremble slightly.

After paying respects to the Martial Ancestor and drinking the apprenticeship tea, they were formally accepted as students.

Hong Tianbao wasted no words. He led them straight back to the Training Ground.

The sun blazed overhead, but he stood beneath it as though he felt nothing. His smile vanished, replaced by a Grandmaster's bearing.

"Now that you've entered, I have a few unpleasant things to say."

Hands behind his back, Hong Tianbao looked over their young faces. "You may have seen performers somersaulting onstage or street entertainers breaking stones on their chests. Forget all of that."

"Martial arts are killing techniques."

He spoke the words softly, but they were cold.

"They're for killing, not performing. Every punch needs a purpose; every kill begins somewhere. Using martial arts to put on a show and draw a crowd is monkey business. It breaks the rules and insults the craft."

"In this world, if you meet a demon or a bandit and your fists aren't hard enough, the prettiest stance in the world only serves you up on a platter."

Hong Tianbao walked to a stone lock and flicked it with his toe.

The stone lock weighed over a hundred pounds, yet it flew up like a ball. He caught it easily, as though it were a block of tofu.

"Beginners start with stance training. If you want to build high, you need solid foundations. An unsteady base and weak punches are just empty posturing."

"Starting today, you'll hold your stance for two two-hour periods every morning, without exception. If you can't keep it up, leave now."

Hong Tianbao assumed a deceptively simple stance. His feet gripped the earth like the roots of an ancient tree; his spine coiled like a dragon, and his breathing grew long and even.

"After stance training, you'll learn Taizu Long Fist. It's the foundation of a hundred fist arts. Most southern styles grew out of it. Its sweeping movements are ideal for tempering the body and opening the heart."

"Once you've made some progress with Taizu Long Fist, loosened your muscles and bones, and built up your vitality, I'll teach you the real thing."

Hong Tianbao suddenly turned toward Qin Zhong, who had been standing in a corner and had changed into training clothes.

"Qin Zhong, come up."

"Yes, Master Hong!"

Qin Zhong sprang forward and reached the platform in a few light, agile bounds. He clearly had real skill.

"Qin Zhong has trained with me for three months. He hasn't completed his training, but his foundations are good. Today, I'll show you what a real killing technique looks like."

Hong Tianbao removed his outer robe, revealing a white training shirt. His round body now seemed hard as steel.

"First: Hung Fist."

Hong Tianbao barked, "Qin Zhong, attack!"

"Forgive me, Master Hong!"

Qin Zhong did not hesitate. He drove off the ground and shot forward like a cannonball, throwing a powerful straight punch at Hong Tianbao's face.

Rather than retreat, Hong Tianbao stepped in. He gave a sharp shout and raised both arms.

Thud!

The dull impact sounded like two iron rods colliding.

"Hung Fist favors hard bridges and firm stances. You plant your feet and fight steadily."

Hong Tianbao explained as he countered Qin Zhong, his movements fierce and unstoppable.

"This is Crouching Tiger Fist. This is Tiger-Crane Double Form Fist. This is Iron Wire Fist. Your body becomes an iron tower, your arms steel whips. I could snap even a demon's claws!"

His arms swept through the air with a rumble like wind and thunder. Qin Zhong's blows landed as though striking an iron plate, numbing his own wrists with the recoil.

"Change of style: Form-Intent Fist!"

Hong Tianbao's whole bearing changed.

His steadiness vanished, replaced by a devastating sharpness.

"Half-Step Crushing Fist conquers the world!"

In the narrow space between them, his body snapped, power surging up the great dragon of his spine as he punched.

There was no flourish to it, only speed and force. Like an arrow loosed from the string, it drove straight toward Qin Zhong's chest.

Qin Zhong's face changed. He hastily crossed his arms to guard his chest.

Bang!

The blow drove Qin Zhong back three or four steps, his face flushed red.

"Form-Intent Fist turns spearwork into fistwork. With its Three Powers, Five Elements, and Twelve Forms, it takes the direct path. One strike to kill—no wasted motion!"

"Next, Eight Trigrams Fist!"

Hong Tianbao turned, moving like a dragon through water.

His straightforward style became elusive in an instant.

He circled Qin Zhong, stepping through the eight trigrams and striking unpredictably at blind spots beneath his ribs and behind his head.

"Circle in Eight Trigrams Fist. Avoid strength and strike weakness. Find an opening while moving, then settle the fight with one blow!"

Qin Zhong floundered. He could not touch the hem of Hong Tianbao's clothes, while several strikes left him baring his teeth in pain.

"And Wing Chun!"

Hong Tianbao stopped circling and slipped inside Qin Zhong's reach.

"Feel the bridge! Stick to his hands!"

His hands seemed to cling to Qin Zhong's arms. Power burst from inches away, and a crackling flurry of blows rained down on Qin Zhong, each punch striking a vital joint.

"Wing Chun controls the centerline. Close in, strike short, and beat the slow with speed!"

The new students stared, dazzled and dumbstruck.

Li Xiang had never imagined one person could master so many martial arts, much less bring every one of them to such a refined level.

That fat man was a walking treasury of martial arts!

On the platform, Qin Zhong had been beaten breathless and was drenched in sweat.

"Master... I can't go on. Let me rest..." Qin Zhong waved a hand in surrender.

"We're not done!"

Hong Tianbao dropped every stance.

He no longer took up any set position. Instead, he stood casually, like an ordinary man, feet slightly apart and hands hanging naturally at his sides. His body moved faintly with his breathing, like water without a fixed shape.

"Let me show you another new martial art."

A glint flashed through Hong Tianbao's eyes.

"This is Intercepting Fist."

"Intercepting Fist?" Everyone below the platform stared. None of them had ever heard the name.

"A Grandmaster who traveled far to the West to spread his teachings created this new boxing art. He cast off the shackles of traditional forms and wove in Daoist philosophy."

Hong Tianbao slowly raised a hand and assumed an extremely simple opening stance.

"He returned home a few years ago, and I had the good fortune to exchange a few moves with him. I learned only the barest basics, but they'll benefit me for life."

"Qin Zhong, attack with all the speed you have and your most vicious moves!"

Qin Zhong gritted his teeth. "Watch out, Master!"

With a roar, he threw every ounce of strength into a Sweeping Leg aimed at Hong Tianbao's legs, followed immediately by a Black Tiger Plucks the Heart. He was clearly going all out.

But just as Qin Zhong formed the thought and began his first move—

Hong Tianbao moved.

He moved second, yet struck first.

There was no warning, no gathering of strength. It was like a reflex.

Smack!

Hong Tianbao's foot struck the bone at the front of Qin Zhong's knee, cutting his Sweeping Leg short.

Then his fist shot out like lightning. Before Qin Zhong could launch Black Tiger Plucks the Heart, it stopped three inches from his throat.

Had that punch landed, Qin Zhong's Adam's apple would already have been crushed.

Silence.

A deathly silence fell over the crowd.

It had been too fast for their eyes to follow.

So that was Intercepting Fist?

"The way of Intercepting Fist lies in interception."

Hong Tianbao withdrew his fist and said calmly, "When the enemy does not move, I do not move. When the enemy is about to move, I move first. Be bound by no form. Take no fixed method as your method, and make the infinite finite."

"That's what I intend to teach you."

Hong Tianbao looked over the dazzled students below the platform. At last, his gaze settled on Li Xiang.

"Of all the martial arts under heaven, only speed cannot be broken. But speed doesn't mean rushing blindly. It means thinking fast and reacting fast."

"That's enough for today."

Hong Tianbao waved a hand, his beaming smile returning. "Qin Zhong, take them to collect their training clothes and arrange their rooms. Starting tomorrow, they rise at dawn every day to practice their standing stances. Anyone late goes without food."

With that, he clasped his hands behind his back and strolled toward the rear courtyard, leaving only an unfathomable figure behind.

Qin Zhong rubbed his swollen, reddened knee and limped down from the platform.

"Ow. The master really doesn't pull his punches..." he complained through gritted teeth, though his eyes brimmed with excitement.

He walked up to Li Xiang and patted him on the shoulder.

"Well? I told you coming here was the right choice. Those moves the master showed us were the real thing. Learn even one of them, and you could swagger through Linjiang County."

Li Xiang watched the direction in which Hong Tianbao had disappeared, his eyes gleaming.

"You certainly could."

"Let's go, Senior Brother Qin."

Li Xiang turned to Qin Zhong with a bright smile. "Take me to get my clothes, and tell me the trick to practicing those standing stances while we're at it."

"Ha, you asked the right man. See, with standing stances, the trick is to feel like you're about to piss, but not quite..."

In Hong Tianbao's private residence in the rear courtyard.

"Dad, you're really getting old... and you're not telling them the whole truth. You didn't tell them that winning means being expelled from Tianjin."

Ye Qingyao, the young woman with a long braid, sat in a chair, toying with an exquisite Eight-Cutting Knives blade. She watched Hong Tianbao as he came through the door.

Hong Tianbao's beaming face fell at once. He walked over helplessly and took the Eight-Cutting Knives blade from her hand.

"Go find your... mother. Tell her to make sturdier clothes for that new batch of brats."