Wing Chun Eight-Cutting Knives

Li Xiang left the Medicine Room and headed straight for the training hall.

It was the afternoon break. As the students he passed spotted him, their eyes inevitably settled on him.

Their gazes held a tangled mix of envy, jealousy, and teeth-grinding resentment.

"Holy shit... is that guy carrying a hammer in his pants?"

"He's going to see Senior Sister Ye with that thing sticking out? Is he going to practice martial arts or throw himself into the line of fire?"

"He's a madman... If Senior Sister Ye sees it, won't she chop that thing right off?"

The bird that stuck its head out got shot.

Sure enough, it paid to keep a low profile.

Li Xiang kept his eyes forward and walked quickly, not listening closely to what they said.

Once he entered the training hall, the heat eased a little.

Ye Qingyao had not arrived yet. Only Qin Zhong was there, stretching his legs to warm up.

Today's lesson covered the knife-clasping forms within Knife-Clasping Hand-Wrestling: the actual blade techniques.

When Qin Zhong saw Li Xiang, he smiled and started over to greet him. Halfway there, he stopped and looked Li Xiang up and down, his expression turning strange.

"Brother, look at you. Sharpening your spear before battle—even if it's no sharper, at least it shines."

Qin Zhong clicked his tongue in wonder. His gaze drifted down to the hem of Li Xiang's long robe, and his face cycled through a whole array of expressions.

No wonder the students had looked at him so strangely all the way from the Medicine Room to the training hall.

He felt as if he had died of embarrassment on the spot. He wanted to crawl into a crack in the floor.

Master Hong could have warned him instead of letting him make a fool of himself.

"Senior Brother Qin, let me explain. This isn't what I wanted..." Li Xiang covered his face, trying to explain.

"Brother, I get it. We're both men." Qin Zhong could not hold it in any longer and burst out laughing.

"Dragon-Tiger Bone-Tempering Soup has too many potent ingredients. Tiger bone, deer antler, seal kidney... It's normal for all that vigor to rush to your head."

"The first time I soaked in it, I was the same. I had to lie here with my backside in the air for a full hour before I dared face anyone."

Qin Zhong gave Li Xiang a look of brotherly pride. "When training's over, I'll take you to broaden your horizons. You'll be fine tomorrow."

Helpless, Li Xiang hurried to a corner, practiced his stance, and steadied his breathing, trying to calm the restless blood surging through him.

About the time it took to drink a cup of tea passed.

Li Xiang finally brought his surging blood under control, and the embarrassing Overlord Spear at last lowered its banner.

Another cup of tea's time passed before light footsteps sounded.

Ye Qingyao had arrived.

Today she wore a neater, close-fitting training outfit, her hair tied high. She looked every bit the dashing martial artist.

The moment she entered, she skipped any unnecessary talk and tossed the two cloth bundles she carried to Li Xiang and Qin Zhong.

"Catch. Those are real blades."

Li Xiang caught his bundle. It weighed heavily in his hands.

He opened it to find a pair of unusually shaped short knives.

Each blade was roughly as long as its wielder's forearm, with a tip that did not extend past the elbow. The guards bore distinctive hooks, clearly designed to catch an opponent's weapon.

The front edges were ground to sharp points for thrusting, while the rear edges were thick and heavy, suited to chopping and blocking.

These were Wing Chun Eight-Cutting Knives. The pair were identical in size, and when separated, they resembled a butterfly's wings. Hence their common name: butterfly knives.

"To learn blade work, you need real blades. You won't build real skill with fakes."

Ye Qingyao drew her own pair of Eight-Cutting Knives from her waist. They gleamed coldly, unmistakably sharpened.

"Wooden knives may be safe, but they don't have that heavy weight in your hands or the sense of danger that comes from a blade beside you. Only when you're holding something that can kill will your nerves truly go taut."

Her gaze swept over them both, her expression grave.

"Before you practice the knives, you need to know where the Wing Chun Eight-Cutting Knives came from."

"That way, you can trace your roots and honor your forebears. When you travel the martial world and someone asks who taught you and who founded your school, you won't draw a blank on every question."

"Forgetting your forebears is a grave failing. If word gets out, it'll break your backbone, and your fellow martial artists will laugh at you for the rest of your life."

Li Xiang asked, "Senior Sister Ye, who founded the Wing Chun Eight-Cutting Knives?"

Ye Qingyao brought her two knives together and said solemnly, "The Wing Chun Eight-Cutting Knives are a blade art founded on Wing Chun. Wing Chun originated in the final years of the Wu Dynasty. Its founder's surname was Liang."

"Grandmaster Liang began learning martial arts at fifteen. At eighteen, he became a martial performer in a theater troupe, where he learned boat-poling techniques and the Shaolin Six-and-a-Half-Point Staff Method."

"He drew on the strengths of a hundred schools, taking the essence of three knife forms, six staff forms, and twelve fist forms. With the advanced principle of defending and striking as one, he simplified and combined them into fist forms such as Little Idea, Seeking the Bridge, Thrusting Fingers, and Wooden Dummy Form. He then named the art Wing Chun."

"Grandmaster Liang knew how common people suffered. It was the end of the Wu Dynasty, and he hoped martial arts could strengthen their bodies and help them defend their homes and country. So, building on Wing Chun's principles and the cleavers commonly used by local farmers, he created the Wing Chun Eight-Cutting Knives."

With that, she clasped her hands around the pair of Eight-Cutting Knives, raised them above her head, and bowed deeply, her expression solemn.

"This bow honors Grandmaster Liang for creating the art."

Watching Ye Qingyao, Li Xiang felt a stir of emotion.

As for why they did not keep dropping to their knees and kowtowing as people did in the Demon Dynasty—

The answer was simple. Ever since the Martial Ancestor, martial artists had lived by a rule.

Martial artists stood tall between heaven and earth. They knelt to neither the powerful nor ghosts and gods, trusting only their own fists.

If their knees went weak, their fists would follow.

Li Xiang and Qin Zhong exchanged a glance, then clasped their hands and bowed deeply as well.

"We honor Grandmaster Liang!"

Ye Qingyao straightened and continued, "Wing Chun has grown through the generations into a major school of martial arts. Its branches have spread far and wide, forming five main lineages.

"Remember this: our branch bears the name Ye."

Ye?

Li Xiang thought she must mean the Guangzhou Ye Family, his mother's family.

Before Li Xiang could think further, Ye Qingyao bowed deeply toward Guangzhou.

"This bow honors Grandmaster Ye for passing on the art."

"We honor Grandmaster Ye!" Li Xiang and Qin Zhong bowed with her again.

When Ye Qingyao straightened, she turned and looked at them both.

"There is one more bow: for instruction."

They understood at once.

"We honor Senior Sister Ye!"

The two bowed to Ye Qingyao together.

Creation, transmission, instruction.

Creation was the root, transmission the trunk, instruction the branches and leaves.

A person must not forget their roots; a martial artist must not forget where their art came from.

That was the rule, an iron law in every trade and the heart of keeping its traditions alive.

"Rise." Ye Qingyao nodded. "You've paid your respects sincerely. Now I'll teach you the Wing Chun Eight-Cutting Knives."

"The Wing Chun Eight-Cutting Knives consist of eight blade forms. Some schools may include flashy reverse-grip knife spins, but those are not modern forgeries. They're meant to look good in performances."

"A blade art meant to kill is plain and unadorned."

Holding a knife in each hand, Ye Qingyao sank slightly into the Character-Two Goat-Clamping Stance.

"Watch closely. First form: Guarding Knife!"

Her left knife guarded her chest while her right snapped outward to block, the crisp motion carrying a jarring force.

"Guarding Knife defends against high attacks. Break a straight strike with a horizontal one, defending and striking as one!"

"Second form: Spreading Knife!"

The blade turned over like a palm opening, concealing deadly intent.

"Spreading Knife guards the middle line and lets you slip inside your opponent's reach!"

"Third form: Pillow Knife..."

Ye Qingyao explained as she demonstrated.

She moved with astonishing speed. The two knives flitted through her hands like butterflies weaving among flowers, their cold glints carving savage arcs through the air.

Li Xiang watched her every movement intently.

Bone-Drawing, his Painter ability, and Reading People, his Fortune Teller trait, quietly came into play alongside his other professional abilities and traits.

In his eyes, Ye Qingyao's movements broke down into countless lines of muscular force.

The twist of her spine, the drive of her upper arms, the turn of her wrists... Every detail stood out clearly.

He did not rush to try the moves. Instead, he rehearsed them again and again in his mind, carving them into his bones.

After the demonstration, Ye Qingyao lowered her knives and stood still, breathing a little harder.

"Did you see that clearly? Now follow along. Learn the forms first, then how to put force behind them."

"Yes!"

Holding their knives, Li Xiang and Qin Zhong began to imitate her clumsily.

"Keep your wrists loose! Don't grip them like fire pokers!"

"Your centerline! Guard your centerline. Keep your knife tips aimed at your opponent's throat!"

Qingyao moved between them, occasionally tapping a misplaced limb with the backs of her knives.

She held nothing back in her teaching. She was a worthy instructor.

Time flew by amid the sweat.

The sun sank beyond the western hills, and the light in the training hall gradually dimmed.

"That's enough. Your forms are coming along."

Qingyao wiped the sweat from her brow and looked at Li Xiang. "Qin Zhong has a solid foundation, so we'll stop there for him today. Li Xiang, spar with me. I want to see whether you can use what you learned in a real fight."

"All right!"

Li Xiang drew a deep breath and tightened his grip on the Eight-Cutting Knives.

This time, the blades were real.

Qingyao would hold back, but the chill of facing a sharpened edge still sent his adrenaline surging.