There were two great homes of martial arts: Cangzhou in the north and Foshan in the south.
It was said that during the Late Qing and Early Republican Era, Foshan had caught the wave of Northern Fist spreading south. The traditions of the two regions merged, and martial schools sprang up everywhere. At its peak, sixty or seventy styles had opened schools here to teach disciples and spread their arts. Almost every household practiced martial arts.
Now, although decades had passed and the place had endured considerable turmoil, the enthusiasm for boxing and martial training had not diminished at all. Especially with economic development bringing increasingly plentiful food and clothing, the various boxing styles naturally flourished more by the day.
It was National Day, and the young roughnecks from the various martial schools had all followed their masters out to make an appearance. Amid a bustle of activity, most performed southern lion dances, traversed plum blossom poles, and plucked the greens while standing on their hands, displaying their schools' special skills.
But unlike the other schools, the Taiji Gate had actually erected a platform over twenty meters high outside its entrance. Beneath it, wooden poles crisscrossed, bound together with knotted ropes and stacked layer upon layer, all the way to a circular platform at the top.
More frightening still, there was no path up. Steel nails and iron plates covered all four sides of the wooden framework, leaving almost nowhere to set a foot. The only way to climb was along the ropes slanting down from the top.
Those ropes stabilized the fighting platform and were tied to several thick wooden stakes. Suspended taut in midair, their slant looked particularly treacherous, making spectators' hearts pound.
Everyone from the various schools who saw this fighting platform felt their eyelids twitch wildly,