Dao Qi Wu Zang Guan Guan: I became a Daoist Master in the 1990s

Chapter 42 Xingyi Quan

"749?"

Qi Yun's heart skipped a beat.

That code name of his was quite popular online in his previous life!
A rumored national agency that studies and manages mysterious events.

Later, it was made into a movie and became a joke, so the hype died down.

Unexpectedly, what we've run into is a real Buddha!

Judging from the cold and hard attitude emanating from Zhong Weiguo and his group, this 749 incident was by no means a trivial matter.

Ten minutes later, the engine roared as it tore through the rainy night, and Zhong Weiguo and his men headed straight for Guizhou Province.

Zhao Yue also arranged a room for Qi Yun, and then moved a wire bed into the room himself, grinning: "Brother Qi, I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable, but it's the rule, your brother will sleep with you."

Qi Yun was truly exhausted, so he didn't mind. He wrapped himself in his blue Taoist robe, pulled up the blanket, and fell asleep immediately.

A dreamless night.

When I opened my eyes again, it was broad daylight.

The room was chilly, a crisp air characteristic of Yunnan Province after an autumn rain.

Take a breath of the air outside the window; it's cool to the touch, carrying the fresh scent of grass, trees, and earth, as clean as if it's been washed.

One autumn rain brings a chill, and a cold draft lingers in the house.

Qi Yun sat up and saw that the wire bed opposite him was empty.

A sound came from inside the courtyard, solid and powerful.

Pushing open the door, I saw Zhao Yue practicing boxing in the courtyard.

The sky was grayish-white, and the wet ground reflected the light.

Qi Yun immediately recognized Zhao Yue's style of boxing as Xingyi Quan!
Zhao Yue stood in the Three-Body Stance, his spine undulating like a great dragon, his chest tucked in and back straight, his whole body like a taut, hard bow.

Get moving! The chopping fist is like an axe, the drilling fist is like lightning, the collapsing fist carries the wind, the cannon fist explodes, and the horizontal fist is like an iron chain blocking the river.

I've seen quite a few short videos about Qi Yun, the founder of Xingyi Quan.

But Zhao Yue's fist in front of me is different.

Simple and solid, every move carries a fierce power that can shatter stone and split rocks.

The white breath exhaled from his mouth and nose was thin and long like an arrow, condensing and not dissipating.

Qi Yun thought to himself, no wonder those moves in the train carriage yesterday were so powerful and forceful, far exceeding that of ordinary people. This Xingyi Quan has been mastered.

After Zhao Yue finished several rounds of punches, his whole body suddenly trembled, and his joints cracked like popping beans.

He slowly withdrew from his stance, exhaling a long breath of stale air, the white vapor shooting out a foot before dissipating.

He turned around, his face steaming with sweat, and laughed, "Awake? Look at my farming skills, how do they compare to your internal organ punches?"

"My stuff is purely for health preservation, without any offensive moves. It can't compare to Brother Zhao's real kung fu."

Zhao Yue wiped the sweat from his brow, a hint of smugness in his eyes: "Yesterday in the car, I couldn't really unleash my full potential!"

"I'm not bragging, but if we really get into a fight, no matter how strong you are, I can take you down in a few moves!"

"That's for sure," Qi Yun understood the implication and followed up, "My Five Internal Organs Fist is only for strengthening muscles and bones and having more strength. It's useless for anything else."

Zhao Yue raised an eyebrow: "Then shall we switch?"

"I'll teach you Xingyi, and you'll pass on the five internal organs to me?"

Qi Yun chuckled and said, "I'm still not even sure how to master this boxing technique myself, let alone teach others? Don't mislead Brother Zhao."

"Hey!" Zhao Yue shook his head, his smile tinged with inquiry. "You've got quite a few confusing things going on about you!"

A single sentence made Qi Yun feel somewhat embarrassed.

Zhao Yue suddenly sighed again, his smugness dissipating: "The world has changed. No matter how ruthless your kung fu is or how strong you are, what good is it?"
Ten or twenty years of hard work can't compare to a single peanut!

In the end, all that's left is to improve physical health.

He patted his side, where there was a bulge—it was a gun.

Qi Yun knew that the other party was still giving him a warning, telling him to behave himself on the road ahead!

He then followed up by asking, "So... what about magic? Captain Zhong lighting a cigarette with his bare hands last night really shocked me!"

"When we get to headquarters, they'll tell you what they need to tell you!"

Zhao Yue interrupted, waving his hand, "Come on, let's have something hot, and then we should get going."

Qi Yun lowered his head and tugged at his Taoist robe, frowning: "You're wearing this?"

Zhao Yue slapped his forehead, "Oops! I forgot about that!"

He looked Qi Yun up and down, grinned, "But you know what, this Taoist robe on you, tsk, that aloof and otherworldly air of yours, it's quite something!"

He turned and went into the low farmhouse. After rummaging through the drawers, he pulled out a worn navy blue polyester jacket and a pair of similarly faded work pants, and shoved them at Qi Yun: "Change into these."

Qi Yun took off his Taoist robe, carefully folded it, and put it into his bag before changing into this "casual attire." The fabric was stiff and chafed against his skin, and the size was slightly too big.

The two carried simple luggage, locked the courtyard gate, and walked into the small county town after the rain.

Last night's thorough rain washed this small town in southern Yunnan exceptionally clean.

The cobblestone streets were wet and reflected the sunlight, and the air was filled with a cool scent of earth, grass, and cooking smoke.

Along the street, breakfast stalls have already been set up, steam rising and voices gradually filling the quiet morning with vitality.

The two found a breakfast stall against the wall.

The wooden table was greasy and shiny, and the legs of the benches were covered in mud.

The stall owner was a nimble old woman with oil stains on her blue apron and a cloth strip tied around her waist. Her temples were gray, but she was still very energetic.

"Two bowls of thin bean noodles!" Zhao Yue greeted familiarly.

The old woman responded and deftly scooped out two bowls of thick, golden bean flour from the steaming copper pot. With a flick of her wrist, she evenly sprinkled chopped green coriander, bright red chili oil, and crispy fried dough sticks into the bowls.

In the bamboo basket next to it, layers of roasted rice cakes, slightly golden and bubbly on both sides, were stacked up. The rich aroma of rice mixed with the smell of charcoal fire wafted straight into one's nose.

Qi Yun picked up the large, rough porcelain bowl. The thin, hot bean paste was smooth and melted in his mouth, soothing him as he went down his throat.

With each crispy, crumbly piece of fried dough stick, the salty, fragrant, spicy, and hot flavors explode in your mouth, sending a warm sensation straight to your head.

After finishing the bowl, I felt a slight sweat on my forehead and a sense of comfort throughout my body.

As soon as he put down his bowl, Zhao Yue quickly flagged down a dilapidated yellow minibus that was slowly soliciting customers on the street.

The car had weathered many storms; large patches of yellow paint had peeled off, revealing the rust underneath, and wisps of pale blue smoke stubbornly rose from the gaps in the hood.

The driver was a dark-skinned, lean, and wiry man with a half-burnt cigarette dangling from his mouth, ash falling into the car.

"Passenger station! Two people!" Zhao Yue opened the car door.

The driver responded in a hoarse voice and stubbed out his cigarette.

The minibus, like a tired old ox, let out a muffled "putt-putt-putt" roar, and the vehicle shook violently a few times before reluctantly merging into the clear morning light of the small town after the rain.

Qi Yun leaned against the car window, the glass covered with a thin layer of oil and moisture.

Outside the window, the low brick and tile roofs were damp and dark, and water droplets dripped from the leaves of the tall sycamore trees along the road.

Villagers carrying bamboo shoulder poles hurried along, the heavy bamboo baskets at both ends creaking with each step. The crisp sound of bicycle bells jingled through the thin mist, breaking the tranquility of the street.

In the early morning of 1995 in a small county town in Yunnan, the fragrance of earth, the hustle and bustle of the city, and the damp vitality flowed vividly before my eyes, only to be left behind by the speeding "mian dong" (a type of minibus).

After a bumpy ride, the two squeezed onto a train bound for Jinji City at the Baihua County bus station, and boarded a green train heading north.

"Follow me!" Upon arriving at the train station, Zhao Yue, with a hint of barely perceptible smugness on his face, led Qi Yun without buying tickets, straight through the crowded and smelly throng, knocked on the door of an office, and showed his identification.

The man's eyes lit up immediately. He then returned the documents with both hands and led the two directly through the employee entrance to the car.

We arrived at a relatively quiet carriage in the middle of the train.

A train conductor was already waiting again.

A hint of respect flashed in the train's eyes as it opened the tightly closed compartment door: "Please come in, gentlemen."

My eyes suddenly opened up.

The small private room isolated us from all the noise and crowds outside.

The compartment contained two rows of facing lower bunks, the dark blue velvet fabric gleaming with a calm sheen under the overhead lights.

The artificial leather-covered backrest and armrests are thick and soft, and although there are slight signs of wear on the edges, they still look clean and tidy.

Above, there is a soft wall lamp and an adjustable reading lamp.

Inside the private room door was a full-length mirror, and in the corner was a small metal folding coffee table with a covered enamel tray containing two inverted glasses and a pot of hot water.

"Wow!" Zhao Yue stuffed his luggage under the bed, sank into the soft mattress, and sighed comfortably.

Qi Yun looked around at this "luxury" space with some curiosity, her fingertips tracing the smooth surface of the coffee table before pressing down on the thick, springy mattress beneath her.

"Brother Zhao, wait, how come there's a train to Beijing right after we arrived? Our luck is just too good!"

"Huh? What luck! This train was delayed by a full half hour just to wait for us!"

"What? This car was specially waiting for us?"

"How could it be fake? Local police can get away with this little bit of special privileges. It's nothing. We, 749, have a lot more power!"

Zhao Yue didn't care about this at all.

Qi Yun recalled that he had previously taken a train and worked up a sweat to finally snag a hard seat, waiting for quite some time.

Now trains would rather be late than not wait for them; the difference between the two is like night and day, and my feelings are extremely complicated.

Immediately, he took off his jacket and hung it up, then sat down on the soft bunk, just like Zhao Yue.

Outside the window, low hills, lush green rice paddies, and winding rivers rushed past.

(End of this chapter)