Half-human, half-ghost, the number one divine fist

Early morning in Songjiang City.

A black sedan drove along a dirt road on the outskirts of Songjiang, its body swaying slightly and kicking up a light dust.

Zheng Tingyuan leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes to rest.

He was over seventy years old, with white hair and beard, and a gaunt face. His gray cloth long gown had been washed until it was almost white, but the cuffs were clean and starched. His hands, resting on his knees, had large knuckles and thick calluses on the edges of his palms, like two old weapons that had been left unused for many years but were still sharp.

Qi Mingchuan sat beside him, his burly body taking up most of the back seat. He was nineteen years old this year, and he had mastered the Liuhequan (Six Harmonies Fist) technique. He was the first among the true disciples of this generation to touch the threshold of perfection.

At this moment, Qi Mingchuan was looking out the car window at the gray sky, his brows furrowed with impatience.

"Master Zheng," he began, his voice deep and resonant, "is your relationship with Old Master Mo Feihong really that good?"

Zheng Tingyuan opened his eyes, glanced at him, and then closed them again.

"yes."

Zheng Tingyuan's voice was not loud, but it was steady and clear.

"We spent some years together in Songjiang. We worked as dockworkers and guards for gangs. Although we didn't do each other any great favors, we've known each other for decades and have a bond."

Qi Mingchuan didn't speak, but his shoulders slumped slightly.

After a while, he spoke again: "Alright then. Just for one day."

After thinking for a moment, he added in a muffled voice, "I might have been able to improve my Liuhequan (Six Harmonies Fist) technique on this day."

Zheng Tingyuan did not respond.

Qi Mingchuan turned his head and looked at his master's expressionless face. He lowered his voice and said, "Master Zheng, someone from the Iron Sand Palm group has arrived. I've also heard about that guy surnamed Yuan. He's nineteen years old, has reached the Stone Skin Perfection stage, and his Iron Sand Palm skills are exceptional. He's already mastered it a long time ago, and might have already stepped into the threshold of Perfection."

"I'm not necessarily sure I can beat him."

Zheng Tingyuan opened his eyes and looked at the apprentice he had raised. His young face was filled with anxiety and a stubborn refusal to admit defeat.

"I know, but there's nothing I can do; favors are favors."

Qi Mingchuan looked dejected and somewhat unwilling, and lowered his head.

"It'll only be one day. We'll go over and give that kid a few pointers, have a meal with Mo Feihong, and then we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning."

"Alright, alright, when we get back, I'll break down that 'Turning Fist' move for you three more times."

Looking at Qi Mingchuan, Zheng Tingyuan showed a doting expression.

This kid is the hope of his Liuhequan sect.

The Liuhequan sect has few members, and its disciples are all elites. Qi Mingchuan is the elite among elites, having mastered Liuhequan by the age of nineteen.

In the future, there may be an opportunity to inherit the mantle of the sect leader.

"it is good."

Upon hearing that Teacher Zheng was willing to give him extra lessons after he returned, Qi Mingchuan looked up, his eyes brightening.

"Don't worry, Master Zheng. I won't let Liuhequan down at President Gu's birthday banquet in half a month."

Zheng Tingyuan looked at him, said nothing, and simply nodded slightly.

After half an hour.

The car stopped in front of the Mo Family Manor.

Zheng Tingyuan pushed open the car door and took his first step on the bluestone slab, where he saw Mo Feihong, who was already waiting at the gate.

The two old people looked at each other in the morning light.

Mo Feihong strode forward, grasped Zheng Tingyuan's hands with both of them, shook them vigorously, and remained silent for a long time.

Zheng Tingyuan let him hold his hand, a faint smile slowly appearing on his lips.

"You've lost weight," Mo Feihong said.

"Haha, you're getting old too."

Zheng Tingyuan sighed with regret.

The two looked at each other but said nothing more.

Then, Mo Feihong stepped aside to make way for the person behind him.

He first pointed to Mo Yiyi: "This is my granddaughter, Mo Yiyi. She has been practicing Tai Chi since she was a child. She has decent aptitude, but she is playful and has been stuck at the mid-stage of the Stone Skin realm."

Mo Yiyi stepped forward and bowed respectfully: "Hello, Grandpa Zheng."

Zheng Tingyuan glanced at her and nodded: "She has a good foundation."

Then Mo Feihong placed his palm on Lin Fusheng's shoulder.

He didn't say anything like "This is the child I told you about," nor did he say anything like "You've gone to so much trouble." He simply pushed Lin Fusheng forward gently, and the meaning was quite clear.

This is a request from an old friend.

Zheng Tingyuan's gaze fell on Lin Fusheng.

The boy was about seventeen or eighteen years old and rather thin. He stood beside Mo Feihong and cupped his hands in a respectful gesture.

"Hello, Mr. Zheng."

Zheng Tingyuan glanced at him for a couple of moments, then nodded. "Hmm, I've heard of you. Loyal and courageous, not bad, not bad."

Clearly, all Lin Fusheng left him with was his previous reputation for loyalty and righteousness; he didn't show any extraordinary courage or valor.

Zheng Tingyuan then withdrew his gaze, turned to Qi Mingchuan and said, "This is my disciple, Qi Mingchuan, a true disciple of the Liuhequan generation."

Mo Feihong's expression immediately became more serious.

True disciple.

These are seeds that have been carefully selected and cultivated by the sect at great expense and with countless resources.

It's not about following along to practice, but about nurturing someone as a successor to the mantle.

Such young people will at least reach the Bronze Bone realm in the future, and some may even reach the Mercury Blood realm, or even have the opportunity to break through to the Dark Force realm.

The way he looked at Qi Mingchuan now held him in higher regard.

After introducing their children and disciples to each other, they entered the courtyard and took their seats in the flower hall.

Mo Feihong prepared a family banquet; there were no outside guests.

The dishes are prepared in the local Songjiang style: braised pork, steamed mandarin fish, old hen soup, and a dish of thoroughly pickled vegetables.

Zheng Tingyuan picked up a piece of pickled vegetable with his chopsticks, chewed it slowly, and didn't say anything.

Mo Feihong was not in a hurry to speak.

The two elderly people finished their meal quietly.

After the meal, tea was served. Zheng Tingyuan put down his teacup and looked up at Lin Fusheng.

"I've eaten and drunk tea."

"This old man can't just eat and drink for free."

"Let's begin now."

Mo Feihong's eyes lit up immediately, and he quickly pulled Lin Fusheng up by the arm.

The group moved to the lawn in the courtyard.

Zheng Tingyuan stood in the center of the lawn, his hands behind his back.

The morning light filtered through the gaps in the ginkgo leaves, falling on his gray beard and hair, like a thin layer of gold dust.

He looked at Lin Fusheng among the crowd and said calmly, "I'll demonstrate a set of Liuhequan for you first. Watch carefully and try to understand it."

Lin Fusheng nodded.

He understands now.

This seems to be the surprise that Mr. Mo was talking about?

Liuhequan...

He actually has no shortage of visualization diagrams for Liuhequan (Six Harmonies Boxing).

Although Rong Chongming's Hundred-Refined Liuhequan could not compare to that of Master Zheng Tingyuan of the Liuhequan School, it was still quite remarkable. Later, Yan Shizhensui's Thousand-Refined Liuhequan further elevated his Liuhequan skills to the "pinnacle".

If this is the surprise that Master Mo was talking about, then... it seems that this surprise is rather ordinary.

But since it was Mr. Mo's good intention, Lin Fusheng still took it seriously.

Perhaps I can learn something from it?

Just then, Zheng Tingyuan made a move.

His movements were extremely slow, as slow as an old man stretching his limbs in the park in the early morning.

Sink your shoulders, drop your elbows, lift your head lightly, and keep your head upright.

Every movement unfolds smoothly and directly, without any deliberate force.

But at the very moment the first move, "Lazy Tying of Clothes," was completed.

The wind stopped.

Everyone on the lawn—Mo Feihong, Qi Mingchuan, and Mo Yiyi—held their breath.

This is not a trick.

That is the meaning.

The stance is still the same, the moves are still the same, but between each punch and each palm strike, there flows something indescribable.

Like a great river slowly flowing under the winter ice, its surface is calm, but its depths have been flowing continuously for centuries.

Mo Feihong stood under the corridor, his eyes growing brighter and brighter.

He knew Zheng Tingyuan was strong, but he didn't know he was this strong.

He no longer just "practices" this set of Liuhequan (Six Harmonies Fist), he has "lived" in it.

Qi Mingchuan stood not far away, his eyes fixed on his master's every move.

He had watched this set of boxing techniques countless times.

But today, he felt that every time was new. His master's wrist seemed to be lower, his waist and hips seemed to be heavier, and the point of force of the Bengquan (a type of fist) had shifted from the forearm to the elbow. Only a true disciple who had been immersed in it every day could capture those subtle changes.

He stared greedily, not daring to blink.

Mo Yiyi watched very carefully, after all, this was a rare opportunity.

Then Mo Yiyi secretly glanced at Lin Fusheng, wanting to see how well he had grasped the concepts.

Then, Mo Yiyi's expression changed.

Lin Fusheng was looking at Zheng Tingyuan, who was practicing boxing in the center of the lawn.

then.

Lin Fusheng frowned slightly.