Doomsday Cognition Guide

The true mastery of the "Square Inch Kill" technique—the fusion of jujitsu and boxing, the smooth rhythm of joint movements, the stable shifting of footwork, and the fascia elasticity beginning to take over from muscle power. The body transforms from wielding a stick into wielding a whip.

But he knew this was just the beginning. Whether the power of the "Square Inch Kill" could be further enhanced depended on internal force. Currently, the force of each strike was still acting on the surface of the wooden stake—the stake swayed and bent. If internal force was mastered, the high-frequency superposition of fascial elasticity would allow the force to penetrate the surface and explode internally. But that was for later. The joint linkage was now largely complete; the next step was to continue refining fascial elasticity, laying the foundation for internal force. Whether internal force could be used in actual combat remained to be seen, pending testing on zombies.

After practicing jujitsu and the "square-inch kill" technique alternately for more than ten days, he decided to go out and test it in actual combat.

He drove south along the highway to the nearest town. The shops on both sides of the street were wide open, their windows shattered. He drove along the main street without seeing a single zombie. Pushing open the doors of several shops, he found the shelves empty—not ransacked, but neatly emptied. There were fresh tire tracks on the ground, and several empty water bottles and compressed biscuit wrappers were scattered in the corners, all recently left behind.

Deputy Secretary Zhang had said that after clearing the main road through the county seat, the next step would be to clear out the surrounding towns. It seemed this plan had already begun. He then went to another small town nearby, and the situation was exactly the same—the streets were deserted, supplies were gone, and there were fresh tire tracks and footprints on the ground. Since the nearby towns had been cleared, he headed further afield, setting his sights on a town even more distant from the county seat, separated by several mountains; the search and rescue team probably hadn't arrived yet.

After driving for over an hour, he exited the highway and turned onto a county road. The road conditions were much worse than before; weeds grew in the cracks in the pavement, and several sections were half-blocked by abandoned vehicles. He parked the car on the side of the road, picked up his gun, and walked into the town. Turning a corner, he saw several armored vehicles of the armed police parked in the town square, and a dozen or so armed police officers and regular police officers in riot gear were clearing the streets. Several rescued survivors were squatting by the roadside, wrapped in blankets provided by the rescue team.

He walked a short distance forward, and an armed policeman on guard turned around and saw him. He was startled at first, then stood up straight. "Good morning, Instructor!" Several armed policemen and regular policemen around him turned around and nodded to greet him.

Li Xuan went over and spoke with the team leader about the situation. The zombie density in this town wasn't high, but they were scattered, and the search and rescue team was clearing them street by street. He didn't say much, picked up his gun, and joined the clearing operation.

On the streets of the town center, scattered zombies darted out from alleyways and broken windows. Li Xuan walked on the outer side, a pistol in his hand. A zombie vaulted out of a side window, lunging at his back. He didn't turn around; his toes lightly touched the ground, the elasticity of his fascia traveling from the soles of his feet to his hips, and he silently shifted half a meter to the left. The zombie missed its target, its claws grazing his clothes. He fired a shot with a backhand, the tip piercing behind the zombie's ear, and in the instant he pulled the gun out, he shifted half a meter to the right, just avoiding another zombie rushing out of an alleyway.

Several armed police officers who were finishing off the attackers were a beat slowed down upon seeing this. One of them nudged his teammate and whispered, "Did you see the instructor's movement just now? His feet barely moved, and his whole body just slid sideways." His teammate saw it too and shook his head: "Too fast, I didn't see it clearly."

The cleanup continued. Li Xuan demonstrated his "Square Inch Kill" movement technique again in front of a residential building. A zombie lunged out of the stairwell, but instead of retreating, he shifted his entire body backward by nearly a meter—not by jumping, but by lightly touching the ground with his toes. The elasticity of his fascia propelled his entire body, as if pulled by something, silently sliding backward. After missing its target, the zombie staggered forward two steps. Li Xuan then thrust his knee upward, his hip joint springing up, engaging the fascia chain of his entire leg. His knee struck the zombie's jaw, sending its head flying backward and its body flying, crashing against the wall and sliding down, motionless. Immediately afterward, his elbow thrust horizontally into the temple of another zombie. His shoulder blade naturally loosened, his fascia snapped, and the force went straight in. These movements were all zero-distance power generation, without any preparatory action, with minimal range of motion, yet immense power. The surrounding armed police and regular police all stopped what they were doing, watching in stunned silence.

As the column advanced again, several armed police officers and regular police approached. A young armed police officer wiped the dirt from his face and asked, "Instructor, could you teach us that movement you just did—the one where you just lightly touch your toes to move sideways?"

Li Xuan glanced at him. "Learn everything I taught you before, practice to the level I demonstrated for you—steady stance, smooth power generation, and integrated internal energy—then you will be able to learn this set of boxing techniques."

The armed police officers exchanged glances. The instructor had demonstrated the whole-body power generation technique—fist against the sandbag, a twist of the waist and hips, sending the sandbag flying half a meter. They'd practiced for so long, and even now, only Xiao Liu could make the sandbag bounce more than a foot; most of the others could only make it sway slightly. To reach the instructor's level, they didn't know how long they'd have to train.

Seeing the expressions on their faces, Li Xuan added, "Your foundation isn't strong enough yet; learning it now will only make you more prone to injury. This style of boxing relies on the elasticity of the fascia for movement. If you try to learn it before mastering the integrated power, your muscles will unconsciously tense up when you exert force, leading to minor strains or even fascia tears. But as long as you practice step by step, you'll learn it sooner or later."

He paused. "The fundamentals I taught you—standing meditation, power generation, and the transmission of integrated power—master these first. When you can generate power with your fists close to the sandbag and the sandbag flies backward, then come find me."

The young armed policeman who spoke first gripped the handle of his rifle and didn't ask any more questions. But during the subsequent cleanup, he unconsciously adjusted his posture each time he was on guard—knees slightly bent, feet gripping the ground, hips lowered. The other armed policemen and regular policemen also began to subtly change. During breaks, they no longer discussed how dangerous the zombies they had just encountered were, but rather how the instructor's side-stepping technique generated power—some said it was through the elasticity of the fascia in the hips, others said it was through the resonance between the toes and the ground. Although they couldn't replicate it yet, they were already pondering the principles of power generation. This shift from "learning techniques" to "learning principles" was precisely Li Xuan's original intention in teaching them stance training.

The entire cleanup operation lasted about two hours. As the team packed up, a middle-aged man who had been rescued was squatting by the roadside, draped in a blanket provided by the rescue team, clutching half a compressed biscuit in his hand. He kept looking at Li Xuan, and finally couldn't help but ask the armed police officer next to him, "Is this young man your instructor?"

The armed policeman wiped the dirt off his face and said casually, "Yes. They teach us martial arts."

The middle-aged man glanced at Li Xuan again, but said nothing more.

Li Xuan exchanged a few words with the captain of the search and rescue team, confirmed that the town had been cleared, then got into the off-road vehicle alone and drove into the mountains.

A few more weeks passed, and the weather grew colder each day. Li Xuan's routine became relatively fixed. He would practice at home for a day or two, then go hunting for a day. If he encountered a rescue team, he would join them, and afterwards, everyone would take what they needed. If he didn't encounter a rescue team, he would go to the towns and villages on his own, hunting zombies and scavenging for supplies, bringing back everything he could.

During this time, the first stage of the zombie's evolution was basically complete. Crystal cores, semi-transparent, the size of a date pit, and much harder than before, had grown in their brains. Every time Li Xuan killed a zombie, he would crouch down and use the tip of his knife to pry open the back of its head, picking out the crystal core and storing it away. A considerable pile had accumulated in the iron box in the corner of the storage room, but he still hadn't encountered a zombie with superpowers—the half-awakened lightning-type crystal core lay alone in his pocket, waiting for its kind.

A few weeks later, Deputy Secretary Zhang's voice came through the walkie-talkie.

"Comrade Li Xuan, the country attaches great importance to your report on martial arts. They've sent a video communication device and would like to invite you to the county to demonstrate the practical effects of martial arts and give a lecture to the experts. When would be a convenient time for you?"

Li Xuan gripped the walkie-talkie, remaining silent for a few seconds. He knew this day would come sooner or later. From the moment he taught the armed police how to stand in formation in the empty warehouse, from the moment he demonstrated the movement techniques of the Fangcun Kill during the search and rescue operation, he knew these actions would eventually attract attention. He just hadn't expected it to come so soon.

"Tomorrow morning," he said.

The next morning, he drove to the county town. The stadium area had already been cleared, and Deputy Secretary Zhang was waiting at the entrance, with several men in military uniforms standing beside him. One of them, a man in his forties, had a composed expression and looked at Li Xuan with a scrutinizing gaze. Li Xuan had three wooden stakes erected and a sandbag hung on them. A camera was mounted behind it, its red indicator light illuminated.

He walked to the center of the area and nodded. The people behind the camera fell silent at the same time.

The very first movement was enough to make one squint – his shoulders sank, and his entire body seemed to be pulled forward by some force, sliding outwards. It wasn't a step, nor a jump; his toes merely touched the ground lightly, and his body silently shifted to the side of the wooden stake. The instant his elbow struck, the upper half of the stake bent sharply backwards, but almost simultaneously, his body had already shifted to another angle, his fingers, fist, and palm striking the same point in a triple strike, the sound crisp like snapping wood, forming a short, sharp crack. With a flick of his knee, his body used the force of the impact to spring back, his toes touching the ground as he slid towards the next wooden stake.

The entire sequence of movements was fluid and seamless, without any unnecessary swaying. The body glided back and forth between the three wooden stakes, shoulders sinking as the body shifted to the other side; elbows retracting, knees rising; fingers pointing, heels already changing direction. Each movement seemed to be a natural progression from the next, linked seamlessly and almost without pause. To an outsider, it looked like he was dancing between the stakes—small in scale and with minimal steps, yet every part of his body moved in coordinated motion, his toes lightly touching the ground as he glided from one stake to another.

The three wooden stakes left clear dents where they had passed. The swaying was slight, but a creaking sound came from the bottom of the stakes, proving that the force had penetrated them. When he finished the last movement, he stood up straight, his breathing steady, and a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

Then he walked to the sandbag, placed his palm on it, twisted his waist and hips, and channeled all his strength from the soles of his feet to the palms. The sandbag swung backward half a foot, leaving a clear palm print on the canvas, bulging out in a circle, as if it had been hit from the back by a heavy hammer. It didn't break, but the palm print lingered for a long time.

The whole process took less than half a minute. Someone behind the camera whispered something.

Li Xuan turned to face the camera and began his explanation. He spoke with great restraint—only discussing the physical essence of martial arts training. He explained that whole-body power is rigid transmission, hidden power is flexible superposition, the role of fascial elasticity in power transmission, the principles of using a mid-frequency therapy device to assist in stance training and power generation, and the general division of Ming, An, and Hua Jin (manifest power, hidden power, and neutral power) and the training focus of each stage. He made no mention of the nature of the red mist, the relationship between supernatural abilities and martial arts, or the ultimate laws of cosmic vibration.

This content, on another timeline, was summarized after countless sacrifices in the mid-apocalyptic period. Ancient people described martial arts using esoteric terms like "refining essence into qi," which few truly understood. It wasn't until the nation invested heavily in research, using exercise physiology and neuroscience to deconstruct martial arts, that the physical essence behind those mysterious descriptions was discovered. The instruments used to aid in cultivation also began to be widely implemented around that time. Now, he's bringing this out ahead of time, striking a good balance—martial arts itself has thousands of years of history; he's simply retranslating its essence into modern language, avoiding much skepticism.

He specifically mentioned one person.

"The martial arts I learned were taught to me by an old soldier when I was in the army." His tone was casual. "That old soldier had participated in special forces training and was trained by the chief instructor at the time, Shi Hao. If you want to learn more about this system, you can ask Instructor Shi Hao. His research on martial arts training is more systematic than mine; I only learned the basics. The appearance of the red mist has generally enhanced people's physical fitness, making martial arts training much easier than before."

This was the explanation he had prepared long ago. It explained the origin of the cultivation method without revealing the extra memory. What Li Xuan wanted was for the country to prioritize Shi Hao early—to integrate him into the national system sooner, and to receive resources and support sooner. In that memory, Shi Hao carried humanity through the darkest era; this time, the country should pave the way for him ahead of time.

As for whether "Shi Hao" actually exists in this world, he wasn't sure yet; at least he was speaking colloquially. Whether it was Number 10, Shi Hao, or Shi Hao, he'd have to check with his superiors. After the demonstration, the middle-aged soldier came over and shook his hand.

"Comrade Li Xuan, the set of techniques you demonstrated is indeed very practical. We will organize experts to evaluate the methods of myofascial elasticity and mid-frequency therapy-assisted training as soon as possible. The promotion of traditional Chinese martial arts may require your subsequent cooperation in training and textbook writing."

"Sure. But if you want to learn this style of boxing, you must first build a solid foundation—stance training, power generation, and the transmission of integrated energy. If your foundation isn't strong, rushing to learn advanced techniques can lead to anything from muscle strains to fascia tears."

The middle-aged soldier glanced at him and made a few notes in his notebook.

After leaving the stadium, Li Xuan went to the supplies warehouse. Several abandoned motorcycles were piled up in a corner, covered in a layer of dust. He picked out two, one electric and one gasoline-powered, and had them loaded onto a pickup truck.

On the way back, he took out the lightning-type ability crystal core from his pocket—the one he'd dug out of the mutated zombie's brain at the substation. He'd kept it, not in a hurry to use it. The crystal core itself wasn't fully awakened, so its practical value wasn't high, but it could be crafted into a handy tool: an ability battery. After modifying those two motorcycles, they would become his doomsday vehicles, making it much more convenient to go anywhere in the future.