Chinese martial arts: From being shot and killed by the armed police during a mountain search to bec

Four hands clasped together, frozen for a moment.

Huang Hansheng and Ip Man held their breath.

A true expert can tell a lot just by looking at their hand. The exchange between Wong Fei-hung and Chen Hung-wu seemed simple, with neither of them moving, but it was precisely this stillness that revealed the true contest.

There are three levels of sparring: The first level is a contest of strength, with both people's arms swinging back and forth, which is a test of the level of manifest strength. The second level is a hidden surge of power, where the arms remain still while the shoulders and elbows exert force subtly, like a turbulent current beneath the surface of water.

The third and most skillful level of cooperation involves two people whose arms remain completely still, yet their power has already penetrated into each other's bodies, probing each other's depths, much like two armies facing off, with scouts leading the way.

Chen Hongwu's palm rested on Huang Feihong's hand, his fingers slightly spread. His power originated from the Yongquan acupoint, passed over his knees, hips, waist, and shoulders, and finally emanated from the Laogong acupoint—a powerful, sinking force. This force was heavy, like an iron weight pressing down on his hand.

Huang Feihong's power originates from his heels and is a powerful, deep, and continuous force, like a deep well that becomes increasingly unfathomable the deeper one delves.

The two forces clashed and immediately withdrew, then simultaneously exchanged their forces.

Chen Hongwu's force shifted from a sinking motion to a spiraling motion, a technique characteristic of Chen-style Tai Chi. The force, like a silkworm spinning silk, coiled around the opponent's arm. Huang Feihong's force then changed accordingly, transforming from the "Two-Character Clamping Goat Stance" to the bridging force of Iron Wire Fist.

Hung Kuen's bridging style emphasizes "hard bridging and hard stance," with forearms as strong as iron, steadily supporting the silk-reeling energy with a combination of support and resistance.

The two men's arms did not move an inch, but the force they exerted had changed three or four times within a small space.

Suddenly, Wong Fei-hung added a layer of hidden force. This force emanated abruptly from his waist and hips, surged up his spine, paused slightly at his shoulder, and then exploded from under his elbow. This was the "elbow force" of Hung Kuen, which was not visible on the outside, but its internal power was astonishing.

Chen Hongwu felt a slight numbness in the palm of his hand.

Without making a sound, he raised the "supporting and embracing force" of Bajiquan, and his arm fascia tightened instantly, like a fully drawn bow, forcefully supporting Huang Feihong's elbow force.

The two exchanged a glance.

Huang Feihong withdrew his strength, and Chen Hongwu also withdrew his strength. The four hands slowly separated.

"Okay," Huang Feihong said, offering only one word.

Chen Hongwu nodded and said only one word: "Please."

The two sat down on the armchairs, and Huang Hansheng immediately stepped forward to pour tea. His movements were swift and skillful as the tea was poured into the cups, steam rising.

Ip Man pushed the door to the side hall open a crack and instructed the servants outside to bring in another pot of hot water.

Huang Feihong picked up his teacup, blew on the tea leaves floating on the rim, and suddenly said, "Master Chen, when we sparred just now, you used three different kinds of force. First, it was the sinking force of Bajiquan, then the silk-reeling force of Taijiquan, and finally the supporting force of Bajiquan."

He paused for a moment, then said, "Impressive skill! These three styles of energy come from two different schools, and you can switch between them in the instant you make contact without any hesitation. I am not as good as you."

Chen Hongwu picked up his teacup and said, "Master Huang, you're too kind. If you had added another 20% to the force of your elbow strike just now, I would have had no choice but to take it head-on."

"Add another 20%?" Wong Fei-hung chuckled. "Add another 20% and my back injury will flare up. Young people don't know their own strength. My old bones can't take this."

He patted his lower back as he spoke.

Chen Hongwu then noticed that Huang Feihong's sitting posture was different from that of ordinary people. His waist did not lean against the back of the chair, and his lumbar spine was always slightly protruding backward. This was a sitting posture he developed after his back injury, the purpose of which was to keep the stress on his lumbar spine in the optimal position at all times.

"Back injury?" Chen Hongwu asked.

"That happened in the 22nd year of the Guangxu Emperor's reign." Huang Feihong took a sip of tea. "That year, I got into a fight with a British sailor at the Hong Kong docks. He was incredibly strong. He grabbed my arm and threw me off balance. My back hit a mooring post, and I fractured my lumbar vertebrae. Since then, that injury has never fully healed."

He put down his teacup and said calmly, "When people get old, their muscles and bones loosen up, and all the old injuries come back to haunt them. The hidden injuries from fighting with others in your younger years, you don't feel them when you're young, but after fifty, they start to settle accounts with you one by one."

Chen Hongwu remained silent. He recalled the biographies of martial artists from the Republican era that he had read in his previous life. Huang Feihong had indeed suffered from a back injury that made it difficult for him to move around in his later years, and eventually died in Guangzhou at the age of seventy-seven.

Judging by the timeline, this elderly man in his early sixties has more than a decade to live.

"Master Huang has traveled all over the country for decades," Chen Hongwu changed the subject, "He must have met quite a few martial arts masters, right?"

Huang Feihong nodded.

He was silent for a moment, as if he was recalling something.

"In the thirteenth year of the Tongzhi reign, I had just turned eighteen when I accompanied my father, Huang Qiying, to Guangzhou to visit martial arts masters. I met Tieqiao San of the Shaolin Hung Clan," Huang Feihong said. "Tieqiao San was already over seventy years old at the time, and his arms were as strong as cast iron. When he put his arms on a table, the tenons of the wooden table would creak under the pressure of his arms. He told me, 'Feihong, the root of Hung Kuen lies in the bridge hand. If your bridge hand is not up to par, you will never be able to develop true kung fu.' I practiced the bridge hand for the rest of my life because of his words."

As Huang Feihong spoke, he extended his right forearm. The veins on his arm, which was over sixty years old, were bulging, and the fascia between his ulna and radius was so thick it looked like it was covered with a layer of beef tendon.

Chen Hongwu picked up the teapot and refilled Huang Feihong's tea.

"During the Guangxu era, I also met Guo Yunshen of Xingyi Quan," Huang Feihong continued. "Guo Yunshen was imprisoned at that time. When I visited him in prison, I talked with him through the bars for an hour. He said that he could only take half a step in prison, and he practiced Bengquan in that half-step space for three years."

"The Half-Step Crushing Fist has conquered seven provinces," Chen Hongwu interjected.

"Yes." Huang Feihong nodded. "Guo Yunshen told me that it's not about the quantity of punches, but the quality. If you can master the power within half a step, you can still strike even if you step out half a step. I later incorporated this into Hung Kuen, which is why I later created the Whirlwind Kick with a single tiger claw. The power path is the same as Beng Quan: short, crisp, and without any dragging."

Chen Hongwu picked up his teacup, lost in thought.

Huang Feihong then mentioned a few more names.

He met Li Cunyi, a swordsman from Tianjin, when the Chinese Martial Arts Association was founded. Li Cunyi demonstrated to him the essence of swordsmanship: "The sword is like a fierce tiger, the blade is like a flying phoenix."

The sword techniques and fist techniques of Xingyi are essentially the same thing. The sword is an extension of the hand, and the energy pathways are completely interconnected.

I met Li Shuwen, a Bajiquan master from Cangzhou, Hebei, once in Tianjin. Li Shuwen was not tall and was thin, but his "Tie Shan Kao" (a type of leaning strike) could break a jujube tree as thick as a bowl.

Huang Feihong said he had never sparred with Li Shuwen, but he had seen Li Shuwen practice his boxing. "When he threw a punch, the sound of the wind coming out of his sleeve was as crisp as a whip being lashed out."

As Chen Hongwu listened, a strange feeling arose in his heart.

Guo Yunshen, Li Cunyi, Li Shuwen, Dong Haichuan, Tieqiao San—he had read these names countless times in books from his previous life. He was intimately familiar with their lives through documents, biographies, documentaries, and controversial posts on forums.

But when Wong Fei-hung said it, it was a completely different story.

The book describes Guo Yunshen as having "mastered the Half-Step Bengquan across seven provinces," consisting of only eight characters. However, when Huang Feihong uttered these words, it was as if they had spent an hour discussing boxing principles across the prison bars. The five words, "It's not about the quantity of punches, but the quality," influenced another person's entire life in martial arts.

This contrast gave Chen Hongwu an inexplicable sense of dislocation. The words he had read so thoroughly in his previous life had now become living people, living in another person's memory, and being spoken by that person himself.

Ip Man sat down at some point, holding a cup of tea, listening intently.

"What about those from Foshan?" Chen Hongwu asked.

"Zhang Yan of Yongchun and Chen Huashun of Wing Chun," Huang Feihong said. "These two are top figures in Foshan. Zhang Yan's Yongchun emphasizes 'inch power breaking armor,' where a punch can hit a sandbag without breaking the outer surface, but shatter all the sand inside. Chen Huashun's Wing Chun is from the same generation as Ip Man's grandmaster. His Siu Nim Tao is the best; his hand movements are seamless."

He glanced at Ip Man as he spoke.

"There's another master, I wonder if Master Chen has heard of him?" Huang Feihong suddenly lowered his voice, "A descendant of Hong Xiuquan's remnants from Qinzhou, surnamed Liao, with a single character in his given name. His Hung Kuen style is inherited from the military martial arts of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's remnants. The moves are extremely concise, focusing on vital points, and are divided into 'Thirty-Six Killers of the Hung Kuen,' each move taking a life. It's not the same style as the Hung Kuen taught in ordinary martial arts schools."

Chen Hongwu's heart skipped a beat. There wasn't much information about Liao Si in the materials he had read; only a few words were mentioned, saying that he was a direct descendant of the Hongquan style of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, and later joined the revolutionaries in the south, where he died at the hands of the Qing army.

But the information about Liao Si that Huang Feihong heard was more detailed than any other source.

"Liao Si's boxing style doesn't care about aesthetics," Huang Feihong said. "I fought him once, and he used only short-range techniques. Every move was a chop to the throat, an elbow strike to the heart, and a knee strike to the groin. There were no feints or fancy moves. That was real combat style, where it's either you or me."

Chen Hongwu put down his teacup.

Where is this person now?

"I don't know." Huang Feihong shook his head. "He made a brief appearance in Guangzhou in the thirty-third year of the Guangxu Emperor's reign, and then there was no news of him. Some say he went to Southeast Asia, while others say he joined the revolutionaries."

Huang Feihong looked at Chen Hongwu and suddenly asked, "Master Chen, are you interested in this person?"