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

As dawn broke, Chen Hongwu entered Guangzhou.

As soon as the city gate opened, vegetable vendors carrying loads of vegetables and street cleaners pushing manure carts crowded together inside the gate.

Chen Hongwu mingled into the crowd and entered the city, having turned his short jacket inside out before entering.

The outside was made of dark gray coarse cloth, which turned out to be indigo blue, and it was stained with a few dried mud spots. Walking down the street, he looked no different from a peasant who had just come from the countryside to visit relatives in the provincial capital.

He circled the city twice to find out the location of the governor's mansion.

The governor's mansion was located in the east of the city, occupying half a street.

There are two stone lions at the entrance, and behind the lions are machine gun emplacements made of sandbags, with the dark muzzles of two Maxim heavy machine guns pointing directly at the street.

The wall was covered with barbed wire, and there was a sentry post every three zhang (approximately 10 meters) on the top of the wall, where sentries with rifles walked back and forth.

Chen Hongwu ordered a pot of tea on the second floor of a teahouse across the street and sat there for an hour.

Within an hour, three shifts of guards changed at the entrance of the governor's mansion.

Each shift has twelve people, and during the handover, passwords are checked and weapons are counted, with no detail overlooked.

There are also patrol teams outside the wall, with six people in a group, patrolling in circles along the base of the wall. The routes of the two patrol teams intersect and overlap at the corners of the wall, so there are no blind spots.

Mo Laohu built the governor's mansion into a tortoise shell, with layers upon layers of defenses, from the main gate to the walls, from sentry posts to machine gun emplacements, leaving no gaps.

Even if Chen Hongwu could use his agility to scale the wall, the density of guards inside the wall would only be higher than outside.

In addition to the visible sentries, there must be hidden sentries, and in addition to the hidden sentries, there must be mobile sentries. The locations of these hidden and mobile sentries are completely invisible from outside the wall.

More importantly, there were those two Maxim guns. The Maxim heavy machine guns had a rate of fire of 600 rounds per minute, and the bullets sprayed out of the muzzle like water.

He hasn't trained his body to the point where he can withstand bullets. Let alone two Maxim guns firing at him in a crossfire, even if one gun is aimed directly at him, he'll be riddled with bullets.

Back in Sichuan, Zhang Xishan clashed with the Gelaohui (a secret society). He led more than thirty martial arts experts to storm the governor's mansion, hoping to use his agility to evade the gunmen's aim.

As a result, the other side only fired two shots, one to the leg and one to the head. Of the more than thirty people Zhang Xishan brought, twenty-seven were killed, and the rest were only spared because they ran fast.

A direct assault is suicidal, and so is infiltration.

After finishing the last sip of tea, Chen Hongwu placed two copper coins on the table, got up, and went downstairs.

He found an inn three streets away from the governor's mansion. The inn was small and narrow, sandwiched between a coffin shop and a funeral clothing shop. A faded sign hung above the door, which read "Yuelai Inn".

These secluded, inconspicuous little inns are perfect for hiding. The innkeeper, having seen countless travelers from all over, knows that it's better to mind your own business and never asks questions he shouldn't.

"Manager, give me a room."

The shopkeeper was an old man in his fifties, with a pipe in his mouth. He glanced at him, didn't ask any questions, took the deposit, and tossed him a copper key.

"The room is on the second floor. The room number is on the key. Find it yourself."

The room was at the far end of the second floor, with the window facing the alleyway. Below was a dead end, which could be reached by climbing out the window.

Don't stay in a hotel room facing the street, and don't sleep in a bed by the window. Always leave yourself a way out.

Chen Hongwu put away his belongings, sat on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes to rest, and waited for nightfall.

into the night.

Chen Hongwu opened his eyes, changed his clothes, climbed out of the back window of the inn, and landed in the back alley.

A curfew was imposed in Guangzhou after nightfall, and apart from patrolling soldiers and night watchmen, there were almost no pedestrians on the streets.

Chen Hongwu walked close to the shadows along the base of the wall, his feet making no sound as he stepped on the bluestone slabs.

When the ball of the foot lands, the force is contained and not released. The arch of the foot is like a spring that sucks the ground in. When stepping on pine needles, no mark is left. When stepping on stone slabs, no sound is made.

This is what Li Cunyi called "cat step" in "Lectures on Xingyi Quan". When a cat walks at night, the pads of its paws touch the ground first so as not to disturb its prey. People should also walk in the dark.

He walked through seven alleys and turned into an even narrower dead end. At the end of the alley was a wooden door with no sign, and a sliver of dim, yellow oil lamp light shone through the crack in the door.

Chen Hongwu knocked on the door three times, twice long and once short.

There was a three-second silence inside the door, then a hushed voice said, "Who is it?"

"Boss Zhou sent me," Chen Hongwu reported, using the coded language used by the Guangdong Army.

The door opened a crack, and an eye peeked out from the crack.

The eye swept over Chen Hongwu, the pupils contracting slightly. The person inside the door clearly hadn't expected that the visitor wasn't an acquaintance.

"Who are you?" The voice from inside the door was even lower, filled with wariness.

Chen Hongwu did not answer, but instead slammed his palm down on the door. With a burst of internal force, the wooden latch behind the door was jolted out of the door frame.

The wooden door swung open inwards, and the person inside staggered backwards from the force of the push.

The room was dimly lit, with a wooden table, a chair, an oil lamp, and an open newspaper on the table.

A bed stood against the wall, its blankets neatly folded. Two boxes were piled in the corner, sealed with the merchant's seal, making it look like an ordinary warehouse.

The owner was a tall, thin man in his early thirties with a long, thin face and prominent cheekbones. He was wearing a worn-out gray cloth long gown with two buttons undone at the chest, revealing a white cloth undershirt underneath.

His attire resembled that of a merchant's accountant, but there was a thick layer of calluses on the web of his right hand and his index finger, clearly marks from years of handling guns.

The man reacted extremely quickly; the moment he staggered, his right hand reached behind his waist.

He had a revolver tucked into his waistband. The handle had been re-wrapped with leather strips soaked in grease, and the grip was larger than before, making it easier to draw the gun quickly.

He used a standard quick-draw maneuver, lifting the hem of his long shirt with his left hand while simultaneously reaching behind his waist with his right hand, his thumb gripping the hammer and pulling it back, his index finger sliding into the trigger guard.

He had practiced this move countless times; from lifting his shirt to firing the gun, it only took him less than a second.

But the person he met today was no ordinary person.

His right hand had just touched the gun handle, and before he could pull it out, Chen Hongwu was in front of him.

He reached out with his left hand, his five fingers gripping his right wrist, his thumb pressing on the radial artery on the inside of his wrist joint.

The thumb and four fingers exert force simultaneously, penetrating the skin and flesh to lock directly onto the wrist bone.

The spy's right hand lost all strength in an instant.

His five fingers unconsciously spread open, and the gun handle slid out of his palm. Chen Hongwu caught the revolver with his right hand, turned the muzzle, and pressed it against his chin.

"Don't move," Chen Hongwu said calmly.

With a gun pressed against his chin, the spy's Adam's apple bobbed, and a fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead.

But he didn't panic and lose his mind. His eyes were fixed on Chen Hongwu's face, as if trying to figure out where the other man came from.

"Which line are you on?" the spy asked in a hoarse voice. "The police department? The military police? Or Mo Laohu's men?"

Chen Hongwu shook his head, removed the gun from his chin, and slammed the revolver on the table with the butt pointing towards the spy.