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

After the butler-like man left, Chen Hongwu was about to get up and leave.

Since Mo Laohu isn't coming, squatting down any longer is just a waste of time.

The governor's mansion has raised its alert level and launched a city-wide manhunt for the assassin. It's unlikely that Mo Laohu will leave the city again in the short term.

Finding another opportunity to assassinate him would likely be extremely difficult.

However, those who practice martial arts have no shortage of patience.

Just as he had this thought, voices came from the abbot's room.

The sound wasn't loud, but Chen Hongwu's ears twitched.

"Go and clean the third meditation room on the east side, change the bedding to new ones, and wipe the dust off the windowsill." The abbess paused, then added, "Have Huiming and Huijing bathe and change clothes tonight, comb their hair properly, and put on those two newly made monk robes."

The young nun responded and turned to leave.

Chen Hongwu suddenly stopped.

He squatted outside the back wall of the abbot's room, his body motionless, and glanced inside through a crack in the wall.

The abbess was an elderly nun in her sixties, with a face full of wrinkles. She looked kind and gentle, but her eyes were very shrewd. When she spoke, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly, giving her the composure of a madam.

wrong.

When the abbess was talking to the steward just now, she clearly said, "We'll come to worship Buddha after the warlord recovers from his injuries," and the steward also said, "He'll rest for a few days."

But if Mo Laohu was really injured and wouldn't come, why would the abbess have someone clean his room overnight?

Why specifically request that two young nuns bathe and change clothes?

Huiming and Huijing, Chen Hongwu had been squatting in the bamboo forest for the past two days, and had already recognized the faces of everyone in the nunnery.

Both nuns were in their early twenties, one with an oval face and the other with a heart-shaped face. They had fair skin and beautiful eyes and eyebrows, and were two of the youngest and prettiest nuns in Ciyun Nunnery.

She was also the object of Mo Laohu's pleasure.

Chen Hongwu narrowed his eyes and put his raised foot back down.

To test the waters.

These four words flashed through Chen Hongwu's mind.

This old fox is exceptionally cautious. He first sends someone to spread false information to test the waters, and only takes action after confirming it's safe. No wonder he's been able to hold onto his position as warlord in Guangdong for so many years; his shrewdness alone is beyond the reach of ordinary people.

Chen Hongwu suppressed his thoughts, hid himself again in the pile of bamboo leaves, and began to wait.

The following afternoon, sure enough, a flurry of footsteps echoed along the mountain path.

Chen Hongwu peered out through the bamboo leaves and saw a dozen soldiers in gray military uniforms file in, led by a man who looked like a platoon leader with a pistol tucked into his waistband. After entering the temple, they quickly dispersed and set up two light machine guns on either side of the temple gate, one pointed outward toward the mountain path and the other inward toward the main hall.

Four other people walked around the base of the wall and stood at each of the four corners of the courtyard.

The remaining soldiers were scattered between the main hall and the meditation rooms, standing in twos and threes, seemingly at random, but their positions blocked all the passages from the temple gate to the meditation rooms.

The platoon leader walked around the third room on the east side of the meditation room, checked the windows and door locks, and then stood at the door and said a few words to the soldiers behind him.

Two soldiers carried a heavy machine gun into the meditation room, set it up right next to the door, and pointed the muzzle directly at the door. The machine gunner squatted down, adjusted the ammunition belt for a while, aimed with his bare hands, and then nodded.

As evening approached, the roar of cars could be heard from the foot of the mountain.

The sound of the engine grew closer and closer, and then it stopped at the entrance of the temple.

Then came the sound of leather boots stepping on the stone slabs, the footsteps heavy and steady, the way a trained person would step when exerting force.

Land on the balls of your feet first, shift your weight to your heels, and take each step firmly, ready to unleash your power at any moment.

The temple gate was pushed open.

Standing at the door was a middle-aged man in a gray silk robe. He was short and stocky, with a round face, a mustache, and a shaved head that gleamed bluish in the moonlight.

Mo Laohu.

He walked along laughing, his voice rough and boisterous: "Master! Thank you for your help these past two days!"

The abbess came out to greet him, putting her palms together in a gesture of respect: "You are too kind, Commander. The meditation room has been prepared, and the vegetarian meal has been served."

Mo Laohu laughed heartily and waved his hand, "No rush, no rush, let those two little nuns come over and talk to me first."

As he spoke, two young nuns emerged from the dining hall, heads bowed, their faces flushed. Mo Laohu put his arm around each of their waists and led them into the meditation room.

"Go away! Get out of here. I don't need you guarding the door to the meditation room. I don't like people eavesdropping!" Mo Laohu paused as he entered the room and chased away the two armed soldiers standing guard at the door.

Chen Hongwu closed his eyes, his breathing became extremely slow and shallow, and his heart rate dropped from more than seventy beats per minute to about forty.

This isn't some mysterious internal energy cultivation method; it's the precise control of bodily functions that comes from mastering martial arts to a high level. A slower heartbeat slows blood flow, causing a slight drop in body temperature and reducing the amount of moisture exhaled, thus lowering the chances of being detected by hunting dogs or skilled practitioners with keen hearing.

Li Cunyi once said in "Lectures on Xingyi Quan": "Concealing one's form and hiding one's shadow does not mean hiding one's form, but rather hiding one's breath." Concealing one's form does not mean shrinking into a ball, but rather containing the outward emanations of breath, heartbeat, and body temperature, so that others cannot feel your presence.

They waited until it was completely dark.

One by one, the lights in Ciyun Nunnery went out, leaving only one ever-burning lamp in the main hall, its dim yellow light swaying slightly in the night breeze.

The sentries at the four corners of the courtyard wall remained motionless, while the machine gunner at the entrance of the main hall leaned against a sandbag, his eyes half-closed.

The bamboo leaves rustled in the night breeze, and occasionally the chirping of insects drifted over from the vegetable garden.

Chen Hongwu made a move.

He sat up from the pile of bamboo leaves, not rushing to stand. He sat on the ground for about ten breaths, allowing his blood to flow naturally and dispel the stiffness and numbness caused by prolonged stillness. Then he stood up, brushed the fallen leaves off his body, and crept along the edge of the bamboo grove towards the meditation room.

His steps were extremely light. When his feet landed, the arch of his foot would touch the ground first, and his weight would shift from his heel to his toes. He would make sure each step was firmly planted before lifting the next foot.

Sun Lutang said in "The True Meaning of Boxing": "Walking is like a cat walking, and stepping is like stepping on cotton." Xingyiquan footwork emphasizes lightness without floating and heaviness without stagnation. The feet must be rooted, but the root cannot be firmly planted.

If your feet are firmly planted, you'll be slow to change your moves; if your feet are too loose, your power will dissipate.

A true master walks so that he can step on tofu without breaking it, and leave footprints in the snow that are no deeper than three-tenths of an inch.

Chen Hongwu reached the back wall of the meditation room and squatted down.

"call--"

The windows of the meditation room were closed, but the window paper was new, and you could hear snoring coming from inside. Mo Laohu's snoring was heavy, his breathing uneven, and he would occasionally pause for a second or two, as if he were choking on something.

The two nuns were clearly asleep.

Chen Hongwu went around to the main entrance of the meditation room.

The door was a wooden door, newly coated with tung oil, and a sliver of light from an oil lamp shone through the crack. The bolt was made of iron and was bolted from the inside.

Chen Hongwu extended his right hand, placed his five fingers on the door crack, and positioned his palm against the door latch, then slowly applied force.

The hidden force emanated from his palm, passing through the door panel and onto the iron bolt.

The latch against the door frame loosened slightly from the vibration, making a very faint "click" sound, barely louder than a mouse gnawing on wood.

Chen Hongwu paused for a moment, waited a few breaths to make sure the people in the room hadn't been awakened, and then exerted his strength again.

With a sudden release and retraction of internal force, the iron bolt slid out of the door frame along the slot.

Chen Hongwu held the iron bolt in his palm to prevent it from falling to the ground and making a sound, and then gently placed the iron bolt on the threshold.

He reached out and pushed open the wooden door. The hinges turned, making a very faint creaking sound.

Chen Hongwu pried open the door a crack, his body sliding into the room like an eel, landing silently on the floor of the meditation room.

The moment he landed, his entire back suddenly tightened.

A chill ran down my spine, my scalp tingled, and my hair stood on end!

He was all too familiar with this feeling!

When someone points a gun at you, it feels like you're being pricked by needles on your back, and the back of your head feels cold. Your hair stands on end uncontrollably. This is an alertness that comes from practicing martial arts to the bone.

He glanced at it out of the corner of his eye.

Under the moonlight, a Madsen light machine gun was mounted in the center of the room, its muzzle pointing directly at him, the bolt gleaming with a cold, bluish metallic sheen in the moonlight.

"Da da da da!"

P.S. Something came up and I'm a bit delayed, so only one chapter for now. I'll update two more chapters around noon. Sorry about that.