This ti, Zhou Qing demonstrated even more slowly, and he showed every combination of footwork paired with every palm technique. Eight steps, eight palms—sixty-four combinations in total.
Chen Wujun kept most of his attention fixed on Zhou Qing's back, carefully observing how the muscles there generated force.
Only after Zhou Qing finished the entire demonstration did Chen Wujun speak. "Master, your back looks like a dragon!"
"When you generate force, your spine snaps like a whip, and the muscles ripple in waves, transmitting power layer upon layer—like dragon scales opening and closing!"
Zhou Qing broke into a grin at those words.
"Well put. This thod of force generation is called Dragon Force."
"You've already learned that the body has five bows, but the body also contains two types of power. The first is the snap of the spine; the second is the twist of the waist and hips. Together, they're called the Dragon-Tiger Force."
"The old saying goes: 'three turns and nine rotations all co down to a single strike.' No matter how much you train, everything ultimately cos down to that one mont of force release. That is the true secret of martial arts!"
"The spine is both the body's bow and the great dragon. This is the most important part, and also the hardest to train. The easiest way to generate spinal force is through a 'whip crack' from the lower end—the tailbone. But when you generate force that way, the upper end of the spine—the cervical vertebrae—absorbs a trendous impact. The more you strike, the dizzier you get. Before your kung fu matures, you'll give yourself a concussion."
"The correct thod is to generate force from the thoracic spine—drawing the bow at the chest. The old boxing manuals say 'release through the chest,' and that's exactly what they an."
Chen Wujun listened with rapt fascination. Senior Brother Li had explained force generation many tis before, but never as plainly and intuitively as Master did.
He had already unified his body's strength into a single cohesive force, forged it into one integrated current of power. Yet compared to the way Zhou Qing's spine snapped and his muscles transmitted energy in layered waves, there was still a considerable gap.
Moreover, there were many areas where his understanding had been only half-ford—he knew what to practice, but not why he practiced it that way.
Now, hearing Zhou Qing's explanation, everything suddenly clicked into place.
"The stances you've trained before have already laid your foundation. You can gradually cultivate this Dragon Force during your regular practice."
"As for the Swimming Dragon Palm, it only has eight steps. The body movents are threading, piercing, twisting, and flipping—but really, it all cos down to one word: 'drilling.' Wherever there's an opening, you drill into it. Soone throws a punch—you drill under their armpit, into their chest, around their flank, behind their back..."
"Co, hit !"
At the command, Chen Wujun held nothing back. His body coiled into a bow, and he stepped forward with a strike.
But the instant Chen Wujun raised his hand, his vision blurred. Zhou Qing had already cradled his arm with one hand, slipped beneath his armpit, and erged on the other side—delivering a casual backhand slap to Chen Wujun's kidney area as he went.
"That's drilling. I just used a press palm on you," Zhou Qing called from behind him. "If it were soone close to your level of strength, one jab to your kidney like that and it'd be done for!"
Chen Wujun imagined an enemy drilling behind him like that and jabbing his kidney. Every hair on his body stood on end.
"The palm techniques are: threading palm, cleaving palm, lifting palm, press palm, flicking palm, sweeping palm, bursting palm, and raking palm..."
"When you combine the footwork, body movent, and palm techniques, the variations beco nearly endless..."
"Start by practicing on flat ground. Once you're comfortable, move to the wooden stakes! Once you can move steadily on the stakes, hang up the sandbags and train with those."
...
Chen Wujun picked up the eight steps and eight palm techniques of the Swimming Dragon Palm quickly enough.
After all, his foundation had been laid long ago. All he needed to focus on were the finer points.
In just a single afternoon, he had morized the entire set.
'The Swimming Dragon Palm moves in eight directions—I can't practice it on the rooftop parapet wall anymore. Fortunately, there are still the wooden stakes.'
On his way back, Chen Wujun walked and mulled over the Swimming Dragon Palm's footwork, replaying in his mind the day he'd watched Shark Jiu fight. A dim understanding began to take shape.
The mont soone makes a move, an opening appears. Where there's an opening, you drill through it.
The opponent extends a hand, and you're already behind them.
If their reactions are even a fraction too slow, one palm strike ends it all.
Just like that expert under Wen Long's command—a man who'd been cutting through the crowd with unstoppable montum. But when he t Shark Jiu, a single lifting palm caught him under the chin. His neck stretched unnaturally long, and he died on the spot.
Over the next few days, Chen Wujun practiced the Swimming Dragon Palm at the martial hall every day. To an outsider, he would have looked like he was simply walking in endless circles on the ground.
anwhile, splashes of red began appearing throughout the grimy, decaying Walled City. Even this lawless, neglected place was gradually filling with the festive atmosphere of the Lunar New Year.
Alongside the ever-present stench of rot, the air now carried the smoky fragrance of roasted ats and incense.
All of it revealed a kind of twisted vitality.
The streets of the Walled City were even filthier than usual, garbage strewn everywhere.
Many residents cleaned their hos and simply tossed the trash down through the lightwells. Every day, soone could be found standing in an alley, cursing furiously at the floors above.
"Ah Fei, set up two tables at the gambling den on New Year's Day. Business is business, but a al's still a al. You handle the arrangents... I'll be there around seven."
Chen Wujun spoke into his phone while gingerly picking his way through the garbage littering the ground.
"Shit!" he swore after hanging up, unable to help himself.
...
In a teahouse outside the Walled City, Master Bing toyed with a purple clay pixiu tea pet on the table, asking with studied indifference:
"Still haven't found him? Finding one degenerate gambler is harder than finding a murderer, apparently."
His subordinate broke into a sweat at those words.
"Master Bing, we've gotten word. That deadbeat gambler Hong apparently offended soone—got his legs broken. He's been holed up at ho recovering."
"Oh? Recovering at ho, is he? Those legs will heal eventually, won't they?"
"Even with broken legs, you can still send people to his ho to find him. These gamblers—cooped up that long, he won't be able to resist the itch."
"Master Bing, we've already gotten two people who know him well. As soon as his family's out, we'll go to his place!" the subordinate answered imdiately.
"Get it done. And be quick about it!" Master Bing gave a slight nod.
...
Ti flew, and before long it was New Year's Day.
That morning, Chen Wujun finished putting up spring couplets at ho, then headed to the martial hall to do the sa.
Senior Brother Li wasn't around—probably at Master's place.
When Chen Wujun returned ho, he found an extra person there.
Shu Fen.
Chen Wuqi was bouncing on the sofa watching cartoons.
The little girl stood in the corner wearing slightly worn clothes, clearly wanting to help with sothing, but their mother Huang izhen wouldn't let her. She could only stand there awkwardly, her two hands waging war against the hem of her shirt.
"Bro!" Chen Wuqi called out happily when he spotted his second brother.
"Shu Fen, what happened to your hands?" Chen Wujun noticed the cuts on Shu Fen's hands the mont he walked in.
Shu Fen glanced down at her own hands, then quickly hid them behind her back.
"That hag surnad Yu upstairs is an absolute piece of work. I kept wondering why soone that stingy would be so generous this ti, chipping in with everyone else," Huang izhen fud as she erged from the kitchen. She pulled Shu Fen's hands forward, revealing line after line of cracked, split skin. Her eyes brimd with heartache.
"She's been making Shu Fen do housework for her every day—twenty dollars a month! She's treating this child like slave labor!"
"Starting tomorrow, you're not going to work for her anymore, and we don't want her twenty dollars. Our family will cover it."
"Whatever she says, just ignore her."
"Is there anything else we're short on at ho?" Chen Wujun asked.
"We're out of wine. Go buy a couple bottles," Huang izhen replied offhandedly.
Chen Wujun turned and headed out, but instead of going to buy wine, he went straight upstairs. He stopped in front of one of the units and saw the outer iron gate was shut.
After a mont's thought, he headed back downstairs, dialing his phone as he walked.
"Ah Fei, get soone to bag up two loads of shit!"
"Boss Jun, who pissed you off? It's New Year's!" Ah Fei sounded bewildered. Throwing shit at soone's door on New Year's Day—you'd need so serious bad blood for that.
"Rember that degenerate gambler from before? The one who beat his wife to death? Left behind a daughter?"
Chen Wujun explained the situation.
"What kind of scum does that?! The girl's parents are both dead—that's miserable enough already—and they're still bullying a little kid like her! I'll have soone on it right away." Ah Fei thumped his chest in righteous indignation and guaranteed it would be handled.
After hanging up, Chen Wujun tossed the matter aside and went to buy wine as if nothing had happened.
Even at the very bottom of society, given the chance, so people will still find soone weaker to bully.
The ordinary neighbors in the Walled City were generally warm-hearted, but there was no shortage of people like that woman either.
He had known this for a long ti.
At five in the afternoon, every household in the Walled City was cheerfully sitting down for their New Year's dinner. No matter how exhausted daily life made them, this was the one mont they could relax and treat themselves.
The family living above Chen Wujun's—the husband surnad Wang, the wife surnad Yu—had two children of their own.
The dishes had just been set on the table when they heard a knock at the door.
The man walked over, puzzled, and pulled open the wooden door. Through the iron gate, he saw two young n he didn't recognize.
"Who are you looking for?"
"Your surna Wang? Your wife's surna Yu?" one of the young n asked.
Seeing the man nod, he grinned. "Then we've got the right place."
The two then reached into the bags they were carrying and produced two black plastic bags that reeked to high heaven. The man sensed sothing was wrong and lunged to close the door.
But one of the thugs had already shoved his arm through the iron gate's bars, holding the door open, while the other hurled the contents of the bags inside.
A putrid stench instantly engulfed the apartnt.
"What—what are you doing?!" The man's face turned green.
"Bullying a little girl with no parents—you people are the lowest kind of scum!"
"Consider this a lesson. Happy New Year—enjoy your al of shit!"
"Next ti, we break your legs!"
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