Quickly conquer the martial arts world, and let your fists dominate the heavens!

The path down the mountain was the same as the one up the mountain; the stone slabs were damp, the mist in the bamboo forest hadn't completely dissipated, and dewdrops dripped from the tips of the leaves, hitting the lid of the camphor wood box with a pattering sound.

Chen Zhan felt it was strange to carry three large boxes, so he simply found a carrying pole, carried the boxes in front of him, and walked with the bamboo pole on his shoulders. The boxes on both ends didn't sway at all, and despite the weight of several hundred pounds on his shoulders, his steps were still light and brisk.

Ye Ningzhen followed behind, carrying a small box containing the Baguazhang manual. She deliberately hunched her shoulders as she walked, adopting the street-style gait she had practiced.

When we reached the foot of the mountain, we turned into the town.

The shop where I ate noodles on the way here has its door nailed shut. Four cedar planks are sealed horizontally with iron nails, and moss grows in the gaps. The signboard is still on the wall, but the top layer of red paper has been torn off by the wind, revealing the old price underneath.

The owner of the grocery store next door was sitting behind the counter, fiddling with his abacus, when he heard footsteps and looked up.

"Why is the noodle shop closed?" Chen Zhan stopped and asked.

The shop owner glanced at the nailed-down door panel: "My son was conscripted. The people who came the night before last didn't even say hello. The next day, the shop owner's wife packed up and went to hide in the countryside."

After saying that, he lowered his head and continued working on the abacus, the beads clanging loudly, unwilling to utter another word.

There are fewer people on the streets.

When I first came here, peddlers carrying loads filled half the street, shouting prices, hawking their wares, and squatting by the roadside waiting for business—it was bustling with activity. Now, you can only see two or three people every hundred steps, and everyone is walking quickly; no one is leisurely strolling around.

The curtain of the teahouse was half lifted, and no one was playing cards inside. Several tables were empty, and the owner was wiping the tables again and again.

The number of military police on patrol doubled, their rifles fixed with bayonets, and they walked along the street in groups of three. When they passed the teahouse, the shopkeeper paused for a moment, waiting for the footsteps to fade into the distance before continuing to wipe his hands.

The weather was muggy, and the wind carried a restless smell.

When we arrived at the Cao'e River, the ferry crossing where we had taken the covered boat had changed.

A dozen or so wooden boats were chained together, one end to the other, blocking the river. Machine guns were mounted on the bows of the boats, and ammunition boxes were covered with canvas. Two soldiers squatted on the gun rails, smoking, with their guns pointed at the opposite bank.

The ferry crossing was closed, the iron fence was pulled up, and a wooden sign was hung on it that read "Military Control, Ferry Service Suspended," the ink still wet.

There was a queue on the shore.

People were pushing carts, carrying bedding rolls, and women holding children with their arms around their chests. The children cried, but the women didn't comfort them; they just stared blankly at the river.

The line remained still, and no one knew when they would be allowed to pass. Some people squatted by the roadside eating cold steamed buns, while others chewed on grass roots and chatted idly.

"The fighting has broken out in the Central Plains. I heard that the entire division has been sent there."

"Where are we fighting?"

"What else could it be? Anyway, troops are being deployed in the south, all the trains have stopped, and the tracks are full of military trains."

Chen Zhan carried his load on a shoulder pole and walked past the crowd without stopping. Ye Ningzhen followed behind him, and the two of them walked through the queue and upstream along the riverbank.

After walking for more than ten miles, it was completely dark. There were no lights on the river, only the sound of rushing water in the darkness, and the reeds on both banks were being blown about by the wind.

The shallows were waist-deep in water.

Ye Ningzhen lifted the small box above her head, waded across the water, and stepped on the pebbles on the riverbed. The water rushed against her legs as she steadied herself and moved step by step towards the other side.

Chen Zhan carried three large boxes on one shoulder, and the boxes remained dry.

After crossing the river, we rested on the bank for a while, wrung out our shoes and socks, and continued walking.

The original plan was to travel north by train, but upon arriving at the station, I found that the situation had changed drastically.

The platform was crowded with people, mostly soldiers. Their uniforms were so dirty that their original color was unrecognizable, their collar insignia were crooked, and their leg wraps were loose. They sat on the ground in twos and threes, leaning against their backpacks and dozing off. Some people were curled up in the corner with their rifles, a gray cloth tied to the butt of their rifles. There were words on the cloth, but it was impossible to make out what they said, whether it was a unit number or a name.

Dozens of people lined up in front of the water tap at the end of the platform, their enamel mugs clanging and clattering. Soldiers and civilians were mixed together, none of them giving way to the others. After filling their mugs, they would squat down to drink.

An officer stood in front of the ticket window, slammed his fist on the table, and shouted that his troops needed to board the train, and the locals all made way.

The ticket seller pulled down the iron railing, turned off the lights, and let him bang on the door without making a sound.

A train came along, a boxcar, not even coming to a complete stop at the platform. The doors were closed, and people were huddled on the roof, their fingers gripping the iron ladder. The wind whipped up by the train as it passed the platform, swirling up bits of paper and cigarette butts on the ground.

If you can't squeeze in, there's no need to.

Ye Ningzhen drove around halfway through the town and rented a mule cart. The driver was a local farmer in his forties with sun-worn wrinkles on his face. He asked for ten silver dollars, but the cart had only cost three dollars when she arrived.

"The world has changed. You may have the life to make money, but you may not have the life to spend it." The driver took the silver dollar, blew on it, and put it into his belt.

The mule cart traveled north along the country road, avoiding the main road. The wheels bounced on the muddy road, and the camphor wood box bounced on the cart. Chen Zhan reached out and held it down.

After walking for a day and a half, we ran into another obstacle.

A narrow path was enclosed by a bamboo fence, and at the entrance of the path sat a long table. Behind the table sat a lieutenant, in his early twenties, with chapped lips and drooping eyelids. The wick of the kerosene lamp at the corner of the table was almost burned out, and the flame flickered.

Two soldiers leaned against the fence, rifles slung over their shoulders. As the mule cart approached, one of them reached out to stop it.

The adjutant who checked in here is gone; he's been replaced, and the defense zone has changed.

The lieutenant took the certificate of good citizenship and flipped through it, his fingers gripping the corner of the paper, his fingertips covered in mud. He glanced at the photo, then at Chen Zhan's face, but it didn't quite match, and he didn't bother to investigate further.

What's in the car?

"Old books, moving from the ancestral hall in the countryside." The soldier came over, lifted the lid of the box, rummaged through it a few times, and found the box full of old thread-bound books, in traditional Chinese characters, written vertically, not a single word of which could be understood. He grabbed a book, shook it, found no inner lining, threw it back, and patted the dust off his hands.

The lieutenant tossed the good citizen certificate back and waved for them to leave.

The mule cart passed the fence, its wheels rolling over a puddle of mud, splashing the lieutenant's trouser leg. He looked down, said nothing, and continued to doze off at the table.

Ye Ningzhen sat on the car floor and said in a low voice, "They've changed people."

Chen Zhan nodded, "Eighty percent of them are gone."

The further north you go, the more different the faces you see on the road become.

There were fewer stragglers and more militiamen. Young men carrying old rifles and with their leg wraps neatly tied, stood at the crossroads checking passes, calling out "Comrade" in a clear, loud voice—a completely different sight from the soldiers pointing guns at people at the southern checkpoints.

Slogans were painted on the earthen wall at the entrance of the village, in red with black characters: "Defend the Liberated Area" and "Joining the Army is Glorious". The ink was still fresh, and a few characters had run down.

On the threshing floor, military shoes and grain sacks were piled up. Members of the Women's Salvation Association sat on mats making shoes. The sound of hemp rope threading through the soles of the shoes was continuous. The finished shoes were stacked up to half a person's height.

Someone nearby was sorting grain. The weight on the scale made a clinking sound as it hit the scale beam. They called out a number and wrote it down in a notebook.

As the mule cart entered the village, Ye Ningzhen jumped off. Just as her feet touched the ground, a female cadre in her thirties standing by the threshing floor looked up, glanced at her, and dropped the shoe sole she was holding to the ground.

She recognized Ye Ningzhen immediately. Although they had known each other for a long time and her face was different, her figure and temperament were unique. Ye Ningzhen had worked on the covert front for more than ten years and had handled the transfer of all personnel from three intelligence lines. She had saved the lives of more than a dozen people.

The people who were evacuated were scattered in various liberated areas. News spread quickly, and since her disappearance had been reported to the higher authorities, everyone thought she had been killed in action.

The female cadre ran over, grabbed her wrist, and said with tears in her eyes, "Comrade Ye, you're back! We all thought you were missing."

Before he could finish speaking, several more people gathered around. Some saluted, while others simply stood at a distance, watched for a while, and then nodded.

Comrades from the district committee arrived quickly, led the way, and arranged accommodations. Along the way, people kept greeting him, some he knew and some he didn't, but everyone knew the weight of the name "Comrade Ye".

Ye Ningzhen was surrounded and left. She exchanged a few words with Chen Zhan, but Chen Zhan did not want to reveal his identity, so he went to the military compound alone.

Chen Zhan walked to the gate of the camp, put down his load, and saw a person squatting at the gate.

He wore a short jacket, leggings, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. In his hand, he held a short stick that had been polished until it shone, and he was rubbing the end of the stick with sand and gravel, scrubbing it very carefully.

Chen Li.

He retreated with his brothers from the Sanshui Gang. When they arrived in the liberated area, they were incorporated into the local armed forces and served as instructors in the militia company, teaching boxing.

He led training sessions during the day and added an extra hour of his own study time each night.

Hearing footsteps, he stood up and glanced at the person behind him.

stunned for a moment.

Chen Zhan put his carrying pole on the ground, his top hat covering half his face. His appearance was that of someone who had been disguised; his bone structure had changed, his cheekbones were higher, and no one could recognize him.

But Chen Li recognized it.

"Master?"

Chen Zhan removed his top hat, activated his internal energy, and his facial bones returned to their original positions, his cheekbones fell back, and his eyebrows and eyes returned to normal.

Chen Li stood at the door, lost in thought. He had met his master once in Shanghai, in a hurried late-night meeting. His master had said a few words and left quickly.

Now, standing face to face in the sunlight, he didn't know what to say.

Chen Zhan looked him up and down, then patted him on the shoulder: "Why be so sentimental? How's your boxing practice going?"

Chen Li bit his lip and nodded vigorously, "I'm practicing, I practice every day."

Chen Zhan didn't say much, patted him on the back, turned around, picked up the load, and went into the courtyard. Chen Li stood there, watching his master's back as he walked into the courtyard, and it took him a long time to take a step and follow.

Three mud houses, a jujube tree in the courtyard, and a threshing ground outside the wall. During the day, the sound of threshing grain and the slogans for morning exercises rang out alternately. As soon as it got dark, it became quiet, with only the chirping of insects and the sound of sentries changing shifts in the distance, crushing tree branches.

Three camphor wood chests were moved into the west room. After opening the chests, Chen Zhan categorized the contents according to different sects: boxing manuals were categorized into boxing manuals, alchemy manuals into alchemy manuals, and internal energy cultivation manuals were stacked separately, filling half the room.

Lu Shouyi's notebook was placed in the most convenient spot on the table.

After putting his things away, Chen Zhan led Chen Li back to the courtyard: "Little fox, it's been more than ten years since I last saw you. Your skills have improved quite a bit. I didn't have a chance to test you last time, so let's have a go."

Chen Li certainly wouldn't miss this opportunity.

The two joined hands in the courtyard. Although Chen Li's progress was indeed very fast, he was still not even thirty years old, and his strength was worlds apart from Chen Zhan's.

The two worked together, with Chen Zhan mainly instructing him.

Chen Li specializes in Xingyi and Bajiquan, and his fighting style is fierce and powerful, which suits his personality. Therefore, he did not follow Ye Ningzhen to practice Bagua. His Bajiquan style comes from Li Jianwu, and he studied with Li Jianwu for a period of time ten years ago.

But now that he's working as a bodyguard and holds a high-ranking position, he no longer has time to mentor Chen Li.

However, now that Chen Zhan is back, he naturally doesn't need anyone's guidance.

And so, Chen Zhan settled down, sparring and giving pointers to Chen Li every day, and helping Ye Ningzhen heal her injuries at night. (End of Chapter)