Dao Qi Wu Zang Guan Guan: I became a Daoist Master in the 1990s

Chapter 44 The True Transmission of Xingyi
"Evil!"

Zhao Yue wiped his sweat, sat down panting, looked at Qi Yun who was breathing evenly and had clear eyes, and said with a helpless smile, "Is your Five Internal Organs Fist picky? My body is incompatible with it!"

After practicing for half a day, I felt nothing at all; it was more like pulling a plow with an ox—I felt completely uncomfortable.

Qi Yun was also a little embarrassed: "Brother Zhao, I really didn't mean to hide anything."

This kind of boxing requires patience and perseverance; it's a long-term process and can't be rushed.

Maybe... we really have to wait and see.

"I was just grumbling." Zhao Yue waved his hand, quite magnanimous. "Kung fu isn't something you can master so easily."

You're the freak!

He carefully examined Qi Yun, his eyes filled with surprise and admiration. "I only thought you were strong before, but now I realize that your muscles, bones, and blood have all been opened up by the Five Internal Organs Fist!"
The movements flow smoothly from one joint to the other, with the waist and stance working in unison, and the shoulders, elbows, hips, and knees all connected!

With sufficient capital, one can learn it quickly!
"It's clear that this Five Internal Organs Fist is truly powerful! In the end, I still got the better of you!"

He became more and more excited as he spoke, and slapped his thigh: "You've got the form from the practice method, and you've got the internal organ fist from the cultivation method. It's no weaker than my breathing and guiding method."

I'll teach you my secret weapon—the fighting style!

"In this way, you will have truly mastered the essence of Xingyi Quan!"

Zhao Yue stood up again, and the atmosphere in the private room suddenly changed.

He no longer demonstrates the complete punching routine, but breaks it down.

How to walk, step, and grind; how to move forward, backward, dodge, and sideways.

How to combine slashing and striking with the chopping fist, how to use the collapsing fist for close-range attacks, how to break through defenses and seize targets with the drilling fist, how to forcefully open and advance with the cannon fist, and how to integrate neutralizing and striking with the horizontal fist.

His hands were like knives and axes, his elbows like iron spears, and his shoulders and hips like battering rams. He moved swiftly and ruthlessly within a small space, each move aimed at the vulnerable parts of the human body—throat, eyes, ribs, groin, and joints.

It was no longer the solemn and ancient art of martial arts practice, but a deadly technique tinged with the smell of gunpowder, a simple and effective means of fighting to the death, honed through countless trials.

"Xingyi fighting style is without fancy moves, focusing on practical results."

You need to have sharp eyes, ruthless hands, and a cruel heart!
Hitting someone is as easy as walking; looking at someone is as insignificant as weeds!

Zhao Yue's voice was now sharp as ice, and his eyes shone with lightning speed, piercing the dimness of the carriage.

"Especially being ruthless is the key. Either don't take action at all, or if you do, don't have any other thoughts!"

As the saying goes, courage comes first, strength second, and martial arts skills third!

"Without courage, all martial arts skills are just for show!"

Qi Yun nodded repeatedly as he listened. Although Zhao Yue had appeared relaxed and carefree for some time, Qi Yun had personally experienced his ruthlessness.

Once we knew his identity, we immediately slammed on the brakes and started attacking him.

He ran out of the car and immediately pulled out a gun!

This left Qi Yun with absolutely no room to resist!

It is evident that Zhao Yue's martial arts philosophy is absolutely ingrained in his very being!
Zhao Yue then continued his explanation.

Every subtle twist of the muscles, every breath and the precise bite of fists and feet, was poured into Qi Yun's senses without reservation, imprinted in his eyes, struck in his ears, and etched into his heart.

Qi Yun watched with bated breath, his dormant blood and qi seemingly ignited by those fierce and cunning moves, surging and surging, silently simulating a collision between his muscles and bones.

He no longer merely traced the outline of the frame, but began to touch the cold killing intent behind the movements, capturing the subtle moment when the force erupted like a viper's tongue.

Following Zhao Yue's instructions, in the confined space of the carriage, he clumsily but with an almost devout focus, repeatedly demonstrating those short, ruthless, and vital strikes.

Time flies by amidst the clash of boxing principles and the understanding of power.

Outside the window, the lush, rolling mountains were left behind, transforming into the vast, earthy-yellow North China Plain.

The sky brightened and darkened, then brightened again, in rhythm with the wheels of the car.

Qi Yun was like a parched, cracked piece of land, greedily swallowing the martial arts essence that Zhao Yue poured out.

His naturally well-proportioned physique, coupled with the robust foundation of qi and blood honed through internal organ training, allowed him to grasp the basics of Xingyi Quan, a martial art akin to a killing technique, much faster than when he first practiced health cultivation methods. Although he was still a long way from being truly proficient and seasoned, his every move already subtly revealed a deep, restrained, and unassuming strength, like a blunt, unsheathed blade concealing a sharp edge within.

Two days later at dusk, the world outside the car window suddenly changed.

Vast stretches of gray, low, and densely packed buildings, like exposed mudflats after the tide has receded, are brutally cut apart by countless crisscrossing, cold-gleaming railway tracks.

The air began to fill with a thick, indescribable odor, a mixture of coal smoke, dust, and the distinctive, dense smell of a large, populated area.

The train's speed noticeably decreased, and each "clang...clang..." of wheel-rail collision felt particularly sluggish and heavy, carrying a sense of stagnation as it entered the heart of a behemoth.

Zhao Yue looked out the car window at the gray outline that gradually became clearer and larger than the twilight, and let out a long breath.

"We've arrived in the capital!"

Qi Yun also abruptly withdrew his gesturing hand, straightening his spine like a spear.

Despite the bumpy two-day, two-night car ride, I didn't feel tired at all. On the contrary, I was immersed in the fierce and powerful artistic conception of Xingyi Quan, which made my blood and qi surge, my eyes bright, and my spirit vigorous.

He gazed out the window.

The massive steel frame of the station cast a deep, heavy shadow in the dim twilight, like the ribs of a giant beast.

The platform was packed with a dense, dark mass of people, like a pot of boiling porridge.

"Woo—!" The ship's whistle let out a long, mournful wail, tearing through the stagnant twilight and announcing the end of the journey.

The car door swung open with a loud bang.

In an instant, a massive wave of sound, a mixture of countless voices, footsteps, luggage dragging, vendors' shouts, and distorted Beijing accents from loudspeakers, carrying with it the strong smells of sweat, cheap tobacco, instant noodle seasoning packets, the burnt sweetness of roasted sweet potatoes, as well as the smells of rust and engine oil, crashed in like a real tsunami!

Compared to the crowds at those quiet little stations in Guizhou and Yunnan provinces, the flow of people was like a babbling brook in a mountain stream, now flowing into a raging, turbid river.

Zhao Yue grabbed Qi Yun's forearm with a firm grip: "Stay close! Don't fall behind even a step! Be careful not to get swept away!"

His roar was as faint as a pebble thrown into a rapid current amidst the swirling din of voices.

Qi Yun was swept along by the surging crowd, unable to control his own momentum as he moved forward.

Underfoot is a terrazzo floor that has been worn down by years of footsteps, greasy and shiny, and even a little sticky.

The three large red Song typeface characters "京城站" hanging high above appear somewhat small and cramped under the pressure of the huge dome.

People were everywhere!
Migrant workers carrying huge red, white, and blue striped woven bags bulging with the words "urea" and "feed" printed on them, their dark faces etched with the marks of time, their eyes filled with a bewildering yet hopeful look.

A middle-aged man wearing a brand-new but stiffly tailored polyester or wool-polyester blend suit with droopy shoulders and an oversized collar, a bulging artificial leather briefcase tightly tucked under his arm, and a cautious expression.

There were also young people wearing tight-fitting bell-bottom jeans, flashy polyester shirts, and hair that was slicked back with cheap hair wax, each strand clearly defined, with the recklessness of a newborn calf in their eyes.

A group of girls walking together stood out conspicuously.

Tight leggings accentuate the leg lines, while the top is a brightly colored batwing shirt or a T-shirt printed with English words.

Their hair was either permed into an exaggeratedly voluminous "explosion" or tied into a high ponytail, swaying with their cheerful, chattering laughter.

His eyes held a swagger and nonchalance rarely seen in small towns.

A huge LED display screen with a green background and yellow characters, some pixels of which are already dim, scrolls with densely packed information about green train schedules.

The announcer broadcasted from a loudspeaker hanging high up, his voice clear and emotionless, but it was completely swallowed up by the boundless noise.

Zhao Yue noticed Qi Yun's mouth slightly open, his eyes quickly sweeping over the fashionable men and women with afros and leggings, as if he couldn't take it all in, and then turning to the silhouettes of the buildings that appeared unusually tall and blurred in the twilight outside the station building.

He grinned and said, "First time in the capital? You must be seeing things."

Qi Yun nodded vigorously, his eyes still capturing every new detail.

On the huge billboard, the bright orange Jianlibao can logo was almost blindingly bright.

Right next to it is a Yanwu brand audio advertisement that reads, "Yanwu, Yanwu, a song brings a piece of affection."

The woman in the picture, with her voluminous wavy hair and padded-shoulder suit dress, has a standard smile.

(End of this chapter)