bookandnovel Chapter 42 Follow-up, please read on!
Chapter 42 Follow-up, please read on!
Zheng Yuanpei said, "Come with me," and then walked towards the backyard with his cane.
Fang Shuwen followed, passed through the short corridor, and suddenly the view opened up before him.
This backyard is more than three times larger than the Zhao family's martial arts training ground.
Three rows of wooden dummy posts are arranged in a staggered manner in the courtyard, and the posts are covered with fist marks and palm prints of varying depths.
The weapon rack was fully equipped with knives, spears, halberds, and two unusual weapons shaped like crescent moons.
A row of stone locks was stacked in the corner, the smallest of which weighed over a hundred pounds.
The largest one is as big as a water tank!
Zheng Yuanpei leaned his cane against a pillar, walked to the center of the courtyard, and turned around:
"What kind of boxing do you practice? Show me what you're doing."
Fang Shuwen walked into the courtyard and assumed the starting stance of the Tengshe Fist.
There's no point in hiding your strength when facing a powerhouse of this caliber.
His spine relaxed segment by segment, starting from the tailbone, and his whole body resembled a coiled snake.
He then twisted his waist and exerted force, the power exploding from his feet, winding up his waist and hips, and flowing into his right fist.
The fist pierced the air, traveling not in a straight line but in a strange arc.
Snake-like fangs thrust out.
The air was torn apart, and a sharp explosion rang out.
He didn't pause, and his movements weren't fast, but the transitions were as smooth as flowing water.
Zheng Yuanpei stared at him for a long while before speaking: "Three cracks in the bones, a single arm strength of around 700 jin. What's this set of boxing called?"
"Tengshe Fist"
Zheng Yuanpei murmured repeatedly, his brows furrowing slightly: "Never heard of it. It doesn't seem to be the tradition from Xikou. It has some resemblance to the ancient Snake Form Fist, but it's not quite the same. Has anyone taught you?"
"I practiced by following the diagrams."
Fang Shuwen didn't say that it was actually the inheritance of the giant snake's phantom.
Zheng Yuanpei nodded:
"No wonder. Your boxing skills are quite advanced, but you have a fatal flaw: your strength is not integrated, and you haven't mastered the kung fu."
He spread his five fingers and gently pressed them onto the wooden dummy.
There was no twisting of the waist, just a press.
With a "bang," a smooth-edged palm print appeared on the pillar, as if it had been branded with a hot iron.
The force wasn't great, but it penetrated deep into the wood.
"The three cracking sounds you heard were separate. One from your foot, one from your waist, and one from your shoulder. The energy was scattered and not integrated. True power doesn't produce three separate cracking sounds; it's a single, unified sound."
Fang Shuwen frowned.
He remembered that martial arts theory did indeed have the concept of "three sounds in one," but he had always thought it was just a metaphor.
"When you can achieve the three sounds in one, it means you have mastered this power."
Fang Shuwen understood.
No wonder that despite having the strength of 700 jin, the reaction when hitting the stake was far less than expected.
"Then how should I practice?"
"What you need now is not practice, but correction."
Zheng Yuanpei pulled out a seven-foot-long, thumb-thick white waxwood pole from the weapon rack and handed it over.
"Use this to replace your arm and practice the Tengshe Fist again."
Fang Shuwen took it; it weighed about ten pounds.
He assumed a starting stance and threw a punch.
The pole snapped out from his waist, and halfway through, it suddenly shook violently, like a struggling snake, almost slipping from his grasp.
"Did you feel it? The force stopped moving upwards after passing the waist. The pole shakes, which means the force has broken."
Fang Shuwen threw another punch, deliberately feeling the transmission of force.
Power comes from the soles of the feet, the waist and hips twist, and the spine springs up.
However, the force becomes noticeably sluggish at the shoulder, unable to penetrate.
The pole shook again.
"Again."
He didn't stop, throwing punches again and again.
Sweat soaked through his collar.
By the twentieth repetition, my right shoulder started to ache. It wasn't muscle soreness, but a deep, aching pain in the joint, like something was slowly loosening.
By the thirtieth repetition, a faint "click" sound came from the shoulder joint.
It's not a cracking sound, it's the repositioning of a dislocated joint, like a rusty door hinge being pushed open.
A surge of heat rushed through his shoulder and into his fist.
This time, the ash tree pole didn't shake; it was taut like a bow, drawing a perfect arc.
Subsequently,
It made a sharp "snap" sound at the end, sharper than ever before.
"You felt it?"
Zheng Yuanpei's voice carried a hint of satisfaction.
"I can feel it, the force is past my shoulder."
Fang Shuwen was panting heavily, but his eyes shone with an astonishing brightness.
"You've touched the threshold of strength. But to cross it, you need to coordinate the cracking of the bones in your feet, waist, and shoulders as one. Remember that?"
Fang Shuwen bowed deeply: "I will remember, thank you for your guidance, sir."
Don't give me that.
Zheng Yuanpei turned and walked towards the side room.
"I'm only giving you pointers because you're good at chess. If you refuse to play chess with me again, just wait and see how I deal with you."
"Kid, I understand."
........
Zheng Yuanpei then played a game of chess with him.
Fang Shuwen 'lost' this round.
He didn't lose on purpose; rather, his mind wasn't on the chessboard, but rather he kept replaying the feeling from practicing his boxing earlier in his mind.
Zheng Yuanpei won the game and was in high spirits, his goatee standing on end with a smile.
"Haha, I knew it! I've figured out your chess style, kid. I'll beat you two more games next time!"
Fang Shuwen smiled but didn't expose him.
Time passed unnoticed, and the sky outside the window turned from bright to dark, with twilight beginning to envelop the entire Zheng residence.
Fang Shuwen got up to take his leave.
Zheng Yuanpei did not try to stop him, but leaned back in his chair and waved his hand, telling him to do as he pleased.
Fang Shuwen walked out of the side room, crossed the connecting corridor, and headed towards the main gate of the Zheng residence.
Just as I reached the lotus pond in the front yard, I heard hurried footsteps behind me.
The soles of my shoes pattered lightly on the bluestone slabs, both fast and light.
"Fang Shuwen, wait a minute!"
Fang Shuwen paused and turned around.
Zheng Shulan jogged out from behind the moon gate, carrying a light blue cloth bag embroidered with an orchid.
The stitching is fine and dense; it's made of the same material as the backpack she carried last time.
She ran a little too fast, her cheeks were slightly flushed, and the wisps of hair on her forehead were blown by the wind, fluttering in the twilight.
She ran up to Fang Shuwen, stopped, took a few breaths, and handed him the cloth bag.
"This... is for you."
"Thank you for what happened that day."
After saying that, without waiting for Fang Shuwen's response, he turned around and ran away in a flash.
Zheng Shulan's figure disappeared behind the moon gate, and Fang Shuwen looked down at the blue cloth bag in his hand.
"Um?"
He untied the rope, and five palm-sized pieces of jade lay in the bag.
The quality varied, but even the worst one was much better than the inferior one he had bought at the martial arts academy.
One of them was entirely dark green, and when held in the palm of his hand, he could feel a slight coolness. The concentration of alien energy far exceeded any of the pieces he had absorbed before.
The Zheng family indeed has a profound history.
Fang Shuwen tucked the cloth bag into his bosom, crossed the front yard, and walked out of the Zheng residence's gate.
Dusk had completely fallen.
The streets in the North District were unusually quiet, with high walls and deep courtyards on both sides of the road.
Occasionally, a black car would silently drive by, its headlights casting a white shadow on the blue brick wall.
Fang Shuwen walked south along the main road at a moderate pace.
Once outside the North District, the number of pedestrians gradually increased.
He turned into East Street, intending to take a shortcut back to the Zhao residence.
He had walked for less than the time it takes to brew a cup of tea when his pace suddenly slowed down.
I heard footsteps behind me.