Chapter 113: Twenty-Four Consecutive Strikes

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Ten days later—

At a tavern in Fu City, a crowd of barefoot laborers, fishermen, shipmasters, and maritime merchants wore expressions ranging from unease to agitation. Those with connections held forth grandly, while those without them strained their ears to listen.

Arguments broke out from time to time.

“I hear the court’s Comprehensive Record of the Six Provinces’ Thoroughfares is about to be issued. If you ask me, our maritime trade probably won’t be possible anymore.”

“Surely not. Is the court planning to ban the sea again? Doesn’t it fear a repeat of the maritime calamity?”

“No, no, no. According to what I’ve heard, overseas trade will soon be open to just about anyone. The court intends to designate certain merchants for the work of protecting trade and guaranteeing the taxes. From now on, the merchants’ taxes won’t be collected by government runners, but handled by people from our own trade.”

“Designated merchants? Then small businesses like ours are finished!”

“Not necessarily. We have to pay either way, so what difference does it make whom we pay? If the court’s move can suppress the pirates and safeguard the trade routes, the money will be well spent.”

“Are you stupid? If those big merchants collude with the authorities, one side has money and the other has power. If they join forces to crush us a few times, small businesses like ours will go bankrupt! Why share the wealth when they can keep it all for themselves?”

In a corner of the tavern, an old man and a young man ate in silence. The old man’s face was dark and livid. He had no Adam’s apple, and when he ate, his movements resembled the writhing of a snake. The young man wore a bamboo hat that concealed his features.

“The imperial decree will arrive in three days. By then, all the great merchants, shipowners, officials, guilds, and gangs throughout the southeast will be showing what they can do. I’m afraid you won’t have time to practice your martial arts.”

“Three days will be enough,” the man in the bamboo hat replied.

“Let’s go.”

The two paid and left the tavern. They walked to the entrance of the third alley on Whitewater Street in western Fu City. There stood a dilapidated manor, with two fierce-looking stone lions seated before its gates.

Few people knew that the man living there had once been Fu City’s greatest martial artist—a master of the Linked Hands technique who had gone undefeated for a hundred miles around.

As soon as the two arrived, a dozen figures suddenly flickered into view around the manor and bowed to them.

“What? Are you worried someone might run away?”

“This servant is a eunuch, not some upright gentleman. I came to seize a martial art, not to become a disciple. Naturally, I have to guard against a desperate last stand.”

The two entered the manor. Inside was a large courtyard dotted with wooden stakes, blades, and other training implements, though all of them were somewhat worn. An old man was instructing a youth in martial arts.

When he saw the old eunuch, a trace of helpless fury flashed through his eyes.

“Heh heh. Master Zhu, you’ve brought the man. You may teach him your art now.”

“If I do as you say, will you release my grandson and me?” Master Zhu asked in a low voice.

“My master is indeed possessed of tremendous abilities, but there is no need to waste them on an old man whose martial arts have already been crippled.”

The youth trembled with rage, but Master Zhu stopped him.

“Very well. The Twenty-Four Linked Hands may not be a famous school of martial arts, but they embody my life’s work. I will teach you. Whether you can master them, however, is not something I can decide.”

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Kou Li removed his bamboo hat and nodded.

“Please instruct me.”

“The Linked Hands are a close-range striking art combining crashing and body-checking techniques with ever-changing elbow work to create methods of short-range combat. They emphasize the simultaneous use of feints and reality, cunning and ruthlessness, speed and force, flexibility and variation…”

“The essence of this art is: ‘When meeting force, be firm; when transforming momentum, become soft.’ When attacking, one often conceals defense within offense. At times, defense carries an attack, or offense and defense are joined together. In the midst of attacking and defending, one employs shaking, swinging, jolting, and smashing techniques, suddenly releasing power or applying hidden force, sending that strength into the opponent’s organs, sinews, and bones. The momentum is heavy and the force fierce. Those struck find their entire bodies stiffened. The techniques are tight and compact, rapid and continuous. No punch is thrown without purpose, and no hand returns empty.”

“The feet follow the body, and the body pursues the feet. The stance lives within the martial art. Watch closely!”

Master Zhu immediately began moving through a circuit of footwork. Wherever his feet passed, grass and leaves flew up, while the earth and dust trembled. His speed was not especially great, but he scarcely paused at all.

“Do you understand?”

“Those footwork techniques are very interesting,” Kou Li said with interest.

“Try them,” Master Zhu said impassively.

Though he had been forced by power and authority to teach the art, he did not mind letting his opponent make a fool of himself.

Kou Li nodded, rolled up his trouser cuffs and sleeves, and revealed hideous scars and bloodstained bandages. The grandfather and grandson stared in shock. Just how grievous had this man’s injuries been?

Kou Li drew a deep breath and relaxed his entire body. His upper and lower halves moved as one, allowing the blood and energy throughout his body to flow in harmony with his movements. His entire frame rippled. Taking his waist as the axis, he drew strength from his feet and sent his energy to the tips of his limbs.

As he moved through the sequence, the grass trembled and dust billowed. His footwork was astonishingly similar to Master Zhu’s—nearly sixty or seventy percent the same.

“Well?” Kou Li asked.

Master Zhu’s eyes bulged. At last, he had no choice but to pretend to stroke his beard and adopt a dignified expression.

“There are still some details to correct, but you’ve already crossed the threshold.”

“Excellent. Then let’s begin with the forms.”

“Xiaojun, your grandfather is a little tired. You teach him.”

Master Zhu waved a hand, revealing a trace of exhaustion.

The youth called Xiaojun cast Kou Li an indignant glance.

“I’ll demonstrate the opening form first. Watch carefully. This is the Bell-Shaking Hand!”

He stamped the ground and flicked his hand. His arm darted forward, and as the joints of his hand and fingers shook, they produced a tinkling sound like a string of silver bells.

“Do you understand? You’ve seen the moving stance. You’ve also watched the forward hand. Now, match hands with him.”

The old eunuch regarded Kou Li with amusement. “Matching hands” was actually a contest in which each person forced the other’s martial posture. Someone who had mastered a martial art could assume a stance that could neither be pushed nor pulled, raised nor shifted.

Yet less than half a watch had passed since they entered the manor, and the other side was clearly trying to humiliate him.

His master treated this man very well, so naturally, as a servant, he found the man deeply unpleasant.

“All right.”

Kou Li’s face remained expressionless. He stepped forward and twisted his hand, bringing the backs of their hands together as he assumed a similar posture.

Then, in an instant, there came a thunderous crack accompanied by a ringing like silver bells. Zhu Xiaojun flew backward and struck the window, leaving half his body dangling there as it swayed.

The corner of Master Zhu’s eye twitched.

“You—”

Zhu Xiaojun’s eyes reddened. He was about to confront Kou Li furiously, but his grandfather held him back and said gravely, “Stop playing tricks and teach him properly. He is a master who has attained great mastery in internal martial arts.”

The young grandson stood stunned for a long moment. Then he fell silent and obediently began teaching the forms.

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The Twenty-Four Hands struck by crashing or smashing, lifting or cleaving, pushing or splitting. On the return, the hands hooked or wrapped, clasped or gathered, sealed or entangled. It was a martial art that placed extraordinary emphasis on continuity, and it was divided into three sets of eight forms.

The First Eight: Bell-Shaking Hand, Thrusting Fist, Seize-Slap-Step, Double-Drawing Hands, Earth-Covering Hammer, Finger-Lifting Slap, Flicking Hand, Sleeve-Wiping Hand.

The Middle Eight: Mountain-Splitting Cannon, Snatching Cannon, Ear-Piercing Hammer, Cleaving-Smashing Hammer, Hawk Strikes, Ghost Peeks Out, Cleaving Hammer, Dagger Fist.

The Final Eight: Hanging Sandbag, Crowd-Catching Hands, Yellow Dragon Probes Its Claws, Eight Gates in Retreat, Star Lord Taps the Dipper, Leaning Against the Mountain, Golden Dragon Closes Its Mouth, White Ape Offers the Peach.

From then on, Kou Li could no longer learn the forms almost instantaneously as he had before. Without the beast-nature entering his body, he could only study each posture one by one, painstakingly.

Even so, in the grandfather and grandson’s eyes, his speed was still absurdly fast.

A master who had attained great mastery in internal martial arts possessed an innate advantage when learning another internal art—far beyond that of an ordinary practitioner.

By noon, he could already perform the entire sequence with considerable skill, and his force had grown increasingly fluid and transparent.

His attacks used cleaving movements, his returns used turning motions, and his linked strikes used thrusts. When launching an attack, he snapped; when withdrawing, he pulled; when linking the movements, he caught and carried. A continuous succession of sharp cracks rang through the courtyard without pause.

“I’ll come for you in three days.”

With that, the old eunuch walked away without looking back. He feared that if he watched any longer, his poor old heart would not withstand it.

“Although your martial art is tremendously powerful—stronger than certain ancient schools, even—it truly cannot reach great mastery,” Kou Li said.

The information Young Master Huang had given him contained detailed records of the various martial arts. Its assessment of the Twenty-Four Linked Hands was: tremendous power, but an innate limitation.

“Do you know where the flaw in this art lies?” Master Zhu suddenly grew agitated. If his martial art had not remained stagnant for so many years, his strength would not have declined in old age, leaving him vulnerable to his enemies. The matter had become an illness of the heart.

Zhu Xiaojun pricked up his ears as well.

“Your martial art has no flaw. Its strengths are simply too overwhelming.” Kou Li paused, then continued, “The upper and lower limbs link together, the hands and feet move as one, and every movement rises and falls in succession, flowing through the body as a single current. The exchange of force never ceases. When momentum breaks, the force reconnects. The two hands remain linked like a string of stars. Once a single opening appears, anyone facing this art is essentially doomed to lose.”

Master Zhu’s face revealed a trace of pride. This was the aspect of his art of which he was most proud.

“But that is precisely where the problem lies. The greatest strength of your art is not merely the circulation of blood and energy. It also draws upon the marrow within the bones, rising from the root and returning to the root, moving through every inch of the body. That is why the momentum of each strike becomes greater than the last.”

“The problem is that the foundation of this martial art lies in the circulation of the marrow. That is a power accessible only after one has completed the bone-tempering stage among the Four Great Refinements. Your art surpasses the level of training required to support it. That is why it can never attain true mastery.”

Kou Li’s Bamboo-Joint Force and his great mastery of internal martial arts were extraordinary abilities. They allowed him to perceive force in the subtlest detail and transform it at will, which was why he had been able to identify this flaw so keenly.

Master Zhu stood as though his soul had left his body, muttering to himself, “So that’s how it is…”

“Then why do you want to learn our family’s martial art?” Zhu Xiaojun asked indignantly.

“Your family’s art is the strongest once it reaches its deepest stages, and that is precisely what I need.” Kou Li paused. “Once I master your family’s art, my own unique force should be nearly complete.”