Chapter Sixty: The Strength of Bamboo Joints (Part One)

Winter comes later to Yuezhou than anywhere else. The cool wind whistles through the streets, and while the smell of the sea has faded, the temperature remains only that of southern autumn. It is only the hills and valleys, covered in withered green leaves and white blossoms, that testify to the arrival of winter.

Guanchao is a land of mountains, trees, and ridges; wherever the eye falls, it sees only desolation.

“I heard from the city folk that it’ll snow in Yuezhou this winter.”

“Impossible. I was born here and have never seen what snow even looks like.”

“Don’t be so sure. They say the Daoist priests from the Imperial Observatory predicted it.”

Kou Li’s blue robe had been brought out again, rare enough for him to wear two layers, inner and outer. He walked slowly into Luo Yanzong’s small courtyard. The eldest senior brother sat with a cup of hot tea in hand, half-burned sandalwood incense curling from the burner atop the table, as if he had been waiting for some time.

Luo Yanzong’s expression grew solemn. Every time he taught boxing, Kou Li felt a sense of sanctity, as though he were receiving a sacred doctrine.

“My master, Lin Xianshi, hails from Chaozhou. He is the head of the Burning Body Martial Hall and is proficient in sixteen secret martial arts of the rivers and lakes. As his eldest disciple, I inherited ten of them: Lin Family Boxing, Plum Blossom Palm, Tiger-Crane Double Shape, Wave-Turning Palm, Inner Gate Fist, T-shaped Hanging Palm, Bamboo Hand, Monument-Smashing Palm, Thunderbolt Hand, and Dragon Steps. Today, I pass on my master’s arts—tell me, which do you wish to learn?”

Long before, Luo Yanzong had already told Kou Li about the styles, strengths, and weaknesses of all his learned techniques. So this visit was the formal passing of the art.

“Bamboo Hand.”

Luo Yanzong’s brows furrowed slightly. “Are you sure of this choice?”

“Yes, please instruct me, senior brother.”

Luo Yanzong gazed deeply at him. “Very well.”

Bamboo Hand, also known as Bamboo Joint Force or Hundred Joint Force, is a style that emphasizes continuous, linked short strikes with the whole body. Among these ten arts, and even all southern styles, it is rare—a boxing method with no fixed forms.

What does it mean to have no forms? How is it practiced?

“Old Eight, I was once like you, drawn to the power of this technique, but made no progress for a long time. Had it not been for a sudden insight, I might never have mastered it.”

“But you succeeded, senior brother.”

“Yes, ultimately I did.” Luo Yanzong sighed. Had he not rediscovered the spirit of self-sacrifice, he could not have evolved the Bamboo Joint Force to its seventeenth level, reaching mastery.

This Bamboo Hand is less a martial art than a study of how to channel force throughout the body.

Every move has a form, every form has a method, every method has force. To learn it, one must start from the basic Nine Joint Force.

“To master the Nine Joint Force, you must first understand the three major and nine minor divisions. The so-called nine joints divide the body into three main sections, each subdivided into three. Of the three main sections, the head is the tip, the torso the middle, and everything below the thigh is the root.”

“For the upper arm: the hand is the tip, the arm is the middle, the shoulder is the root. For the lower limb: the foot is the tip, the leg is the middle, the hip is the root. For the central trunk: the chest is the tip, the heart is the middle, the lower abdomen is the root. Together, these make up the nine joints of the human body.”

“Within these nine joints lie nearly all the points of force generation: hand, elbow, shoulder, waist, abdomen, lower abdomen, hip, knee, and foot. Their corresponding nine forces are: penetrate, explode, transmit, wrap, harden, connect, shake, snap, and spring.”

“Watch closely: hand strikes with penetrating force!”

Luo Yanzong brought his palm together, shaking and thrusting forward so hand, arm, and shoulder aligned like a spear. There was a sound, as though the air were torn like a thin jacket.

“Elbow strikes with explosive force!”

As soon as he spoke, his elbow swung like a heavy hammer, the muscles of his forearm and upper arm braided together, transforming into a meat mallet that struck heavily, leaving a dent in the center of the table.

“Shoulder strikes with transmitting force!”

Luo Yanzong flipped like a hawk, his shoulder crashing into the courtyard’s lone old willow. Not a single leaf fell, but the bark where he struck shattered.

“Waist wraps with wrapping force!”

“Abdomen opens with hardening force!”

Page (1/3)

“Lower abdomen connects with connecting force!”

“Hip generates shaking force!”

“Knee kicks with snapping force!”

“Foot strikes with springing force!”

Kou Li watched intently. To him, this was not simply the force of a single joint or limb, but a transformation of the body’s hidden energies. The whole body relaxed, movements flowed together, blood and energy coursed in harmony with each strike, like a wheel rolling, ends connected, blows linked.

“Do you understand?”

Kou Li nodded, then shook his head.

Luo Yanzong explained, “Force is born from the root, travels through the leg, the waist is the pivot, passes through the back, follows the shoulder, moves through the arm and elbow, and is released at the tip. This is the essence of the Nine Joint Force. But the subtle variations in force can only be sensed through practicing the Bamboo Joint Stance.”

He tossed Kou Li a prepared bamboo stick. Kou Li caught it and examined it—it was the bitter yellow bamboo from the mountains, a bit thinner than a bowl, pale green with yellow, smooth to the touch.

“The principles of boxing are derived from the laws of nature. Let me ask you: why does bamboo grow so much faster than ordinary trees, sometimes rising several meters in just days or weeks?”

Without waiting for an answer, Luo Yanzong continued, “Because every bamboo joint grows together, dozens of joints, so its speed is dozens of times that of a tree. This is the secret of the Bamboo Hand stance. I’ll teach you the breathing and standing methods…”

Kou Li didn’t leave until two hours had passed. Soon after, a figure approached the gate. Luo Yanzong already knew who it was—his skill ensured that even a great master could not overhear.

This was the true transmission of a martial school, far beyond the seventeen basic routines taught in martial halls.

Mo Yi’s face was cold. “Bamboo Hand?”

“Exactly.” Luo Yanzong sighed. “You, me, and Second Brother—aside from him, who joined already skilled, you and I, Old Eight, made the same choice.”

“It’s only natural,” Mo Yi spoke softly.

“It’s the only style that, even if mastered alone, can generate unique internal force.”

Three days later—

Kou Li stood at the doorway, seemingly ordinary, while rain dripped from the eaves. Raindrops fell like pearls, landing on his head, shoulders, and legs.

In front of him, the yellowed bamboo stood straight in the mud, aligned with his brow.

Zheng Bao’er watched Kou Li with concern; after all, he had been standing there for a whole day and night.

Kou Li’s old injuries had not fully healed, yet he persisted as if possessed.

Just as he said: take a step back, and there’s nowhere left to retreat.

Suddenly the rain intensified, thunder rolled in the dark clouds overhead, stretching endlessly across the sky. Nature’s ferocity was awe-inspiring.

After the thunder faded, Kou Li’s extraordinary hearing caught a faint, pleasant sound.

How to describe it? Ethereal, crisp, resonant—like life echoing in the air.

In his two lifetimes, he had never heard such a beautiful sound, so distinct from the countless noises of raindrops hitting the earth.

And it was close, as if right beside him.

Kou Li’s pupils focused—he understood!

Far as the horizon, near as before the eyes.

It was the sound of rain falling on bamboo.

Page (2/3)

But why? Rain falls on trees, flowers, grass, yet none produces this echo of life.

Bamboo, bamboo shoot, bamboo joint, bamboo surface—

Another thunderbolt flashed, and inspiration struck Kou Li’s mind.

Bamboo is hollow!

Of all the plants he knew, only bamboo was hollow. Like a bamboo shoot buried in earth, its vitality hidden within. But as breathing methods and stance work merged, his blood and energy, following the skeleton and fascia, moved in mysterious waves, joint by joint.

Just like raindrops hitting the bamboo surface.

Just like the echo on bamboo.

Drip, drip, drip, drip—

The water beads on his hand stretched into a line.

Those on his elbow shattered into even smaller drops.

The ones blown onto his waist bounced off intact.

Those landing on his knee were pressed flat into tiny puddles.

Others fell on his abdomen, his back, his lower abdomen—each in its own way, forming countless wondrous pictures.

A cacophony of sounds, pearls large and small falling onto jade plates.

Kou Li lightly slapped his palm; within his body, nine crisp sounds rang out simultaneously. The nine joints on the yellowed bamboo split open at once.

The entry-level force of Bamboo Hand—the Nine Joint Force—was achieved!

……

In the most luxurious room in Yuezhou City, Young Master Huang wore only a pale, cross-collar silk gown, her shoulders white as snow, her waist slender as a water snake, and her round, white legs intertwined. Her eyes were half closed, half open, radiating a noble and seductive aura, a far cry from her previous heroic demeanor.

“You mean Lin Xianshi has reached a state where he ignores the world yet senses everything, and that’s why you failed?”

“Yes, miss. His martial art, both openly and secretly, ranks among the world’s top ten. Even those gentlemen from the palace might not be able to subdue him.”

“That’s strange. If he’s so formidable, why isn’t he recorded in the Martial Records? Did His Highness not make enough of a stir in his youth, or—”

Young Master Huang paused, her narrow phoenix eyes flashing with something peculiar.

“Miss, it’s all this old servant’s fault—I failed to accomplish what you wanted. I deserve to die, I deserve to die!” The old eunuch’s eyes were red as he knocked his head repeatedly against the floor.

Young Master Huang stretched lazily, unconcerned as she displayed her proud figure. Even the most secret parts appeared from time to time; had there been a man in the room, he would surely have lost his soul.

But she was certain that the one kneeling would never entertain such thoughts. She touched the barely visible scar on her forehead and smiled gently. “In this world, no matter how great the martial art, it cannot surpass the human heart. The Burning Body Hall is bound to fall sooner or later. Old Cao, I hear your tendons were broken and your martial skills destroyed. What a pity.”

“It’s no pity. As long as you’re not angry, miss, I’d gladly give my life.” The old eunuch replied sincerely.

“This time, my manpower is limited—except for you, none are up to the task. It’s a test from the imperial grandfather. So you must stay safe. Ordinary methods can’t restore your tendons, but don’t forget my status: the Western Kingdom of Fire has just sent a box of Sacred Serpent Ointment as tribute—take it.”

“Thank you for your reward, miss.”

“It’s not a reward. To control the martial world of Lingnan, we need enough people. Recruiting a few heroes isn’t enough. The envoys from the Island Nation will arrive in half a year. If I don’t want to obediently return and do that task, this is my only chance!” Young Master Huang’s eyes flashed with the sharpness of a blade.

Page (3/3)