stjorthotic Chapter 26 Storms Gather in Qingzhou
Chapter 26 Storms Gather in Qingzhou
After crossing the high threshold, the view suddenly opened up before me.
This is a standard courtyard house, with a huge locust tree growing in the courtyard, its branches and leaves spreading out like a giant umbrella. Under the tree, there is a set of stone table and stone benches.
An elderly man, dressed in a white martial arts uniform, with gray hair but a vigorous spirit, was sitting at a stone table, leisurely sipping tea.
He looked like an ordinary old man returning from his morning exercise, but Ma Cong's eyes narrowed slightly.
He sensed an unfathomable aura emanating from the old man.
That wasn't the bloodthirsty murderous aura of Ruan Jin that he had encountered last night, nor was it the outwardly strong but inwardly weak ferocity of Zhao Sihai's bodyguards.
It's a kind of back-to-basics spirit.
Like a bottomless ancient well, it appears calm on the surface, but no one knows how deep it is inside.
This is definitely a top-notch master who has honed traditional Chinese martial arts to an extremely high level.
"Hehe, young friend, please have a seat." The old man smiled warmly at Ma Cong and pointed to the stone bench opposite him.
Ma Cong didn't stand on ceremony and went over to sit down.
"Let me introduce myself. My surname is Qin, Qin Zhenshan." Old Qin personally poured Ma Cong a cup of tea. His movements were slow, yet they had an indescribable charm. "The phone call last night was made to you by Xiao Li, at my request."
"Hello, Mr. Qin." Ma Cong nodded and asked directly, "What brings you here?"
He doesn't like beating around the bush.
Qin Zhenshan smiled, seemingly appreciating his directness.
"For the sake of Chinese martial arts."
He put down his teacup, looked at Ma Cong, and his eyes became serious.
"We've watched all your fight videos, from when you fought that guy in the boxing gym, what's his name... Li Jing, to when you pierced the floor with one finger on the Wulin Feng stage."
"Wonderful, truly wonderful," Qin Zhenshan exclaimed. "It's been many years since I've seen such pure internal energy. Especially that punch you threw at that Vietnamese guy, wasn't it internal energy? And it was a combination of hardness and softness, a spiraling, penetrating internal energy of the Bengquan (a type of fist technique). Among young people these days, those who can master Mingjin (manifest energy) are extremely rare, and you've actually mastered internal energy. Amazing, truly amazing."
Ma Cong was slightly startled.
The other party even knew that he had killed Nguyen Kim at the dock last night, and could accurately describe what kind of kung fu he used based on the description alone.
It seems that this old man Qin and the people behind him have more power than he imagined.
"You flatter me, Elder Qin," Ma Cong said calmly.
"This is not an overstatement, it's the truth." Qin Zhenshan waved his hand. "To be honest, before we saw you, we old guys were almost in despair about the future of Chinese martial arts."
His tone carried a hint of undisguised melancholy.
"Over the years, the reputation of traditional Chinese martial arts has been completely ruined. A bunch of clowns, posing as masters of traditional martial arts, are swindling and deceiving people. What 'receiving, neutralizing, and releasing' techniques, what 'lightning five-strike whip'—it's shameful! They've utterly disgraced their ancestors!"
Qin Zhenshan slammed his hand on the stone table, causing the water in the teacup to spill out.
"On the other hand, those so-called 'fighting athletes,' relying on their youth and strength, wearing boxing gloves, and under the protection of the rules, knocked down a few charlatan masters, and dared to say that 'Chinese martial arts are trash' and 'vulnerable.'"
"It's not that we old guys can't beat them. It's just that we have our concerns." Qin Zhenshan sighed. "At our age and with our status, if we personally step into the ring and fight a junior, if we win, it would be an unfair victory, bullying the weak; if we lose, then the last bit of face for Chinese martial arts would truly be gone."
"Therefore, we can only watch helplessly as traditional Chinese martial arts are stigmatized, and as countless young people scoff at our own cultural treasures and turn to learning Taekwondo, Karate, or Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu instead."
"We are heartbroken, but we are powerless to help."
Qin Zhenshan's gaze fell on Ma Cong again, this time with expectation in his eyes.
"Until you came along."
"You're different. You're young, capable, and you know how to behave appropriately."
"In the ring, you only injure, you don't cripple. You use skill, technique, and the true style of Chinese martial arts. You've proven to everyone that Chinese martial arts aren't ineffective; it's just that those people practiced it incorrectly, or simply didn't master it!"
"Most importantly," Qin Zhenshan said, enunciating each word clearly, "you possess a killing intent. A killing intent that comes from someone who has truly seen blood and fought. Martial arts are, by their very nature, a killing art. In peacetime, we talk about martial ethics and knowing when to stop. But if we completely abandon its essence, then martial arts truly become nothing more than calisthenics."
Ma Cong listened quietly. He could feel that every word Old Qin said came from the bottom of his heart.
These words resonated deeply with him.
"So, Mr. Qin, what do you want me to do today?" Ma Cong asked.
Qin Zhenshan didn't answer directly, but instead asked, "Before answering your question, I'd like to ask you something first. Why do you practice martial arts? Is it for money? For fame? Or for that UFC gold belt?"
This is a crucial question.
Ma Cong knew that this was a test from the other party.
Without even thinking, he replied, "My master told me something before he passed away."
"What did you say?"
"He said, 'Chinese martial arts cannot die out in our generation.'" Ma Cong's eyes were clear and firm. "I started practicing martial arts to improve my health, then to avoid being bullied. Now, it's to give my master an explanation, and also to give Chinese martial arts an explanation."
"As for money, fame, and gold belts..." Ma Cong smiled, "Those things, having them is good. Not having them doesn't matter. I only want to do one thing."
"To restore the reputation of martial arts."
He spoke those five words with absolute certainty.
Qin Zhenshan stared at him for a long time, and then, a genuine, relieved smile finally appeared on his usually serious face.
He slapped his thigh and exclaimed, "Good! Well said!"
"To uphold the reputation of Chinese martial arts! We old folks have been waiting for you to say that!"
He stood up, faced the main house, and shouted in a strong voice, "Come out, everyone! Stop hiding! The person we've been waiting for has arrived!"
No sooner had he finished speaking than the door to the main room was pushed open.
Three elderly men, all of similar age but with distinct personalities, emerged from inside.
He was tall and strong, with a resolute face and prominent temples, clearly a master of external martial arts.
He was a small, thin man with a goatee and piercing eyes that shone brightly, giving him an air of otherworldly elegance.
There was another one, dressed in a military uniform. Although he wasn't wearing any rank insignia, his imposing and dignified aura was so powerful that people dared not look him in the eye.
Qin Zhenshan introduced Ma Cong to each of them.
"This is a descendant of Dong Haichuan, the master of Baguazhang, Master Dong."
"This is Master Zhang, a successor of Wudang Tai Chi."
"This is General Zhou, the representative of the military and the head of our 'National Martial Arts Inheritance and Development Research Group'."
Ma Cong stood up, respectfully clasped his hands in a fist and bowed to the three elders: "Junior Ma Cong greets the three seniors."
A tremendous storm raged within him.
Baguazhang, Tai Chi, military bigwigs...
This is quite a spectacle.
This is no longer a simple folk martial arts exchange; it almost represents the highest level of Chinese martial arts, and there is even official involvement.
"Young friend, no need for formalities." General Zhou smiled, his voice booming like a bell. "We old folks have truly had our eyes opened today. We never imagined that old stubborn Chen would actually raise such a prodigy."
"You...know my master?" Ma Cong was stunned.
"It's more than just knowing each other." General Zhou laughed heartily. "If he hadn't run away so fast back then, he would be my chief instructor now! We've been friends for decades."
Ma Dacong was completely dumbfounded.
His master, that slovenly, alcoholic old man Chen who forced him to practice standing meditation every day, actually had such an amazing past.
"Alright, let's not dwell on those old stories." Qin Zhenshan waved his hand, gesturing for everyone to sit down again.
His expression turned serious.
"Ma Cong, since you share the same thoughts as us, we won't beat around the bush with you."
"We would like to extend a formal invitation to you on behalf of our country."
Qin Zhenshan looked at Ma Cong and said, word by word.
"We hope you can join us and become the chief consultant and chief instructor of our 'Practical Application of Traditional Chinese Martial Arts' project."