activa-t Chapter 3 Eight Extremes Fist
Chapter 3 Eight Extremes Fist
The middle-aged man's expression turned serious, and he flicked his neck, his braid forming a circle.
Then, his waist and hips sank down, as if rooted to the ground, his arm muscles bulged, and his stance suddenly changed, with his fists one in front and one behind, as if holding a large spear.
He said in a deep voice:
"Zhang Heng of the Eight Extremes."
Ip Man remained calm, extending one hand.
Zhang Heng's footwork was as swift as the wind, and he instantly rushed into the center of the palace. His right elbow was like a poisonous dragon emerging from its cave, bringing with it a terrible, bloody wind, and went straight for Ip Man's heart!
Bajiquan, Dingxin Elbow!
This elbow strike was fierce, deadly, and ruthless, leaving no room for retreat; it was a desperate, battlefield-style fighting method.
Instead of retreating, Ip Man advanced, taking a half-step diagonally with his left foot, his body moving like a willow catkin in the wind, barely dodging the vicious elbow strike.
Almost simultaneously, he formed his right palm and shot out from below with lightning speed, the edge of his palm like a knife, swiftly slashing at the tendons behind the opponent's elbow!
Wing Chun, stop!
Zhang Heng felt a numbness in his elbow, and the force vanished instantly. He was terrified and instinctively threw a left fist in a chopping motion, like a giant axe splitting a mountain, slamming down on Zhang Heng's head and face.
Before Ip Man could retract his right hand, his left arm had already emerged from the center line like a nimble snake, spreading his palm to parry outwards. It seemed effortless, but at the moment of contact, it trembled and twisted.
"Snapped!"
The powerful strike was deflected, causing the middle-aged man to slightly lose his balance.
Ip Man seized this fleeting opportunity, unleashing a barrage of Sun-shaped punches.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Three short, powerful stabs landed squarely on the opponent's chest and abdomen.
Zhang Heng groaned, took three steps back, his face turned from red to white, and a sweet taste rose in his throat as he forced the blood back down.
He stared intently at Ip Man and hissed:
"Short-range power... Excellent boxing technique!"
Before he finished speaking, a fierce glint flashed in his eyes, and he suddenly turned his head and bit down hard!
A soft "click" sounded.
Zhou Xing's expression changed, and he rushed forward:
"Wait a minute!"
But then a trickle of black blood spilled from the middle-aged man's mouth, his body swayed, and he collapsed softly.
Zhou Xing squatted down, pinched his chin, and saw broken wax pellets remaining between his teeth, with a pungent bitter almond smell wafting out.
"Last month... in the alley of the French Concession, you were the one who used magic to kill a policeman, weren't you? What kind of magic did you just cast on me?"
Zhou Xing lowered his voice and asked urgently.
Zhang Heng's unfocused gaze focused on Zhou Xing's face, and he actually managed to pull out a very strange smile, a mixture of mockery and a trace of...pity.
He shook his head very slightly, and then said with difficulty:
"Ghost Immortal's Rope... You won't live past seven days."
His pupils then dilated completely.
Zhou Xingxin's heart sank suddenly.
"Useless! Good-for-nothing!"
A roar came from behind, and Ruan Wenzhong rushed over. Seeing Zhang Heng's appearance, he kicked Zhou Xing in the shoulder.
"Who gave you permission to act without authorization? I had the plan succeeded on the spot! Now the man is dead, and all leads are dead! You can forget about your paycheck this month!"
Zhou Xing dodged to the side, a surge of anger rising within him.
What have you become? A beast.
He could dodge the kick, but he couldn't dodge the flying scapegoat.
This series of events, along with Hong Shao's previous testimony, finally made the police officers understand what had happened.
Foreign police officers, Chinese police officers, and Ip Man's disciples all poured into the alleyway.
Outside the alley, the foreign police officer, his face ashen, was cursing rapidly in English as he directed his men to control the scene, search for the body, and evacuate the crowd.
The scene was in complete chaos.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Zhou Xing quickly ran his hand across the middle-aged man's cold hand, and an antique-style iron ring with its edges worn smooth fell into his palm.
The instant of contact, a burning, molten thought surged into his mind:
[Han Muxia's Obsession (Gold): Slay the foreigners and promote our national martial arts!]
This ring is actually the keepsake of Han Muxia, who killed the Russian strongman back then!
As expected, the obsessive feeling I had during our earlier exchange was correct.
Zhou Xing gripped the ring tightly, his fingertips burning.
Ip Man's gaze swept over the middle-aged man's corpse, his expression calm.
No one mentioned arresting him anymore.
"Master, let's go quickly!"
The square-faced disciple who had just squeezed in urged him on, glancing at Zhou Xing and the noisy patrolmen with disgust.
Ip Man waved his hand, looked at Zhou Xing who was standing up, and asked:
"Officer, what's your name?"
Zhou Xing composed himself and clasped his hands in a fist salute:
"Zhouxing. Zhou means cyclical and recurring, and Xing means effective action."
Ip Man nodded, his gaze lingering on his face for a moment:
"A name that goes on without ceasing. Thank you for today. Right and wrong are determined by the hearts of the people."
I'm temporarily staying at the "Yuelai Inn" in the old town, and I have some free time these next couple of days. If you'd like, you can come find me.
He paused for a moment, then said, "You are quick-witted and have great potential, but unfortunately you lack a solid foundation. If you can build that foundation, you may very well achieve great things in the future."
"Master!"
The square-faced disciple couldn't help but speak up, his face full of resentment.
Ip Man glanced at him, and the disciple immediately fell silent, but still glared at Zhou Xing defiantly.
Zhou Xing suppressed the turmoil in his mind and cupped his hands in greeting again:
"Thank you very much, Master Ye. I will definitely visit you to learn from you."
Ip Man said no more, turned and left with his disciples, and soon disappeared into the chaotic streets.
……
The French Concession police station took statements late into the night.
Ruan Wenzhong's roar echoed in the cramped office:
"You acted without authorization, disturbed your superiors, disrupted the plan, and even caused a wanted criminal to commit suicide. Zhou Xing, your salary for this month will be deducted!"
"Don't touch the 'Charity Hub' case anymore! Go back and reflect on your actions!"
Zhou Xing lowered his eyes and remained silent.
He knew that once the case made progress, the credit would go to Nguyen Van Trung and the foreigners.
A level-three Chinese constable earns twenty silver dollars a month. The original owner of this body was extravagant and even with some under-the-table income each month, he could only save a dozen or so silver dollars.
Deducting this month's salary is equivalent to cutting Zhou Xing's assets in half.
But Chinese police officers have no standing; arguing is useless and will only result in harsher penalties.
Only when recording fingerprints did he stroke the cold iron ring hidden in his sleeve, silently thinking:
Han Muxia wants to kill the "foreigner"...
Does this person from Annam count?
When I stepped out of the office, it was already dawn.
The police station had been busy all night and was filled with the smell of feet and sweat.
Several familiar Chinese constables surrounded him and patted him on the shoulder:
"Good for you, Lao Zhou, you've got guts!"
"This has given us Chinese people a lot of face!"
Some people hid in the corner, speaking in a sarcastic tone:
"You tried to show off, and now look what happened. You didn't get any credit, and you've lost your salary too."
Zhou Xing simply nodded and dragged his tired body back to his rented room.
The house was located in a narrow, damp alley on the edge of the French Concession, with nothing but a bed, a table, and a chair.
You can see the back wall of the police station from the window.
He locked the door, sat on the creaking chair, and gazed at the pale sky outside the window.
Ghost Immortal Rope.
The chilling red lines on his wrist served as a constant reminder that danger was imminent.
Zhang Heng died too quickly and too tragically.
That organization... was more dangerous than he had imagined, and these people would come knocking on his door sooner or later.
Ruan Wenzhong hastily picked the fruit and kicked him out; the police station itself was probably not clean either.
This place is said to be a law enforcement zone, but in reality it is a world dominated by foreigners and an arena for various forces to fight each other.
He, a rootless and powerless Chinese constable, might be able to break through the impasse today, but tomorrow he could be quietly buried in the silt of the Haihe River.
Their only reliance is this "unwavering commitment to inheritance".
No matter how wonderful the inheritance, it still needs a good body to support it.
The original owner's body was far too weak.
Ip Man's words echoed in my ears:
"It's a pity that I have no roots... If only I could build a foundation..."
Tomorrow, I will visit Master Ye.
He clenched his fist.
With no connections and no resources, the road ahead is fraught with danger.
Then... let's fight our way to the top.