Fists can't cross Tianjin

Chapter 5 Tomitake

"Clean house."

These four characters were written with such force that they seemed to penetrate the paper, carrying an intense and unyielding hatred.

This was the only thought of the body's master before his death.

According to this body's memories, back then, the eldest brother Zhao Jinrong, in order to rise to a higher position, led a group to storm into the sect, betraying their master and ancestors, causing the death of the grandmaster and forcing the master to commit suicide.

Later, Zhao Jinrong not only escaped unscathed, but also transformed into a leading figure in Tianjin's martial arts community.

He's cleared his name.

But his master had the blood debt of the evil deeds he had led in the past, and even more so, the second half of the "Xingyi Manual" mental cultivation method that he had been dreaming of.

Back then, the advisor saw through his evil intentions and kept something from him, only teaching him the physical techniques but not the inner cultivation methods.

That is, this book, "Xingyi Pu".

Without a proper mental cultivation method, no matter how high one's skill level is, it's like a tree without roots. In the end, not only will it be difficult to make any progress, but it will also harm one's health.

Therefore, this was the only thought that Master had before his death, and it was also what Senior Brother Zhao Jinrong, who had long forgotten what he looked like, had been searching for.

Putting aside the grudges involved.

This demonstrates the preciousness of this heritage.

Chen Zhuo carefully turned to the first page of the main text.

On the yellowed paper, there was a small figure drawn, posing in the Three-Body Problem style. Next to it, there was dense writing in tiny characters, the handwriting vigorous and powerful, exuding a sense of iron-like strokes and silver hooks.

"Three-Body Stance: Heaven, Earth, and Man. Sink your Qi to the Dantian, press your tongue against the roof of your mouth..."

Chen Zhuo had memorized these formulas perfectly in his previous life, and could even chat with the old men practicing Tai Chi in the park. But it wasn't until he transmigrated and saw this handwritten copy, combined with the muscle memory remaining in this body, that he understood the true meaning behind each word.

It turns out that "sinking the qi to the dantian" is not about holding your breath, but about finding that downward force in your breathing.

It turns out that "collapsing the waist" doesn't mean forcibly bending the waist downwards, but rather letting the spine move like a dragon, with the upper and lower parts struggling against each other.

The more he looked, the more alarmed and excited he became.

The martial arts problems that had troubled him for over a decade in his past life, the power generation techniques that existed only in theory and fantasy, were suddenly solved. The feeling was like a blind man who had been groping in the dark for a long time suddenly seeing the light again.

This is the real Xingyi Quan!

This is true martial arts—it kills, it doesn't perform!

"A true teaching can be contained in a single sentence, while false teachings fill countless volumes..."

Chen Zhu muttered to himself, his eyes growing brighter and brighter.

He couldn't help but stand up and set up a three-body frame in the cramped little room.

Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, three feet in front and seven feet behind.

His toes gripped the ground, like tree roots digging into the cold brick floor. His knees were slightly bent inward, as if holding a pair of scissors.

"Suspend the head, press the tongue against the palate, and let the breath sink to the dantian."

Chen Zhuo closed his eyes and adjusted his breathing.

When you inhale, the diaphragm descends, and the abdomen does not simply bulge out, but rather expands outwards, like a balloon filled with air.

As you exhale, contract your lower abdomen, lift your anus and kidneys, and feel a warm current rising up along your tailbone.

At this moment, he was no longer a person, but a fully drawn bow.

The spine is like an arched back, and the major tendons are like the bowstring.

"Click...click..."

In the quiet little house, a few extremely faint, crisp sounds suddenly rang out.

That's the spinal joints gradually repositioning and stretching under the pull of the muscles.

Chen Zhuo felt a surge of heat on his back. The long-dormant "dragon" seemed to have been awakened at this moment, lazily stretching its body.

A very faint wisp of white vapor rose from the Baihui acupoint on the top of his head, condensing and not dissipating in the cold air.

However, this wonderful feeling lasted for less than a minute.

What followed was a violent tremor.

His thigh muscles began to convulse violently, and a wave of soreness overwhelmed him. Cold sweat streamed down his forehead, instantly soaking the cotton shirt on his back.

hungry.

I'm hungrier than ever before.

The newly awakened "Great Dragon" was like a greedy beast, its gaping maw ravenously draining the energy it craved. The meager amount of heat from those two steamed buns was so little that it barely made a sound when thrown in; it was completely drained in the blink of an eye.

The fire in my stomach instantly ignited into a raging inferno.

"Thump."

Chen Zhuo's legs went weak, and he had no choice but to stop, collapsing onto the bed and panting heavily.

His kung fu was excellent, but his body was that of a refugee. It was like putting a Ferrari engine on a broken bicycle; the moment he stepped on the gas, the frame would fall apart.

Chen Zhuo sighed.

Given his current situation, wanting to practice martial arts would be a waste of money.

It wasn't even a typical burnt fire.

If they really got into training, let alone a poor rickshaw puller like him, even a rich kid in this era might not be able to handle it.

But he was unwilling to give up if he didn't practice.

As a martial arts fanatic from the future.

He knew all too well the value of this "Form and Meaning Manual." It was the key to becoming a grandmaster, the capital that would allow him to stand tall and make money in this era.

That brings us back to the matter of making money.

It remains a problem.

The predecessor and master were refugees who fled from Cangzhou back then. They were typical "unregistered residents" without household registration or files.

This is commonly known as "migrant workers".

In this day and age, without a household registration and personnel file, it's impossible to move an inch.

After the master of this body died, he had no work unit to rely on, no property, and his household registration was just "hanging" in the air, becoming a worthless piece of paper in his pocket. In these days, no household registration means no food coupons, no cloth coupons, and you can't even get a referral letter for staying at a hotel. If the police station finds out, he's destined to be detained and repatriated.

Without a grain ration coupon, one cannot buy grain at a fair price; without a work unit to hire them, they cannot even find a temporary job.

Want to work in a factory? That's a pipe dream.

Starting a business? I have no capital and no connections. Besides, the policies haven't been fully liberalized yet, so it could easily turn into speculation and profiteering.

If it weren't for the car dealership owner turning a blind eye to letting him pull a rickshaw under someone else's name because of his deceased master, he wouldn't even have been able to eat this last bite of food.

Pedaling a tricycle and carrying heavy bags are the only jobs in this era that do not require strict identity verification, no capital investment, and can be paid in cash on the same day.

Especially wages paid in cash.

It would immediately relieve his hunger, allowing him to devote his energy to cultivation.

Moreover, martial arts training is about tempering the body; riding a tricycle and carrying heavy bags are the best ways to train a person.

Hey……

Chen Zhuo hung the towel around his neck and pushed his tricycle out the door.

Poor scholars, rich warriors—it's all about risking your life...

……

Two o'clock in the afternoon.

Chen Zhuo simply heated up two leftover cornbread buns—those were leftovers from the original owner of the body. Although they were as hard as rocks, they could at least stave off hunger.

After eating, he drank a large ladle of cold water, and only then did he feel something in his stomach.

He pushed his tricycle out the door.

Having offended Ergaizi, Chen Zhuo didn't dare go to the train station, as it was probably teeming with spies there now.

He walked north along the Jingang Bridge, which led to the old city area, with many narrow alleys and easy escape routes.

really.

As soon as he crossed the Jingang Bridge, he sensed that something was wrong.

Several young men in military overcoats were squatting at the intersection ahead.

Instead of gathering together to play cards or chat as usual, they were scattered. Some leaned against telephone poles smoking, while others squatted against walls pretending to sunbathe. But their eyes were slyly watching every passing rickshaw driver.

Especially when they saw someone of similar build wearing a tattered cotton-padded coat, their eyes would immediately follow, and some even secretly held bricks in their hands.

"Those were Erga's informants."

Chen Zhuo knew this in his heart.

Having beaten up these people, I certainly wouldn't let it go.

However, this was Tianjin in the 1980s, not the 1920s, so they didn't dare to openly call out to people on the streets, but they had already spread their net in secret.

The rickshaw driver ahead was riding too fast and was tripped by a thug squatting by the roadside. The driver was about to get angry, but when he saw the thug's sinister eyes and the switchblade that was faintly visible in his hand, he quickly put on a fawning smile and slunk away with his rickshaw.

Chen Zhuo, determined not to get entangled with them, took advantage of the cover of a large coal cart next to him and turned into an inconspicuous alley.

"Ears Eye Alley".

Chen Zhuo wandered through the alleys, deliberately choosing those "capillaries" that couldn't even be found on a map.

This was thanks to the fact that the original owner had been pedaling a tricycle for several years, and the streets and alleys of Tianjin were already imprinted in his mind. He knew exactly which alley led to the main road, which courtyard had a back door, and which walls were too low to climb over.

All afternoon, he was like a slippery eel, darting around right under Ergaizi's nose.

He even picked up two customers heading to Heping Road and earned eight cents from them.

As dusk fell.

Chen Zhuo put the car away and parked it in a secluded dead-end alley. He then counted the money in his pocket.

I had 1.7 yuan in my pocket when I left home in the morning. Although I took a lot of detours in the afternoon to avoid people, I still managed to pick up four or five fares and earn 1.8 yuan.

It adds up to three yuan and fifty cents.

They were considered well-off.

Chen Zhuo stood on the Jingang Bridge, looking down at the frozen Haihe River, his gaze drifting towards a dark reed bed in the distance.

That's Pigeon City in the HQ district.

It is also the largest black market in the city.

"Looks like I'll have to try my luck there tonight."

Chen Zhuo tightened his collar and disappeared into the night.