ring of beasts

() In the back kitchen of a Chinese restaurant in New York's Chinatown, several greasy men were sitting on the floor smoking cigarettes and discussing something passionately. It was the afternoon when the kitchen was free.

These people all have Sichuan accent.

"Master, I heard that in a few days the masters of Tai Chi will compete with Japanese swordsmen. You old man said that we can't win." A childish young man of fourteen or fifteen years old was asking a fat man in his forties with a bald head.

.

"Bang." The fat man slapped the young man on the head. "Why are you talking? Of course we will win."

"I heard that the highest-level eighth-level kendo master from the Japanese country came this time," said a forty-year-old dark and thin man.

"What's wrong with the eighth-dan? Even if he comes from the eighteenth-dan, he'll still be beaten to the point where his ancestors won't even recognize him," the big fat man said decisively.

"Master, there are no eighteen levels of swordsmanship in Japan," said the childish young man...

"Ri, your ancestor is Banban. I don't know yet. That's what I meant."

"That's right, everyone, you know, the young man sent to compete with the Japanese country this time is the same young man who defeated the Japanese warriors with one move last time," said a fair young man in his twenties or eighties.

"If you insist on it, then it's even more impossible for us to lose. Oh, by the way, didn't you see the scene last time? Let's talk about it," the big fat man said.

"I've said it more than eight hundred times," said the fair young man.

"Tell me more," everyone said anxiously.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you again," the fair young man said impatiently. "That day when I came back from delivering takeaways, I saw that the other side of the street was packed with people inside and outside. You know I'm the one watching the fun the most."

Everyone nodded.

"I squeezed in and took a look. Guess what. There was a young man inside with a long spear. He was confronting a samurai holding a samurai sword."

"This samurai holding a samurai sword is from Japan as soon as I see it."

Everyone nodded again.

"Then the two yelled and rushed toward each other at the same time. They were about to collide. Guess what?" said the fair young man.

"What's wrong?" everyone asked in unison, even though everyone had heard it countless times.

"The young man with the spear jumped so high." The fair young man stood up and raised his hands to the highest level.

Everyone gasped in unison.

"Then a young man threw a spear from the sky, and a Japanese samurai blocked it with a samurai sword. But the young man knocked the katana away, and then he pulled a spear and hit it again.

On the shoulders of a Japanese warrior, guess what happened to the Japanese warrior?"

"What's wrong?" everyone said in unison.

"I pulled a Japanese warrior and knelt on the ground for a while. Then he vomited a mouthful of blood, and finally fell to the ground again and couldn't get up."

Everyone clapped happily and enthusiastically, especially the childish child, who looked at each other with sparkling eyes. He secretly made up his mind to save money to go to a Tai Chi gym to learn martial arts.

This kind of dialogue is taking place all over Chinatown. The news gradually spreads in Chinatown. In a few days, Chinese martial arts will have a duel with Japanese swordsman masters.

The Chinese have a low social status in the United States, so everyone takes such a duel very seriously.

Whether it’s a Chinatown chef, a food delivery person or a fortune teller, this is what everyone talks about the most.

Gradually, even some international students who are not in Chinatown and some Chinese people working in large companies gradually know about this matter.

Everyone is talking happily about how the Chinese martial arts will defeat the ravaging Japanese samurai. It seems that Chinese martial arts defeat Japanese kendo in a matter of minutes, as easy as swatting a fly to death.

However, privately, the Chinese people are deeply worried and are not as relaxed as they appear. They are afraid of what will happen if the Chinese martial arts masters lose. Although everyone on the surface seems to believe that there is no possibility of losing in Chinese martial arts.

However, everyone secretly warned themselves that they would never lose.

In the Tai Chi martial arts gym across the street from Chinatown, Yang Guang was hard at work practicing his spear skills under the guidance of everyone.

The reason why I say everyone is because, in addition to Yang Yihai and Master Yang, there are also Master Yang Yishan who was the first to teach Yang Guang martial arts, and several brothers of Master Yang and Master Yang who came from China.

In short, there were seven or eight hale and hearty old men sitting in a row, instructing Yang Guang's spear skills in the Taishi chair nearby. The youngest one was Yang Yishan, who was in his forties.

This is naturally a big deal for Yang Style Tai Chi, so everyone came from China.

All the old men are also masters of martial arts in the same area, with many disciples and grandchildren. If it were not for the fight with the Japanese, no matter how good Yang Guang's martial arts qualifications were, he would never have received such a high salary.

"Yishan, you have accepted a good disciple, but none of my disciples have become successful," said an old man.

Yang Yishan didn't even dare, but he felt a little regretful in his heart. He was naturally very proud that Yang Guang could defeat everyone this time to represent the martial arts world in a duel with Japanese warriors, and he didn't expect Yang Guang's martial arts to improve so quickly.

However, although Yang Guang shouted "Master, Master" all day long, he did not really become a disciple. Therefore, Master Yang Yishan was very upset. He did not really perform the "Master's Ceremony" and was not considered a formal apprentice.

But why didn't this boy mention the matter of apprenticeship? Do I still need to beg him? Master Yang thought in his heart.

Everyone knew about Master Yang's unauthorized teaching of Tai Chi Spearmanship and Tai Chi Opening to Yang Guang, but no one said a word of blame.

"Brother, did you see that this kid actually had a slight flow of Qi when he was practicing his spear skills?" Master Yang pointed at Yang Guang and said to the eldest one sitting in the middle among the old men.

"I saw it," the old man said, stroking the white beard under his lips and nodding.

"But Yishan and I never taught him old tricks," Master Yang said.

Laojia is the most mysterious set of exercises in Yang Style Tai Chi, which is not taught to non-disciples of the same clan.

The function of Laojia is to cultivate that trace of true energy. In other words, Laojia is the skill of practicing qi. Without Laojia, there would be no true qi at all.

It is unimaginable to learn how difficult it is to cultivate true energy, otherwise Chinese martial arts would not have declined like this. It can be said that not all the old men have sensed true energy. Even if they have sensed it, it is only a hint of it.

Nothing more.

"Seriously." The white-bearded old man stared at Master Yang, then turned to look at Yang Yishan.

Uncle Yang and Master Yang both nodded.

"That's weird," the white-bearded old man said after stroking his beard for a while, "I thought you secretly spread the word about his old ways. Now that the war is going on, I don't have the nerve to ask about it."

"But if there is no old frame, how can there be true energy? Could it be that this child is born with an innate true energy in his body?"

Uncle Yang and Master Yang both nodded.

The other old men looked at the three of them in shock. This shows how shocking this news is.

Yang Guang, who was practicing spear skills in the middle of the field, also vaguely heard it and was secretly happy.

Finally, I no longer have to think of any reasons to explain why there is spiritual energy in my body, because all the masters have already thought of this reason.

After all, it was impossible to hide this matter, because he had to use his spiritual energy to maximize the power of his spear skills.

Of course, Yang Guang didn't know that anyone could bring out a trace of spiritual energy from the mother's womb.

But Yang Guang understands that no matter what others are like, he is not.

"Brother, please say a few kind words to the old patriarch. Can you pass on the old ways to this child? Otherwise, it will be a pity for this good talent and beautiful jade," Master Yang said.

Uncle Yang can mention this matter, which shows that his love for Yang Guang is not as high as that of Yang Yishan.

The white-bearded old man nodded, "It's a blessing to have such qualifications in my family. As an old patriarch, I naturally have no shirk."

Everyone nodded.

"Yang Guang, that's not how this move is used. The force is too strong." The white-bearded old man stood up and walked to Yang Guang and took the spear in his hand.

"I'll show you," the old man said, and his gun flashed.

I saw that the barrel of the gun was like a wave. The barrel of the gun undulated several times in a row, meandering towards the front.

Yang style Tai Chi emphasizes the use of force to create a spiral. The same applies to spear skills, and is not a straight attack.

Therefore, although Yang Guang is somewhat clever, the skill in it is extremely difficult to master.

A few days later, the day for the scheduled duel with the Japanese Kendo Hall finally arrived.

In a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown, a fat bald man was cooking a wok in his hand, planning to start the day's business.

"Master, today is the day of the duel, you forgot." A childish child ran to the kitchen and said to the fat bald man.

"Ah, what kind of brain do I have, I need to see it quickly." Hearing the child's words, he picked up the wok and ran across the street.

"There is no business today," the big fat man said to the two foreigners who were about to enter the restaurant.

"Why, why are all the restaurants in Chinatown closed today?" one of the foreigners asked with a shrug.

Yang Guang put on a white outfit and came down from the Tai Chi gym with a spear in his hand.

After this period of practice, Yang Guang finally felt that the pewter spear was still better to use than his steel spear, especially when fighting against others.

The venue for the duel was set in a nearby basketball stadium.

When Yang Guang came down, the street downstairs was already crowded with Chinatown residents with black hair and black eyes. It was very lively as you pushed and squeezed.

When everyone saw Yang Guang coming down, their eyes were full of longing, and they all became quiet instantly.

"Come on, we all support you, fight for us Chinese," shouted a fat bald man wearing a greasy apron and holding a wok in his hand.

"Yes, we all support you," a childish child shouted in the crowd, raising his hand.

"come on"

"His grandma didn't even recognize him after beating him."

"Rising"

"cow b"

There was a burst of lively cheers from the crowd.

Yang Guang was a little moved. He held the gun in front of him with both hands, bowed slightly and paid tribute to his compatriots, thanking them for putting down their work to support him. Because it is very difficult for the Chinese to make a living in the United States, and it is extremely difficult for the Chinese to make a day without rest for more than ten years.

normal.

"Brother Yang, you will definitely win." A thin and stern middle-aged man squeezed through the crowd and patted Yang Guang's shoulder. It was Wang Luo, the Double Red Stick member of the Blue Sea Gang.

Yang Guang nodded, then carried the spear and headed towards the duel venue.

Behind him were seven or eight old men in Tang suits and some young men in Kung Fu suits.

Behind them were hundreds of Chinese people wearing aprons, carrying woks and vegetables. (To be continued.)