Madman!

Chapter 6: The Martial Arts Hall Identity Comes in Handy

One student was absent from the martial arts hall today, but Senior Brother Li paid it no mind.

All morning, his attention was fixed on Chen Wujun.

In just a single day, Chen Wujun had learned to use breathing to control his state, keeping himself balanced on the very edge of "as if facing a great enemy"—perpetually on the threshold of entering it, yet not quite crossing over.

He still slipped past the boundary occasionally, dropping into the full "as if facing a great enemy" state, but with time, he would surely gain complete control before long.

His progress with the Golden Rooster Stance was equally rapid.

Yesterday he'd been wobbling all over the place. Today, he stood rock-steady.

The toes of his planted foot gripped the ground like steel rebar, while his other leg was raised past the knee, held before him like a shield. Both hands guarded his upper body.

His gaze was filled with intense focus and a trace of ferocity.

'Not bad. Natural talent, and willing to put in the work!' Senior Brother Li stood off to the side, nodding slightly to himself.

He said nothing aloud, though—no need to let Chen Wujun's ego inflate to the heavens.Then he swung his leg and swept it against Chen Wujun's raised shield-leg.

Senior Brother Li hadn't used much force, but Chen Wujun immediately lost his balance. His body staggered backward, and he crashed to the ground.

"Get up. Again!" Senior Brother Li ordered, his expression flat.

Chen Wujun gritted his teeth, picked himself off the floor, and resumed the Golden Rooster Stance with his knee raised. His mind churned, trying to figure out how to maintain his balance against external force. He was still working through the problem when Senior Brother Li shoved him in the small of his back, and he toppled forward.

He scrambled to take a step and staggered, barely catching himself.

"Keep standing!" Senior Brother Li called from behind him.

Lin Zetao and the other students watched from nearby, exchanging uneasy glances. Silently, they all thanked their lucky stars they hadn't received this treatment when they'd first started the Golden Rooster Stance.

They'd each been given at least ten days of practice before Senior Brother Li began applying external force.

Meanwhile, Chen Wujun—in the very moment his foot hit the ground and he stumbled—suddenly realized he could have transitioned from the Golden Rooster Stance into the Charge Stance.

When he took the stance again, that idea kept turning over in his mind. The more he considered it, the more certain he became that this was the right approach.

After all, you couldn't chase someone down while standing on one leg.

The Golden Rooster Stance was only for maintaining balance in that split-second of striking during combat. Whether advancing or retreating, you needed to shift into the Charge Stance.

So he made up his mind: the next time Senior Brother Li applied force, he would transition into the Charge Stance.

A few moments later, Chen Wujun felt a push from behind, the force tilting his center of gravity forward. But he'd already planned for this. He brought his shield-leg forward in a single step, smoothly converting into the Charge Stance—ready to explode into a ferocious charge at any moment.

After the transition, his upper body swayed briefly, then immediately steadied.

Watching from behind, Senior Brother Li blinked in surprise. Golden Rooster Stance to Charge Stance—it was indeed a standard transition.

He hadn't expected the kid to figure it out this quickly on his own.

But his voice carried only a sharp rebuke: "Is your supporting leg just there for decoration? You can't even stand firm—how are you going to fight anyone? Your opponent wouldn't even need to throw a punch. One shove and you're down!"

Despite the scolding, Chen Wujun hadn't fallen this time, and a flicker of satisfaction warmed his chest.

That satisfaction lasted less than ten minutes before Senior Brother Li's foot caught him on the ankle, and he went down hard.

When he stood back up, Chen Wujun's mind was far more settled. Senior Brother Li was right—he needed to master the Golden Rooster Stance first.

He'd watched Senior Brother Li demonstrate it yesterday. When Senior Brother Li held the Golden Rooster Stance, he was utterly immovable. Push him and the force would rebound right back at you, as though his feet had grown roots into the ground.

Not far away, two more experienced students stood before hemp-wrapped wooden stakes, holding the Golden Rooster Stance while periodically driving their raised knees into the wood. Each impact landed with a deep thump.

Chen Wujun watched with a pang of envy.

But to progress to the next step—striking while in stance—you first had to perfect the Golden Rooster Stance itself.

Those two students had trained at the hall for over two months before they began learning offensive techniques.

"Your knees are your best weapons—they're hammers, they're cannons, meant to smash through everything in front of you... What's with that limp effort? Did you skip breakfast?" Senior Brother Li's voice carried over as he berated the two students, the words boring into Chen Wujun's ears.

...

That afternoon, Chen Wujun was chased out of the dental clinic again. Instead of heading home, he walked deeper along Lung Tsun Road.

Lung Tsun Road was one of the few main thoroughfares in the Walled City, a corridor that cut straight through its heart. Narrow, filthy, and chaotic—yet buzzing with life and commerce.

The road was barely wide enough for three or four people to walk abreast. Signs and placards hung from every available gap along both sides and overhead.

Above, street pipes and a tangled web of electrical wires blotted out the sky entirely. The street was illuminated only by the flickering glow of neon signs.

Lining the road were convenience shops, tailor stalls, incense-and-candle stores, bone-setting clinics, electronics repair shops, and every variety of small vendor imaginable.

Stalls selling vegetables, meat, and poultry. Stalls selling cooked food. Stalls selling fish balls and egg puffs.

The aroma of food mingled with the stench of chicken and duck droppings, layered over the Walled City's ever-present reek of rot, raw flesh, and mildew.

Together, it all coalesced into a bustling marketplace that pulsed with a twisted, irrepressible vitality.

Chen Wujun drifted past several secondhand stalls, his eyes sweeping over the watches, radios, and clothing on display. These were fence stalls—everything for sale was of dubious origin.

He stopped and picked up a pair of sunglasses, turning them over in his hand.

"Those are Bolon—big brand. At least six hundred outside! Take 'em for a hundred," the stall owner piped up immediately.

Chen Wujun tossed them back onto the stall.

These fence stalls had plenty of stolen goods, but just as much counterfeit junk. Besides, you could barely see the road in the Walled City as it was—wearing sunglasses would be no different from walking around blind.

"You break it, you pay for it!" the stall owner snapped.

"I set it down gently. If that broke it, then the quality's garbage—what, you trying to scam me with knockoffs?" Chen Wujun shot back.

He walked a few more steps and crouched in front of a used-publications stall, pulling out an erotic magazine with keen interest. It was filled with nude photos of beautiful women.

"Gets the blood pumping, doesn't it? Five bucks!" the vendor chuckled with a sly grin.

"Oh, it pumps alright. Definitely pumping!" Chen Wujun agreed with a vigorous nod, then flipped through a few more pages before reluctantly putting it back.

Looking was enough. Any longer and walking would become... inconvenient.

He turned his head and spotted a scrawny young man passing close to a woman, deftly plucking a wallet from her shoulder bag in one fluid motion.

The pickpocket looked to be in his twenties—thin and undersized, with dark circles under his eyes and bluish lips. One glance was enough to tell he was an addict.

Chen Wujun's eyes darted. He kept quiet.

He watched the pickpocket move away, then followed at a brisk pace.

After tailing him for several dozen meters, Chen Wujun surged forward and seized the pickpocket's wrist, his voice brimming with fury: "You've got the nerve to steal from my friend? You got a death wish?"

"What did you say? What the hell are you on about, you little runt?" The pickpocket turned, saw it was just a teenager, and immediately bared his teeth with a vicious glare.

"I'm from Zhou Qing Martial Arts Hall. Are you blind? Of all the people to rob, you steal from my senior brother's friend? You want him to come down here and break your hands so you never work this street again?"

At those words, the young man visibly deflated—though he still refused to admit anything.

"Just back there—you lifted a wallet off a woman! That's my senior brother's friend. Hand over the wallet and we'll call it even. Otherwise..."

The young man couldn't wrench free of Chen Wujun's grip. The kid might have been young, but his strength was vastly superior.

With a muttered curse about his rotten luck, the pickpocket hurled the stolen wallet to the ground, then tore free of Chen Wujun's grasp and darted into a side alley.

Chen Wujun didn't chase him. He scooped up the wallet, ducked into the crowd, walked several dozen meters, then slipped into an alley of his own. Opening the wallet, he found two hundred and thirty-odd dollars inside, along with two condoms.

He pocketed the cash, then tossed the wallet into a corner.

'The martial arts hall identity really does come in handy!'

Chen Wujun had been searching for a way to scrape together money these past few days without success. Just now, on a flash of inspiration, he'd used the hall's name to intimidate the addict.

And just like that, his tuition had paid for itself... paid for itself...

Fifteen hundred divided by two hundred and thirty-six...?

Chen Wujun fell into deep thought.

Well, a few more times and the tuition would be covered, at least.

Still, he knew this sort of thing was fine as a one-off. Do it too many times and someone would hold a grudge—then come looking for payback.

A short while later, Chen Wujun ducked into a convenience shop and glanced at the cigarette rack behind the counter.

"Pack of Good Companions!"

He recognized the brand. His old man smoked them.

"Eight bucks!"

"Throw in a lighter too!"

Purchases in hand, Chen Wujun plunged into the alleyways and into a gambling den.

Inside, the air was thick with smoke—like walking into a fog bank. A crowd of men were packed around tables, shouting at the top of their lungs.

"Six! Six! Six!"

"Open!"

Several young toughs stood watch along the walls.

One of them spotted Chen Wujun walk in and barked: "You even finished growing yet? Coming to a gambling den at your age?"

Chen Wujun pulled out his cigarettes and offered one to the young man. "Hey brother, you seen Degenerate Hong around?"

"Everyone in here's a degenerate. Find him yourself!" The young man took the cigarette with a smirk and left it at that.

Chen Wujun stood to the side, his gaze sweeping steadily across the room. He wasn't looking for his big brother, of course—he was searching for any sign of the loan sharks from yesterday.

There were well over a hundred gambling dens in the Walled City, but the number of places willing to extend over ten thousand in high-interest loans to a degenerate gambler like his brother was much smaller—no more than thirty.

Chen Wujun didn't plan to draw attention to himself, nor did he intend to ask around. He'd use the simplest method there was: check them one by one.

Ten a day, and he'd make it through them all in three days.

Nine days for three full sweeps.