Madman!

Chapter 9: Hands Are Blades, Fists Are Arrows, Knees Are Hammers

The following afternoon, Chen Wujun took a stroll through that alley and immediately noticed several shirtless men playing cards inside one of the rooms.

"One... two..." Chen Wujun caught only a fleeting glimpse through the doorway, but he recognized two of them instantly.

'Only two that I've seen before... There are more than just the four from that day...' His gaze sharpened for a moment before he ducked his head and quickened his pace.

'Even if I killed the ringleader, the others would still come to collect! Unless I could burn every single IOU!'

Chen Wujun knew full well that was impossible.

"That degenerate gambler bastard!" he cursed through gritted teeth as he rounded the corner, kicking the wall in frustration.

He felt he'd gone too easy on the man last time.

'Since I can't wipe out the debt, I need to find a way to get my hands on some money!' He recalled hearing a phrase somewhere — cut expenses and find new income.

Besides cutting expenses, there was also finding new income.

And what did that mean? Getting money from the outside.'If I could rob a sum off of them... even if things stay rough at home, at least I could cover my fees at the martial arts school.' His mind churned, and a plan quickly took shape.

'Every problem has more than one solution. You can't hang yourself from a single tree!'

'These past couple of days, all I could think about was killing them so the debt would disappear. Satisfying as that would be, I was thinking too simply... There's a completely different approach.'

'After all, I've only just started training. My skills are still just an ordinary person's. Those loan sharks have the numbers. I'd only get one chance to strike — there's no way I could take them all out.'

Chen Wujun walked on, reflecting on his recent mindset, and concluded that his thinking had been far too naive and simplistic.

At least he'd come to his senses now.

He then turned his thoughts back to the loan shark collectors: 'If they manage to collect, and I rob them afterward, that solves my immediate problem.'

'And if luck's on my side, I might even come out ahead.'

Once he'd sorted through his reasoning, Chen Wujun's state of mind gradually settled.

Though the objective had changed, the next steps remained the same.

The only difference was that his goal had shifted from killing to erase the debt, to killing to take their money.

Chen Wujun turned a corner and headed to Lung Tsun Road, where he bought a cap, then picked up an oversized black T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants.

Once he'd changed into this outfit, he looked completely different from his usual self. Especially with the cap pulled low — he could vanish into a crowd without a trace.

He then made his way to the vicinity of the loan sharks' alley and found a spot to stake them out, planning to first learn their daily routines.

Before long, he spotted two people emerging from the gambling den.

One of them was pale-faced with shifty eyes, his expression a mixture of hesitation and anxiety.

Chen Wujun pegged him as a degenerate gambler at a single glance, while the other man pointed toward the alley and said something.

Then the pair ducked into the alley together.

Chen Wujun peeked around the alley entrance. Sure enough, they'd gone into the loan sharks' base of operations.

Moments later, the two emerged again. The man who'd looked so hesitant and anxious before now had his hand stuffed in his pocket, his steps quick and eager, face blazing with excitement as he dove back into the gambling den.

Chen Wujun stared at his retreating figure and spat on the ground.

His oldest brother had probably looked exactly the same when he'd borrowed money.

After waiting a little longer, Chen Wujun spotted three men exiting the alley, all heading in the same direction.

His pulse quickened. He blended into the crowd and followed.

"That chicken-foot Dong — runs every time he sees us. This time we catch him, I'm breaking his legs!"

"Is the tip solid? He's at..."

"Tip's solid..."

Chen Wujun trailed behind them, but after catching these scattered fragments of conversation, he stopped. There was little point in following further. He doubled back to the alley entrance and resumed watching.

This time, though, he found a fish ball stall nearby and bought himself a serving.

By the time dusk was settling in, the men returned to their base looking disgruntled. A moment later they came back out — one carrying an iron rod, another lugging a bucket.

Chen Wujun shadowed them quietly. He watched as they climbed to the seventh floor of a building, first pounding on a door, then splashing gasoline across it before striking a match and lighting it ablaze.

Chen Wujun poked his head out for a look, then casually walked up half a flight as if he were just passing through, ducking behind the stairwell corner to observe.

Screams from a woman erupted inside, followed by a child's wailing cries, and a man's voice begging them for just a few more days.

Chen Wujun watched it all from the shadows of the stairwell, his expression cold and detached.

Degenerate gamblers were all the same — not only did they destroy themselves beyond recognition, they dragged their families down with them.

After a while, the men issued a final deadline, then swaggered off. On their way out, one of them kicked over a pile of junk in the corridor.

Chen Wujun remembered that when they'd left his own doorstep, they'd kicked over the clutter beside it too. He'd spent a good while cleaning up after them.

'Looks like a show of force — a way to intimidate everyone else in the building,' he noted mentally.

'Crude, but effective for piling on pressure and making debtors sweat... especially ordinary people who owe money.'

After the men had gone, he waited a few more minutes before heading downstairs and making his way home.

After dinner, he climbed up to the rooftop again, leaning against the parapet wall and gazing at the glittering skyscrapers in the distance. The teenager's eyes were filled with longing.

Then he braced both hands on the parapet and scrambled on top. The moment he stood upright, his center of gravity wobbled. He threw his arms out to steady himself, heart hammering.

Even after days of practicing his stance up here, standing on the edge between life and death triggered a primal fear that the body couldn't suppress.

Chen Wujun calmed his breathing and glanced downward.

The street far below the tall building looked as narrow as a ruler.

Scattered lights dotted both sides.

Two groups of people were facing off in the street. On any other day, Chen Wujun would have raced downstairs to watch the spectacle.

But now he merely observed for a moment before pulling his gaze back. He drew a deep breath and began his stance training. Everything around him faded away, yet distant sounds reached his ears with startling clarity.

"Shark Jiu, you dare break my son's leg?"

"He started trouble in my establishment. Breaking his leg was me showing you respect! Next time, nobody will be able to protect him!"

"Good, good, good. Hetu really does breed talent. Breaking my son's leg is showing me respect! Then if I chop off one of your legs, that's showing respect to your boss..."

"No wonder they call you Hong Yong — you really are bold! How about we set up a ring? You and me, one fight, and we'll see if I can't beat you to death."

...

"Hah!" Chen Wujun stepped back onto the rooftop, both hands braced on his knees, sweat cascading off him like rain.

But the grin on his face was impossible to contain. Every single session, he could feel himself improving.

His eyes shone with an eager light.

Soon, he recalled the voices he'd overheard from below during his stance training. Curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned over the parapet to peer down.

'Shark Jiu... one of the Four Heavenly Kings of Hetu?'

'I wonder what she looks like.'

'I've heard she's a woman — tougher than most men!'

'And who's this Hong Yong?'

The gangs generally didn't bother ordinary citizens, but Hetu's influence over the Walled City touched every corner of life — even the Welfare Association was under Hetu's control.

So the names of those major figures were known even among common folk.

Besides, over the past few days at the gambling den, he'd heard the name Shark Jiu mentioned more than once.

By now, however, the crowd below had already begun to disperse.

The two sides had stood off for quite a while — even Lidong's people had gathered at a distance to watch — but in the end, no blows were exchanged.

Hetu's Big Boss, Lin Jianxin, had sent someone out to deliver a message, giving Hong Yong a way to step down gracefully.

Hong Yong immediately backed off, tossed out a couple of tough-sounding threats, and led his people away.

Not being able to see anyone clearly left Chen Wujun feeling slightly disappointed. Then again, even if they'd still been there, he wouldn't have been able to make out faces from a forty-meter-high rooftop.

He quickly put the matter aside. After resting, he climbed back onto the parapet to resume his stance training.

Over the following days, Chen Wujun maintained the same routine — staking out the Longjin Street area every afternoon, then heading to the rooftop for stance practice each evening.

He also bought two more T-shirts and caps, changing his outfit every time he went on surveillance to avoid drawing attention.

He'd picked up this trick from "Police Report," a crime awareness TV program.

There had been a gang of robbers who wore the same clothes every day while casing a jewelry store. The police noticed them, set up an ambush, and the moment the robbers made their move, they were trapped inside the shop.

That was why Chen Wujun enjoyed watching "Police Report" — he always learned something useful.

Over four days, Chen Wujun watched the loan sharks go about their collections and picked up quite a few techniques along the way.

Things like how to pile pressure on debtors, how to corner them into paying up.

...

Meanwhile, his stance training was progressing far faster than any ordinary student's. While his advancement on the Golden Rooster Stance wasn't as rapid as it had been with the Charge Stance, it was still enough to earn a quiet nod of approval from Senior Brother Li.

After all, the boy was just a teenager. It was only natural that his killing intent would develop a bit more slowly.

"Get over here! Starting today, you do what the rest of them do — while holding Golden Rooster Stance, you strike the wooden stake with your knees!"

That day, after Chen Wujun had finished his Golden Rooster Stance, Senior Brother Li called him over to a wooden stake wrapped in hemp rope.

The moment Chen Wujun saw Senior Brother Li's stance, he knew new techniques were coming. Anticipation surged through him.

"Hands are blades! Fists are arrows — fast, vicious, precise! Eye gouges, throat strikes! But the knee? The knee is a hammer. It must be hard. It must be heavy. One knee strike should shatter their bones, rupture their organs!"

Senior Brother Li didn't teach punches. He went straight to knee strikes.

Because the Golden Rooster Stance inherently involved raising the knee as a shield — both a block and a coiled attack, transforming the shield into a hammer.

"Know why I have you practice the Golden Rooster Stance first? Fists are for distance. The knee is a close-range killer. And in a place like the Walled City — cramped, chaotic — beyond three steps you grab whatever's nearby and swing it; within one step it's grappling and biting. Your hands need to be free to tear, to pull, to create openings."

"That's when the knee becomes the hidden killing blow from below. And the knee is the hardest, most destructive weapon on your entire body!"

Chen Wujun mulled over Senior Brother Li's words and found himself in deep agreement.

For a beginner, a fist was less useful than snatching up a stick or grabbing a stool from nearby.

But the knee was different.

One solid hit, and the fight was over.

Senior Brother Li turned sideways to face the stake. In an instant, his knee shot upward — the motion fast as lightning, power surging up from the ground, channeled through his waist and hips before exploding into the point of his knee.

Thud!

"Use this part! The hardest bone right at the front of the kneecap!" Senior Brother Li slapped the area just below his kneecap. "Don't use the sides. You'll only hurt yourself."

"Your turn!"

Chen Wujun stepped up to the wooden stake, studied it carefully for a moment, then mimicked Senior Brother Li's motion — driving his knee up hard into the stake.

"Remember — it's not a kick, it's a ram! Imagine your knee is a boulder. Throw your entire body weight behind it and slam it through!" Senior Brother Li called out from the side.

"Breathe! Inhale as you raise the knee, then blast the air out at the moment of impact! Pour every ounce of force into a roar!"

"Hah!" Chen Wujun bellowed and drove his knee forward again.

Thud!

"Alternate legs! Left knee, right knee — your opponent won't always be on the same side!" Senior Brother Li stood watching, nodding quietly to himself. Chen Wujun's ability to learn was exceptional. Once shown a technique, he only needed a handful of attempts to nail it down.

But after just a few strikes, Chen Wujun's movements began to slow.

"Hurts? Good! That means your bones are getting harder. Your muscles are learning how to generate power. Keep going!"

"Don't treat it like a piece of wood — treat it like your worst enemy! Every strike must carry killing intent!"

"Starting today, get here two hours early every morning. Three hundred strikes per leg. If you can't manage that, don't bother training at all!"

Senior Brother Li kept his gaze locked on Chen Wujun, barking instructions.

Lin Zetao and the other disciples exchanged glances from the side. Ever since Chen Wujun had arrived, life had become considerably easier for them.

Over the past few days, Senior Brother Li had poured nearly all his attention into Chen Wujun.

They'd always dreaded being singled out by Senior Brother Li, but now that they were being completely ignored, the feeling wasn't much better. It left a bitter taste.

A mixture of dejection and frustration that they couldn't quite swallow.