The door behind me closed silently.
Most of the people practicing were around thirty years old, the oldest probably looked to be approaching fifty, and the youngest was at least a bit older than me.
"How was it?" Eighth Master asked me with a smile.
I didn't understand what he meant by his question, so I mumbled, "Yes."
"I'm asking you, what do you think of this place?"
I nodded: "Very good."
My gaze swept over the people practicing sparring. Their movements were remarkably agile, their punches and kicks demonstrating genuine skill; they weren't just putting on a show. What struck me was that nearly half of them, judging from their movements, showed signs of military training.
After scanning the group, I confirmed that these people were quite skilled... but only quite skilled. They weren't exactly masters. At least, there wasn't a single one like Jin He.
Finally, my gaze fell on a corner where a man, dressed in shorts and shirtless, wearing boxing gloves and barefoot, was punching a sandbag.
The sandbag was hanging upside down, and he was hitting it repeatedly with a loud thud. It was clear that the man's movements were swift and powerful; he obviously possessed considerable fighting skills, skillfully using punches, elbows, knees, and legs at a rapid pace. The blows rained down on the sandbag like a storm, producing a dense, resounding thud…
Finally, after a side kick, he took a slight breath, then let out a deep shout and unleashed a powerful punch with his rear hand. The sandbag swung high into the air with a loud thud, swinging violently back and forth.
Eighth Master noticed me looking at the young man and said with a smile, "He's the most skilled young man here. What do you think?"
I nodded and said frankly, "Very good."
"Indeed, not bad." Eighth Master suddenly sighed. He touched his nose with his hand, which now only had three fingers left, and lamented, "It's a pity that our generation is getting old. There are too few young people willing to endure hardship these days. I've seen many young people who think they're very skilled, but most of them are just all show and no substance. Real skills are developed through hard work and practice. How can young people these days be willing to endure hardship!" He pointed to the young man practicing with a sandbag: "He's not bad, alas... but compared to those old hands from our generation, he's still lacking..."
I didn't say anything.
Since I was new here and not familiar with Eighth Master, I didn't feel comfortable responding rashly to his words. I just stood there awkwardly listening to him.
Eighth Master closed his eyes and thought for a moment, then opened them and looked at me slowly, saying, "Chen Yang, I understand what you just said. But getting into this line of work isn't something you can do just by making a decision! You can't make a living in this industry without skills! Although you were introduced by Fatty, I at least need to know what skills you have. If you don't have the skills, you can only do small business on the street. Favors are one thing, but I won't break the rules because of favors! Do you understand?"
"I understand." I nodded. "That's fair... I like fairness."
“Alright, then I won’t explain any more.” Eighth Master looked me up and down. “Seventh Brother just said you’re pretty good, and you also said you used to take down a dozen people with a knife back home.” There was a hint of a smile on his lips, but it was tinged with mockery. “I haven’t seen any of that with my own eyes, so I can’t say whether you believe me or not. I have seen people take down a dozen people, but that was many years ago. Most young people these days are all talk and no action. Besides… this isn’t China. Gun control in North America is very lax, it’s a completely different world from China! Even if you really could take down a dozen people, you wouldn’t stand a chance here. If someone has an AK47, even if you were Bruce Lee, it wouldn’t matter.”
"I don't know how to use a gun, I've never had any experience with them in China," I said casually. "But I'm pretty good at martial arts, I've trained for ten years."
"Everyone here has trained," Eighth Master said calmly. He suddenly smiled and pointed at the young man holding the sandbag: "How do you think his skills compare to yours?"
I hesitated for a moment.
The same problem remains: I'm new here, and I can't be too arrogant. After thinking for a moment, I slowly said, "I... I train differently from him."
Eighth Master smiled. There was a deeper meaning in his smile. However, I could tell that the smile didn't mean he was blaming me; on the contrary, it seemed somewhat pleased.
Then he suddenly raised his hands and clapped three times.
Immediately, the people around stopped what they were doing and quickly gathered around us.
From this perspective, I value this place even more! At least, since Eighth Master and I came in, we've been standing here for a while, and everyone has been focused on training, not a single person glancing at us. Only now, at Eighth Master's command, have they all gathered.
This at least makes them seem disciplined, not a rabble.
"Luo, come here for a second," Eighth Master said to the young man who had been hitting the sandbag earlier.
This guy looks very tall, probably a little older than me, but not by much. He's fairly handsome, with fair skin, but his muscles are very well-defined.
He stood at the very front of these people, his gaze cold and indifferent, only showing a gentler expression when facing Eighth Master.
"Let him use your boxing gloves," Eighth Master said, pointing at me.
The young man glanced at me, said nothing, and silently took off his boxing gloves. Eighth Master took them and handed them to me, a smile on his face: "Alright, you said your training is different from theirs. Let me see how you train."
I felt a little awkward being stared at by so many people, but I quickly took the boxing gloves, put down my bag, and took off my coat.
I slowly walked towards the sandbag, and the people on both sides immediately and consciously made way for me.
I could feel the guys behind me staring at me. Their gazes weren't exactly friendly; in fact, there was a hint of hostility in them.
The thing that Eighth Master said just now deliberately put me in an awkward position.
In an instant, I made up my mind.
This isn't China; here, strength speaks for itself! Now is not the time for me to be humble... Besides, I've just arrived here, and if I don't show some strength now, I'll probably be looked down upon in the future!
I thought about it for a moment, and for some reason, I turned around and smiled at Master Ba, then tossed it aside without putting on the boxing gloves.
When my master taught me martial arts, he hesitated for a long time before passing on a move called "Heavy Strike." The so-called Heavy Strike is a killing move! It has great destructive power, but naturally, the strike is also very heavy.
I've never known how much of my master's kung fu I've learned, but I know I'm still far from mastering it. I remember him telling me that because he thought I was too impulsive and impatient, he didn't plan to pass on many of his deadly techniques to me. He was afraid that if I learned them, I might lose control and use excessive force in a fight, causing trouble! Those deadly techniques, if they landed, would either kill or seriously injure someone!
So in the end, my master only taught me one powerful move. This powerful move was only taught to me because of my many years of hard practice. Moreover, he felt that as his youngest disciple, it would be unfair not to teach me even a single secret technique.
Actually, I know that the move my master taught me is relatively "gentle." My senior brothers, on the other hand, have truly learned some very powerful killing moves.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, I walked up to the sandbag, gently hugged the swaying sandbag, and fixed it in place so it wouldn't move anymore.
Then I took a step back, slightly opened my legs, lowered my waist, gently moved my waist, and then exhaled loudly!
drink!!
With a shout, I twisted my waist and threw a punch. When boxing skills are practiced to a high level, the punch is not actually made up of the strength of the arms, but rather the strength of the waist and legs, and the strength of the whole body is thrown out with a punch!
This is a deadly move from the boxing style my master taught me! Then I heard a bang!
With a muffled thud, and amidst the soft gasps of the crowd, the sandbag was jolted violently by the impact!
My punch was incredibly powerful, yet the sandbag barely swayed! Not even a third of the way that young man had hit it. But as soon as I threw the punch, I immediately pulled back, slowly taking a step backward…
Under everyone's watchful eyes, the thick leather covering of the sandbag was completely ripped open by my fist! A large hole appeared, and the sand inside flowed out with a gushing sound, covering the ground in a matter of moments!
"...One punch...one punch smashed the sandbag!"
Someone behind me gasped in surprise. I turned around and saw the same astonishment on many faces that I had expected. My expression remained calm as I bent down, picked up the boxing gloves from the ground, and slowly walked over to return them to the young man.
He stared straight at me, then suddenly blurted out a sentence.
"You can throw such a heavy punch without warming up?"
His words immediately reminded the others, which deepened the surprise on their faces.
Anyone who has boxed knows that delivering a powerful punch requires skill. A detailed statistical analysis reveals that in all professional boxing matches, boxers rarely knock out their opponents with a powerful punch in the first round.
Why? Because in the first round, the boxers are testing each other, and more importantly, they are warming up their bodies and adjusting to their best condition, including their strength and speed.
You need to warm up your body before you can unleash the most powerful punch in your best condition!
This analogy is similar to how, in professional basketball, players typically need to wait a few shots before finding their best touch.
I used principles from Chinese martial arts, mobilizing the power of my entire body when I punched. My waist and legs were actually exerting force simultaneously. It looked like I punched the sandbag to pieces, but it was actually the power of my whole body.
The young man stared at me, his gaze no longer cold, but filled with a hint of fervor! He slowly took the boxing gloves. After glancing at them, a strange look suddenly flashed in his eyes. He casually tossed them to the ground, gritting his teeth, "I'm not wearing these things anymore."
"Hahaha..." Eighth Master, standing behind Nanchang, suddenly laughed loudly, came over and gently patted my shoulder, smiling warmly and saying, "Little Five. Your boxing is not bad, you have some skill! Hmm... Now I understand why Fatty introduced you here. Your boxing is very good, I'll find someone to teach you firearms later, and you'll be a fine horse in the future!"
To be honest, a sense of bewilderment flashed through my mind. More than that, there was a hint of...
Hmm, a hint of displeasure.
A fine horse?
I understand, it probably means I'll be a very good enforcer, or a very good leader.
But does that mean I have to rely on kung fu, fight and struggle, and make a living that way?
Is it the same in the country, and still the same abroad?
I didn't show it on my face. After all, I was new here and didn't know anyone, so I couldn't make any demands. At least for now, this place gave me a place to stay... which was what I needed most right now.
Let's focus on the immediate situation first.
Then Eighth Master found someone to come over, a middle-aged man among the group who looked very composed: "Arrange a room for him." Then he looked at me: "Little Fifth, you stay here with me for now."
He didn't say what would happen in the future. I didn't ask either, I just nodded.
The melancholy-looking middle-aged man with the angelic hand gesture seemed to be the leader of this group of men. He was a large, imposing figure, and his gait suggested he had served in the military. He looked at me with a hint of admiration and said with a smile, "Young man, come with me. I'll find you a place to stay... Xiluo, he'll stay with you."
As he shouted, I heard a slightly surprised voice: "Hmm? Okay!"
I glanced over and, what a coincidence, it was this very young man. He was still staring blankly at the sandbag I had smashed.
The middle-aged man thought for a moment, then grinned and said, "By the way, do you have any questions?"
I scratched the back of my head and gave a wry smile: "Well... there is... when are we eating? I'm starving. To be honest, I just jumped off the ship. I only got ashore two hours ago. I've been adrift at sea for more than half a month, and my legs are still weak!"
My words made everyone laugh.
The atmosphere here was nice; these were all rough and boisterous men. After chatting and laughing for a while, they all came up to greet me and welcome me to join them. Eighth Master, however, had already left.
I greeted more than a dozen people, but I couldn't remember any of their names. I only remembered the name of the young man who was going to be living with me. His name was Xiluo, a very strange name.
Then I finally got to eat.
A large bowl of rice, topped with two large pieces of very fatty braised pork belly, mostly fat and very greasy. One bite and your mouth is full of oil, and your teeth are filled with the aroma of meat! There are also a few pieces of green vegetables, which are stir-fried.
The rice was a bit hard, and the dishes were a little bland, but I ate them with great relish.
I sat down casually on the floor next to the gym, holding a bowl and chopsticks, and started to eat heartily.
As I ate, tears welled up in my eyes.
Heaven have mercy!
I, Chen Yang, drank rainwater and sea breeze at sea, and countless times I thought I was going to die. Now, I can actually eat my favorite white rice and braised pork...
I didn't waste a single grain of rice in the bowl. After I finished eating, I even wanted to lick the plate clean. The bowl was spotless, with not a single grain of rice left.
The middle-aged man looked at me and couldn't help but sigh, "Damn, you look pretty delicate, but you eat like a tiger."
I gave a wry smile: "I've been starving for days, I'm completely out of food..." Then, feeling embarrassed, I asked him, "Is there anything else?"
"That's all." The middle-aged man said apologetically, "There's nothing left in the kitchen, and the dishes haven't been prepared yet. This is what's left over from lunch. Have this to tide you over, and I'll make sure you have a proper meal tonight!"
I stood up with a laugh, handed the bowl back to him, patted my stomach, and sighed, "Oh, stomach, neither of us ever imagined we'd be eating rice again!"
The middle-aged man looked puzzled. Seeing that my expression of emotion didn't seem feigned, he couldn't help but frown: "Is jumping ship this difficult now? Is there nothing to eat on board?"
I shook my head: "I don't know. I just encountered pirates on the way, and then I got on a lifeboat and drifted for two or three days without eating anything."
Speaking of this, I thought of Xiao Feng... and thinking of this strange woman, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in my heart, and my expression darkened for a moment.
The middle-aged man wanted to ask more questions. Siroini, having packed his things, arrived. He was wearing a jacket and trousers, also a mechanic's uniform, but it was very clean: "Let's go. I'll take you to your lodgings."
I followed Xiluo out. After passing the garage and getting outside, I realized that this auto repair shop was actually owned by Master Ba.
It's said to be the largest Chinese-owned auto repair shop in all of Vancouver, and everyone here... is "one of us"!