Chapter 10: Transmitting the Art, The Six Harmonies and the Eight Extremes
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The news of the New Concept Competition had yet to arrive, but the new year thundered in relentlessly.
Wishing his senior brothers who had stayed up until the end a Happy New Year, Fang Xinghe felt a trace of daze deep within his heart.
Had this era finally accepted him?
It was only when Yu Xiaoduo hugged him, laughing and jumping with joy, that he suddenly realized—actually, the era never cared about anyone; it was he who had finally accepted the era before him.
With this thought, his heart suddenly expanded.
At that moment, Senior Brother Chen, holding a whisk, swept it toward him: “Junior Brother Fang, come, come, wave this whisk and sweep away all your troubles to the west; embrace the Taiji, and summon countless auspicious energies from the east. In this new year, I wish you all your heart’s desires and success in everything.”
Fang Xinghe smiled, eyes curved with warmth: “Thank you, Senior Brother. Happy New Year!”
“Senior Brother Chen, what about me? What about me?” Yu Xiaoduo approached eagerly, unable to wait, “Where’s my blessing?”
“They’re all here, all here, hahaha!”
After receiving the auspicious words, Yu Xiaoduo scampered around the room seeking large sums of money, each old copper coin wrapped in red paper, filled with the blessings of the Xuanmen Sect.
Fang Xinghe did not reach out but was forcibly handed several by his senior brothers, smiling as he fondled them in his hands.
It was the first New Year’s Eve since his rebirth, and Fang Xinghe spent it both fulfillingly and peacefully.
…
Starting from the first day of the lunar year, Master Zhong personally demonstrated and taught two genuine martial arts.
The first was a skill Fang Xinghe never expected—The Six Harmonies Spear.
Master Zhong held a jujube wood staff that must have been about seven meters long and explained in a few words why he was teaching this art.
“To master a weapon, you must understand the weapon.
Martial arts have a long history, but only a few truly effective weapons exist.
Bows, crossbows, armor; spears, halberds, swords, shields; armor-breaking hammers and maces; hidden weapons and darts.
Among them, the spear is king of all weapons, the foremost in actual combat after bows and crossbows.
But I teach you the Six Harmonies Spear not for reckless bravado but because the spear is easiest for grasping the flow of force during practice.
By shaking the long staff and sensing its rebound, you learn to neutralize and balance it; only then can true skill emerge.
Once you have this ‘force,’ holding a sword will be effortless.
Besides, you are in your developmental stage. Training with the spear now should greatly enhance your coordination.”
“Master Zhong, thank you for your effort. I am deeply grateful.”
Fang Xinghe bowed respectfully, concentrating fully on learning.
The basic techniques of the Six Harmonies Spear were very simple.
Trembling, shaking, blocking, grasping, and piercing motions combined with fundamental footwork were taught quickly.
But this art was easy to learn and difficult to master; relying solely on time would require a lifetime.
Fang Xinghe, however, was unconcerned—he had a cheat.
After finishing the basics and forms and practicing for just one day, a new entry appeared on his personal skill panel: Six Harmonies Spear Level 2.
The second art Master Zhong taught was again not the Wudang fundamentals but Baji Fist.
“Today I will teach you the Mengcun Wu-style New Form of Baji Fist.
The three main lineages of Baji share the same foundation, but the New Form has the most routines and looks the best in combat.
Recently, the national sports federation has been compiling standardized martial arts performance routines, and the Baji portion is extracted from the Mengcun New Form—perfect for you.”
The New Form was visually striking and powerful, a sharp contrast to Taiji.
However, this fist style was also the most complex, ranging from foundational stances to the small frame, culminating in the 24 movements of the New Eight Techniques of Xingpi Lianshou.
When Fang Xinghe reached the New Eight Techniques, he immediately recognized them—weren’t these the viral signature moves famous online in later generations?
The Three Points of the King of Hell, Fierce Tiger Climbing the Mountain, The Three No-Regards at the Gate, Overbearing King Bends the Reins, Facing the Wind Sunrise Palm, Left and Right Forceful Gate Openings, Yellow Oriole Double Claw, and Earth-Piercing Heaven Cannon.
After AI rendered these into real-life animations, they made every young man’s heart tremble with admiration.
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Learn them!
Not only must he learn them well, but he must also practice them to perfection.
Wong Kar-wai turned “The Grandmaster” into “The Palace II,” with Liang Chaowei’s fight scenes as bad as a violent thug from Sichuan and Chongqing; when the opportunity arises, his brother intends to shoot a “Last Grandmaster” to shame them all.
Determined, Fang Xinghe began diligent practice.
Both arts originated from the Baji school; the order—spear before fist—was likely because Master Zhong sensed Fang would not remain long, so he taught the easier first.
Sure enough, on the afternoon of the eighth day, the steadily growing starlight value suddenly leapt sharply.
Fang Xinghe immediately realized his essay had finally caught the judges’ attention.
Judging by this reaction, the impact must have been significant.
Not just significant—profoundly strong.
Renowned writer Ye Xin and Fudan University’s literature doctoral advisor Chen Sihe were reviewing manuscripts together when Chen first saw the piece “Damn Youth, Youth Fucked Up.”
At first, he skimmed through it, but about fifteen seconds and four or five paragraphs in, he stopped abruptly, searched through all the manuscripts, then passed another essay titled “Sex, Violence, and Lies” to Ye Xin.
“Old Ye, put aside your usual stuff and take a look at this kid’s work.”
“What’s up?” Ye Xin looked up, adjusting his glasses, “Is it interesting?”
“More than interesting; this one’s something else. Hey! The kid is only thirteen.”
“Alright, let me see.”
The moment Ye Xin glanced at the title, a sharp jolt electrified his spirit.
Chen Sihe resumed reading “Youth,” pondering it carefully.
[How do you perceive youth?
I mean, have all of you who read this line ever truly contemplated the joys and pains of youth?
If you have no answer yet, listen to me.
I’ll state the conclusion right here—no negotiation—but you can argue all you want.
The happiness of adolescence comes 100% from bullshit, ignorance, heartlessness, recklessness, and foolishness.
I once said: The mentally ill think widely; fools enjoy life most.
You see, the sages have already made this clear.
Happiness is simple—don’t overthink.
And as for the so-called pains of youth…
Really, you all love to gild your own faces. What is pain? It’s constant suffering.
The generation before last suffered so badly their spirits became impotent, unable to rise or harden, except for a single moment, hence the rise of “pain literature.” I see several familiar names among this year’s judges.
Our generation’s wounds aren’t deep and our pains aren’t real, so when we complain it sounds pretentious and affected.
I think we might be producing “groin pain literature.”
But regardless of differences, our two generations, as well as the trembling but silent 1970s generation caught in between, all had miserable adolescent years.
From my observation, adolescence is the toughest period for most because you’re always trying to please someone or something…]
“Good! Excellent!”
Chen Sihe had just finished the text and was about to mull it over when Ye Xin suddenly clapped the table in appreciation.
Not only that, Ye Xin eagerly asked, “Old Chen, is there more?”
Chen handed over the last essay, “Growing Up,” clutching “Youth” tightly: “You read this one first; I still need to think over this one.”
Across the room, Wang Meng looked up curiously: “Is it that good? Let me see too.”
Ye Xin passed “Sex,” excited: “It’s not just good in the usual sense, you know? Never mind, you’ll see.”
There were only three essays in total; Chen Danya, not getting any, sidled close to Chen Sihe and asked, “How does he compare with that kid Han Han?”
“Not in the same league.”
Chen Sihe shook his head, eyes never leaving the manuscript.
“Han Han is a rare mature youth, with a seasoned perspective and deep thoughts; his witty banters make great writing. But Fang Xinghe…”
“Is out to beat everyone, wild, arrogant, and fierce!”
“In short, spicier and wilder than Han Han.”
“You’re making me more curious. Hurry up and read, stop teasing.”
The room quickly quieted down, only the sound of pages turning.
In these times, writers either make a fortune, shamelessly shameless, or purely pure.
Those gathered here, willing to spare time as judges for students, naturally hoped to contribute to ‘the improvement of secondary school Chinese,’ and ‘new blood in the literary world.’
With pure intentions, judging solely by the writing, Fang Xinghe inevitably caught their eye and enchanted their hearts.
After everyone had read through the pieces, Wang Meng joked, “Old Ye, you wrote ‘Our Generation of Young People,’ right? What do you think of this new generation?”
“Can’t compare, can’t compare. When I was thirteen or fourteen…”
Ye Xin waved his hand modestly, frowned as he recalled, then smiled, “Hmm, I was probably still cluelessly dreaming about sex, too scared and incapable of putting it into words…”
“Ha ha ha ha ha!”
Laughter erupted, women laughing most freely.
Tie Ning joked, “Old Ye also wrote ‘Wasted Years,’ part of the pain literature that got slammed by the kids.”
“Damn!” Ye got flustered, “Aren’t you part of the generation before last?”
“I’m a woman; I don’t need to be ‘hard,’” Tie replied confidently.
“Ha ha ha ha!”
Everyone laughed uproariously, joy bursting forth.
Wang Yali self-deprecatingly said, “You all at least have names and reputations, unlike us ’70s kids, only fit to tremble~~”
“This kid is really fierce and wild.”
“Better to be wild; literature needs wildness, not conformity.”
“So, approve everything?”
“Maybe not ‘Sex.’ Two essays are enough.”
Chen Danya was the first to oppose; Li Qigang, project director of New Concept, nodded.
“Yes, the final book is for the majority of school youth; ‘Sex’ is inappropriate.”
“Such a pity.”
“Eh, what’s to pity? The kid will publish and circulate it someday anyway.”
“True, Xiao Fang looks like a handful.”
“If he’s your son, would you prefer him to be a handful or a fool?”
“Are you crazy?! If my son had such talent, I’d accept him being a handful!”
“Ha ha ha!”
The editorial department was filled with laughter and joy. Discovering a promising talent brought real meaning to their work.
Thus, on the tenth day, a rapid-response numeric code was sent to Fang Xinghe’s pager by Bao Fu.
Fang Xinghe called his home; from the receiver came Bao Fu’s excited scream.
“Bro! You passed! On March 27th, go to Shanghai for the semi-finals!”
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