Promotion

The two men also changed into martial arts uniforms, strode onto the stage, and cupped their hands in greeting to the crowd below. The reporters snapped photos in rapid succession. Neither of the two could be considered grandmasters, but they enjoyed modest fame in Hong Kong, boasting dozens of disciples apiece and commanding the respectful title of "Master" wherever they went. Everyone cleared the stage, leaving Yu Hai and Master Luo, practitioner of Hung Kuen, standing at the center. The host went through the motions, rattling off introductions. "..." Yu Hai glanced back. Chen Qi was looking over with profound worry—*They hit hard, you know! Can you handle this?* *Fuck!* Yu Hai turned back, fixing his gaze on Master Luo. Short, stout, and lean, with a solid base and powerful arms—a textbook martial artist. But who was Yu Hai? A true inheritor of Seven Star Mantis Fist! His master, Lin Jingshan, had served as a drill instructor under the warlord Zhe Yupu and earned the moniker "Eccentric Hero of the Central Plains"! His grandmaster, Fan Xudong, stood two meters tall and was nicknamed "The Giant." With the strength of an ox in an era where bouts had no weight classes, virtually no one could match him, and he took home gold at the Far East Tournament. Tracing further back, there was Wang Yunsheng, a martial candidate from the Guangxu era who founded the Seven Star Mantis Fist style! Lineage mattered across many traditional trades. Yu Hai's lineage was immaculate and his generational standing was high. Where the hell had this Master Luo across from him popped up from, and how did he have the damn nerve to claim Yu Hai hit too softly?! A spark of irritation flared in his chest. Yu Hai and Master Luo stood facing each other. They exchanged fist-and-palm salutes, stepped back in unison, and began slowly circling one another. "Coach Yu's style is rooted in the Seven Star Stance, blending hard and soft, mixing feint with substance," the host prattled on. "It's said they even condition against wooden posts and drill the Twelve Body Strikes—immensely formidable!" The host kept babbling, adding, "And we're all very familiar with Master Luo. He's demonstrated his skills on television many times. His style emphasizes hard bridges and stiff stances, solid steps and ferocious momentum, driving power with qi... Wow, look at his footwork—rooted to the floor as if anchored deep in the earth! When this punch lands, it will surely be rock-solid, explosive, and full of majest—" *Bang!* The host went dead silent, like a duck seized by the neck, his words choking in his throat. Right before his eyes, Master Luo staggered backward and unceremoniously landed flat on his rear. "..." For a moment, the scene was utterly awkward. Master Luo wore an expression of docile bewilderment. He had no idea what had just happened. *Wasn't this just a choreographed routine?! I throw a punch, he dodges, he punches back, I parry...* "Master Luo?" "Master Luo?" The host, quick on his feet, scurried over. "Are you all right?" "I'm fine! Just a slip! Again!" Master Luo shoved him aside and glared at Yu Hai, his temper flaring. *He really does hit hard!* He immediately dropped into stance and lunged forward once more... *Bang!* Once again, he was as docile as a baby. Yu Hai's fingers, thick as small radishes, clenched into a fist. When he brought it crashing down with genuine force, hardly anyone could withstand a head-on clash. Having knocked the man down twice, Yu Hai felt it would be unseemly to push further. He hurried over to help him up, apologizing profusely, "My apologies, Master Luo! I failed to control my strength. Truly sorry, my mistake!" "Get away, get away! Don't touch me! You mainland practitioners have no martial ethics... *Hiss!*" "I must have lost my mind or taken a blow to the head to come here! You couldn't pay me to come back next time!" Cursing under his breath, Master Luo ignored the rest of the schedule and walked straight off the stage. "Hahaha!" The reporters didn't care about the awkwardness; they doubled over with laughter. Coming today hadn't been in vain—this spectacle alone was headline gold. Master Liao felt his heart clench. He glanced toward Yu Chenghui. With his shaved head and full beard, Yu Chenghui looked like a final stage boss in a video game, smiling as he said, "Just a simple exchange of pointers. We'll stop upon contact!" "No, no need!" "We are all peers in the martial arts world—why go to such lengths?" He scurried straight over to Fu Chi, babbling incomprehensible excuses about "feeling suddenly unwell," "wishing to avoid souring harmony," and "not that I'm scared," which made Fu Chi burst out laughing. The entire hall, on and off stage, was filled with a merry atmosphere. Master Liao was shrewd: he simply bowed out of the contest. Without a fight, there was no winner or loser. Once this wave of news blew over, he would still be a valiant hero! With no more sparring, the event drew to a close. Regardless of personal impressions, the reporters all felt they had a wealth of material. There was the film *Tai Chi* to cover, interviews to transcribe, and martial arts bouts to dramatize. Of course, the angle they chose and whether their reviews were positive or negative depended on where their allegiances lay. ... The group packed their things, changed back into tracksuits, and boarded the minibus. The moment they were inside, the official escort's face darkened. "Xiao Chen! Explain yourself. What was all that?" "What do you mean?" "Who told you to speak back there? Who authorized you to say those things? We are in Hong Kong! A single slip of the tongue could cause a diplomatic incident. You spoke out of turn—can you shoulder that responsibility?!" "Hey, hey, what's all this?" Before Chen Qi could respond, Fu Chi and Xu Dunle stepped in front of him. "He spoke very well. What was wrong with it?" "Good grief, those are reporters! What if they go back and write nonsense? We can't shoulder that either!" the escort cried. "You think too highly of them!" Fu Chi snorted. "They're fine writing entertainment gossip, horse racing, stocks, and feng shui mysticism. They're fine mocking us for being rustic, too. But if you think they dare publish the dialogue from earlier, they haven't got the nerve. At most, they'll scold the film a bit." "Do you think if Xiao Chen hadn't spoken, or if you acted friendly, they would have praised us?" Xu Dunle chimed in. "Wrong. They would only take it as a sign of weakness to be exploited." "But... but—" "We organized this event. If anything goes wrong, we'll take full responsibility!" During this period, the British Hong Kong authorities and the mainland maintained a tacit understanding. In 1898, the Qing government and the United Kingdom signed the Convention for the Extension of Hong Kong Territory, leasing the New Territories for ninety-nine years, set to expire in 1997. Using this pretext, the British sounded out China's stance on Hong Kong, proposing that the British continue administering the New Territories after 1997. The central leadership naturally refused, replying, "If you ignore our counsel and take unilateral measures, you can well imagine what our response might be..." Yet the issue had to be negotiated. Before formal talks began and yielded a result, both sides wished to avoid trouble. Thus, regarding the Hong Kong media, the British administration barred content that praised the mainland, but also cracked down on excessively hostile attacks against it. As Fu Chi said, mocking the mainland as rustic or poor was fine, but anything beyond that was off-limits. That year, a Taiwanese film titled *The Coldest Winter in Peking*, which negatively portrayed the mainland, was banned in Hong Kong under the justification of "affecting the Hong Kong government's relations with neighboring territories." With both Fu Chi and Xu Dunle offering their guarantees, the official escort had no choice but to let the matter drop, glaring resentfully at Chen Qi and mentally adding him to his blacklist of troublemakers. The next day. Media outlets published their coverage. Left-wing newspapers offered standard, measured reports, while local tabloids went wild: "Tai Chi Primary School Delegation Arrives for Hong Kong Sports Meet!"—this was paired with pictures of the tracksuits. "Mainland Masters Raid Hong Kong: Master Luo Flies Five Meters Through the Air!" "Master Liao Grabs Crotch and Fakes Bathroom Break to Flee!" Besides ridiculing the tracksuits as rustic and panning *Tai Chi* as dull, they offered flamboyant descriptions of the martial arts bout: mainland masters wiping the floor with Hong Kong martial artists, Hung Kuen getting beaten black and blue, teeth scattered across the floor, blah blah blah... These remarks, if nothing else, infuriated one particular man: Lau Kar-leung! Lau Kar-leung's father, Lau Cham, was a disciple of Lam Sai-wing, who in turn had studied under Wong Fei-hung... As such, he had always considered himself the orthodox heir of Hung Kuen. If anyone altered or tampered with it even slightly, it was as if they were taking his life. Later, when Li Lianjie filmed *Once Upon a Time in China* and flew through the air delivering the Foshan Shadowless Kick, Lau mocked him incessantly. Seeing the newspapers claim Hung Kuen was useless, Lau naturally could not stomach it. He stepped forward of his own accord: "What kind of Hung Kuen does Master Luo practice? Who knows where he picked up those tricks! Real Hung Kuen regulates qi through the body, drives force with qi, and reinforces power with sound. Seven Star Mantis Fist is an unorthodox path—it can't compare!" The tabloids rejoiced and rushed over to the *Tai Chi* crew. By now, they had figured out that asking anyone else was useless; they needed to ask the handsome young man in the Western suit. Sure enough, Chen Qi put on a look of surprise. "Who is Lau Kar-leung? Never heard of him. I've only heard of Jackie Chan. Jackie Chan is very famous—is Lau Kar-leung famous?" "An old master? Oh, since he's an old master, he should retire and leave the opportunities to the youth... Well, I don't know anything about it, just speaking off the cuff." "We came here to promote a movie, not to fight and kill. If Master Lau wants a contest, we can arrange one later if the chance arises. I hear he has a movie in theaters right now as well. Why don't we let our works speak for us? The audience's verdict is the most authoritative." Lau Kar-leung was furious enough to choke. Given his standing, of course he couldn't actually engage in a martial duel. Meanwhile, media reception of *Tai Chi* was polarized: one side praised it lavishly, while the other tore into it mercilessly. But at the very least, buzz had been created. Many people in Hong Kong now knew that a mainland film was about to hit theaters. In the blink of an eye, February 3 arrived—the day *Tai Chi* officially premiered!