[Please select your reward.]
[Xingyiquan.]
No sooner had Chen Ming made the request to the system than he began to regret it. He suddenly recalled that he had fainted the last time he learned Baguazhang. If he were to pass out here, his fame would likely rival that of the socialite who ran away from the drinking party.
The thought had barely crossed his mind when the familiar sensation of dizziness washed over him. Perhaps because he now had the foundation of Baguazhang, he did not lose consciousness this time. Much like before, in a trance-like state, he saw a small stick figure performing martial arts before his eyes.
"Xingyiquan is said to have been created by Marshal Yue Fei, though some claim it was created by the founder Bodhidharma. Originally known as Xinyi Liuhe Quan, it emphasizes the harmony of heart and intent, intent and qi, qi and strength, shoulders and hips, elbows and knees, and hands and feet."
Chen Ming heard a synthesized voice echo in his mind. As he watched the stick figure spar, the voice provided the explanation; the scene was surreal. A ridiculous thought flashed through his mind: it would be twice as effective if the electronic voice sounded like a young girl's.
"The basic content of Xingyiquan consists of the San Ti stance, the Five Elements Fist, and the Twelve Animal Forms Fist. The San Ti stance is the unique fundamental training and internal cultivation method of Xingyiquan, often called the 'source of all techniques.' The Five Elements Fist incorporates the concepts of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth, represented by the moves: Splitting, Drilling, Crushing, Cannon, and Crossing. The Twelve Animal Forms Fist is a set of combat techniques created by mimicking the characteristics of twelve different animals: dragon, tiger, bear, snake, lizard, monkey, horse, chicken, swallow, turtle, harrier, and eagle."
Chen Ming could no longer afford to worry about anything else. He frantically absorbed the techniques and essence of Xingyiquan from the stick figure, becoming completely immersed. To any observer, he had merely been lost in thought for a brief moment.
Seeing Chen Ming distracted at a time like this, A-jun, the martial arts performer who had stepped up to spar, felt deeply dissatisfied. He felt slighted. Just as he was about to speak, he noticed that the gentle, humble look in Chen Ming's eyes had vanished, replaced in an instant by a chilling, sinister intensity.
A-jun threw a tentative punch. Chen Ming swayed slightly, his wrist flipping to hook A-jun’s pulse point before pulling him forward. In a heartbeat, A-jun lost his balance and lunged toward him. Chen Ming seemed to have anticipated this; he dropped his left shoulder slightly and rammed it directly into A-jun’s chest. He could have used his elbow, but if he had done that, he wouldn't be around to finish the audition.
Xingyiquan is vicious, cunning, and often targets the center line, even striking at the groin. A-jun clutched his chest and stumbled back two steps. With a look of defiance, he adjusted his breathing and charged again. This time, Chen Ming did not just defend passively. His hands moved like steel files, intercepting A-jun’s momentum in mid-air. He channeled power from his forehead to his chest, driving a splitting punch straight toward A-jun’s face.
Catch, pat, collide, press, split.
Despite A-jun’s desperate attempt to block, in the blink of an eye, Chen Ming’s fist was already pressed against his face.
"Alright, A-jun. He’s got the real deal. Little Chen, who did you learn your Xingyiquan from?"
It was different from the fierce, domineering style of the Xingyiquan practitioners he had seen before. Chen Ming's style was infused with a cold, feminine sharpness—it was incredibly eerie.
Actually, Chen Ming had his own troubles. Perhaps due to the lingering influence of his recent role as a eunuch, he had only half-understood the fierce techniques of the Five Elements Fist, yet he grasped these sinister, underhanded moves immediately. He was, quite literally, a natural-born eunuch.
"A wandering Taoist priest stayed at my home when I was young..."
Chen Ming started spouting nonsense. He had already guessed that the man with the long face was likely Yuen Woo-ping, a man whose entire life's work was captured in cinema. He might not be the best fighter in a real brawl, but when it came to making a fight flow beautifully on screen, he was the absolute master. He had a particular knack for adapting Northern-style martial arts for the screen. However, this man didn't have much status in the formal martial arts world—he lacked a traditional master-disciple lineage, belonging to the "generalist" style of Peking Opera. In terms of raw, real-world lethality, his techniques certainly couldn't compare to someone trained by a system like Chen Ming's, or even those on professional martial arts teams.
Yuen Woo-ping leaned back slightly and whispered to the man in sunglasses sitting next to him: "He has the real thing. With a little bit of guidance, he could look great on screen. If you’re still worried, we could wait for Max to recover, but that would delay everything, and the investors..."
Wong Kar-wai was brilliant in every aspect of filmmaking, except for one: he was slow—so slow that investors often threatened to pull out. Every day of shooting cost money; few investors could truly endure his pace. While his films were award-winning, their actual revenue depended on DVD sales later on, and the production cycle was simply too long. Consequently, the investors had set a very strict timeline this time.
"Ma San is a bellicose, vicious, sharp-edged, crooked, and highly ambitious man. You just said his Xingyiquan is different from the usual, and while I can't quite put my finger on why, I feel he is perfect for the role of Ma San."
Wong Kar-wai didn't bother to lower his voice. Chen Ming heard him clearly.
*Hey, wait a minute, big brother—are you insulting me?*
He hadn't yet realized who "Ma San" was, but judging by those adjectives, he knew it wasn't a good character. To describe a person like that by saying "I don't quite get it, but you're a perfect fit"—wasn't that just saying he was a bad guy too?
"There's a role here..."
"I'm willing, director!"
The sinister intensity on Chen Ming’s face had completely vanished. He was now the picture of an obedient, innocent youth. No one would have guessed that just moments ago, he looked like he was ready to dismantle A-jun.
"Hmm... I like your look. Keep this kind of sinister, feminine vibe, but I find your acting style so... strange."
"Uh... director, is there a possibility it's because I just played a eunuch?"
"Clap!" Wong Kar-wai clapped his hands, and his sunglasses seemed to vibrate.
"That's the flavor! But the lines and movements shouldn't be too dainty. Can we use this style for the combat? Can it be done?"
He was asking Yuen Woo-ping. While Chen Ming could fight, this wasn't the World Martial Arts Tournament; professional advice was still needed. Yuen Woo-ping felt a bit of regret that his own apprentice, Zhang Jin, had missed the film due to injury, but he knew this man was more suited for the role.
"No problem, director."
This crew was unusual. Most productions rarely confirmed a role on the spot, but after a quick word between Wong Kar-wai and Yuen Woo-ping, it was settled. To Chen Ming’s further surprise, as soon as he stepped out of the audition room, someone was there to negotiate his pay.
They offered him 900,000. And they could pay it today.
This attitude made Chen Ming feel like he had been lured onto a pirate ship. A crew like this was either incredibly wealthy, about to go broke, or... this director was just a master at torturing his actors.
It felt like hazard pay for his mental health.