Volume Three: Ancient City Breeze Chapter Twenty-Four: The Unspoken Battle

The fourth bout of the martial arts tournament was a friendly match centered around the transgression known as "Dao-lessness"—a failure to follow the Way—one of the Ten Evils. The fight was not a struggle between good and evil, but rather a contest to determine who was better qualified to represent righteousness and virtue in addressing such misconduct.

Dao-lessness implies a lack of moral principles and wanton behavior. In contemporary society, there are still those—unworthy descendants who rely on their strength, influence, or background—who act without principle and behave recklessly. The position Chen Chen was vying for required him to confront exactly these types of people: those who live and act without reason, driven only by their own whims.

The opponent tasked with facing Chen Chen was another formidable officer from the military, serving as the government’s representative. He did not represent evil, nor did he represent the unprincipled; he served solely to evaluate Chen Chen’s strength and determine if he truly possessed the capability to contend with such individuals.

Chen Chen felt the weight of the pressure. In today’s world, such people truly exist—those who, for the sake of money, act without restraint, rules, reason, or regard for the law. In times past, such people would have been swiftly dealt with. Today, as Chen Chen stood on the arena floor, facing a seasoned military combatant, his qualification to confront the Dao-less would be decided entirely by whether he could pass the military’s rigorous assessment.

In the arena, Chen Chen centered himself and focused his breath. On the other side, the military representative initiated the attack. He was a master of combat arts, tall and lean, dressed in his military uniform. Before Chen Chen had fully gathered his internal energy, the officer had already closed the distance. Bracing his hands on the ground, he unleashed a sweeping kick toward Chen Chen.

Facing the force of this strike, Chen Chen pushed off the ground with his toes, shifting his center of gravity backward and drifting away. It was a graceful retreat, like flowing water, a high-level movement technique born from years of diligent, solid practice.

The tall officer missed his mark, regained his footing, and immediately launched another strike. This exhibition match was about who possessed the reason and moral standing to represent the order, justice, and kindness of the world. Martial arts have evolved; it is no longer the era where the strongest fist or the greatest power dictates everything. Today, that foundation is integrated with deeper principles—a pursuit of upholding justice and dispelling evil. In the past, power was supreme; today, various forces are organically combined, and every action is governed by rules. One may strike, but it must be supported by reason.

Chen Chen used his movement technique to step aside, and as soon as his feet touched the ground, he saw the tall officer’s kick coming from the front. Chen Chen crossed his palms to block the blow. The officer clenched his fists and rolled his neck. This was a clash between two different systems: combat sports versus traditional martial arts. Combat sports emphasize the mastery of the body—speed, power, precision, and balance. Traditional martial arts, however, rely on the accumulation of years of practice, focusing on the cultivation of internal essence and the Dao that supports one's offense and defense.

When the kick failed to land, the officer pressed his advantage, throwing a heavy punch toward Chen Chen’s midsection. The officer represented the state’s military, backed by countless soldiers who could easily handle such petty criminals. Because Chen Chen was merely a candidate who had yet to pass his assessment, the officer felt a touch of condescension and aimed to teach him a lesson.

Chen Chen remained calm. He raised his hand, turned his body, and employed the principles of Taiji to parry the heavy fist. He guided the force away, and using the officer’s own momentum, he grabbed the arm and pulled, executing a move that used "four ounces to deflect a thousand pounds." He sent the officer stumbling, nearly face-planting him onto the floor. The officer, however, was no amateur. Relying on years of instinct, he rolled and managed to stabilize himself, though his hands and feet touched the ground. When he looked back at Chen Chen, who stood composed and serene, a flicker of respect arose in his heart.

Though Chen Chen had successfully neutralized the blow, the force of the officer’s punch had left his arm tingling. He was genuinely surprised by the officer’s physical constitution.

The two prepared for the second round. The officer returned to his starting position, and Chen Chen set his stance. Every man has his own pride and store of effort. The officer was confident in his daily combat training, and Chen Chen was equally confident in his deep understanding of movement and Taiji. On this stage, both were demonstrating the results of ten years of hard work for a single minute of performance.

In the second round, Chen Chen took the initiative. The footwork of the Taiji path is famously fluid. One moment he was at a distance, and the next, he had flashed directly in front of the officer. The officer was startled but quickly braced himself. As a master of close-quarters combat, he did not fear the proximity and looked forward to trading blows.

Chen Chen extended his right hand, channeling his strength. His strike appeared to be a heavy military punch, but it was actually the "coiling silk" energy of Taiji. The movement looked slow, but in reality, his body had moved with extreme speed, crossing the distance in a heartbeat. The officer’s expression changed. He crossed his arms to block, but the sheer force of the push sent him staggering back several steps.

"Excellent!" the officer exclaimed. Years of training had made his body nearly impervious to impact, yet he had been pushed back. He realized the power contained within that Taiji strike. Feeling that his pride was at stake, he launched into the third round with renewed intensity.

They traded blows, the officer’s military strikes full of force, and Chen Chen’s coiling energy pushing back with every parry. After more than ten rounds, the officer was panting. Chen Chen still held some reserve, and utilizing the Taiji principle of softness within hardness, he stepped firmly and pushed the officer back with a lightning-fast palm strike.

Both men were now breathless. Fortunately, this was merely a friendly exhibition.

"I concede," they said in unison, bowing to each other as they returned to their respective sides. Having finished their exchange, they stepped off the stage. Among the spectators were two masters who had been watching.

Realizing that the two had fought to address the problem of the Dao-less, they whispered to each other: "To fight those who act without reason, they had to resort to Taiji and military combat. Perhaps it is time for others to go back and learn how to act with reason themselves."

With that, the two masters moved away from the arena, fearing they might be judged as Dao-less themselves.