novelA Martial Artist Among Ordinary People
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Chapter 29: A Martial Artist Among Ordinary People
Translator: Lan Editor: Efydatia
Suddenly, a pained cry came out of a nearby carriage, "Help! Robber!"
The old man across from them woke up immediately upon hearing it. He seemed to be hyper-vigilant.
Cong Nianwei was still leaning on Qin Guan's shoulder in a daze, and the young man seated opposite her was snoring.
A young man ran fast from the nearby carriage holding a small black bag. He jumped and leapt fast through the open door into the carriage, where the passengers were all sleeping in a state of great disorder.
A middle-aged woman was running after him. Her hair was messy and she looked upset. The expression in her eyes was one of fear and helplessness. She was pursuing the young man like crazy, but the distance between them was getting bigger.
The young robber was two steps away from reaching the open door. In such a small station, this late at night, he would be able to get away as long as he rushed out of the exit of the platform.
The middle-aged woman seemed to realize this. The expression in her eyes was getting more and more disappointed. She slowed down unconsciously.
The young man seemed proud of himself. Suddenly, someone grabbed him by the back of his neck and dragged him back. He struggled to get free, but he was not in control of his body, and he ended up falling head first to the floor.
Qin Guan was already wide awake. He gently woke Cong Nianwei up, pushing her off his shoulder. He explained to her what was going on and stood up to help.
The robber had been pulled back by someone who kept tugging at him sharply. It was the old man opposite Qin Guan who had stopped him.
He was standing right in the face of the robber with his arms crossed. He looked like he was watching a poor slug.
The young robber, who had found himself suffering defeat just on the verge of victory, stood up. He looked both angry and ashamed.
The majority of the passengers in the carriage had woken up. Watching the scene, they hastened to reminded the owner, who looked stupefied, "Call the railway police at once!"
"That's it! Don't let him go!"
The middle-aged woman mumbled something as she nodded to the crowd appreciatively and squeezed to the other side of the carriage to call the railway police.
People created a small circle around the young man to prevent him from escaping before the policemen arrived. By then, all the young man cared about was giving the old man a lesson.
Wrapping the stolen bag around his waist, he charged at him. The old man remained calm. Before the robber could rush at him, he stretched out a hand and hit the young man's left cheek. The young man fell to the floor.
He looked badly beaten. His eyes were red and he shouted loudly as he got up again. He seemed to have a death wish. There was another clapping sound as the old man slapped his right cheek this time.
The young man covered both cheeks with his hands and breathed heavily, flushing with humiliation.
He climbed up from the floor with a roll, and then took a flick knife out of his pocket and flipped it open.
The sharp blade reflected a cold light under the light of the carriage. People in the carriage held their breath and took a small step back.
The robber was about to risk his life by using that lethal weapon. Several kind-hearted people stood aside and warned the old man, "He has a knife. Be careful."
"Right. Don't fight with him, no matter what. Wait for the policemen."
Leaving little time for the old man to react, the young man stabbed him directly with the knife.
The old man, on the other side, seemed to be in no hurry. He took a starting pose, blocked the knife with his left hand and clapped his right hand over it.
He didn't spare his strength this time. The young man flew over and landed on the floor with a loud sound. The knife in his hand was thrown away. A kind passenger kicked it away with his foot.
The young man stood up again, shaking. He looked confused and stupefied as he stared at the old man before him, who was still in a fighting stance.
Several rounds of fighting went by in a flash. Qin Guan stared at them, offering no help. Cong Nianwei kept her eyes wide open while she remained in her seat.
The most shocked person in the carriage had to be the young man sitting beside the old man. His jaw had opened wide right from the start, so much so that it looked like it had been dislocated. A drop of unknown liquid, which looked suspiciously like saliva, dripped from the corner of his mouth down to the table.
The old man finished his moves just as the railway policemen arrived to take away the battered young man. The old man also had to give a statement about the whole incident.
When they all left, the carriage was left boiling. The passengers talked heatedly about what just had happened. This had to be a real martial artist. He'd beaten a strong young man in just three rounds!
The young man sitting beside the old man was particularly excited. He kept murmuring to himself like he had a mental disorder, "A martial arts master indeed. He definitely was a master. Did you see his stance? His legs were steady as a rock."
Not long after, the old man returned. The railway police understood what had transpired and had let him go for the time being. The train had already started to pull off the small station.
With an obsessed, worshipping expression his eyes, the young man observed the old man again. Looking at the firm willpower in his gaze, he thought the man must have a profound inner power. That and his low-profile attitude made him sure he was a martial arts master.
Qin Guan was also curious about the old man. He opened a can of beer, filled a jug and handed it over to him. Have some beer to relieve the shock.
The old man was not one for decorum. He took the jug and finished half of it in one go. The young man beside him accepted the jug to please him. He put it on the table and told him cautiously, "Eldest brother, you are indeed a martial arts master!"
The old man laughed casually, "That was nothing. I'm a long away from being a master."
The young man swallowed his spittle. How was that far from being a master? He went on, "How do you call your movements? Could you please teach me?"
The old man sized the young man up from head to toe and shook his head, "They are quite simple Plum Blossom and Mantis Fists movements, but you don't seem to be into physical exercise. Your body is not made for martial arts. It would be a snow job for you."
Then pointing at Qin Guan, he said, "This young brother does not look too bad, though. But it'd be no use for him to start at this age. He could only learn how to avoid getting hurt during a fight."
The old man shook his head again, "My martial arts can only work against average people. I'm far from being a real master."
The young man looked extremely dejected. He'd thought he'd come across a lonely martial arts master. A master with an aging strong body, who would recognize his excellent quality and transfer his own century-old power over to him.
The reality was that every time somebody else was fighting, the young man hid in the sidelines in fear and watched. The master had laughed at his weakness and hadn't passed his power on to him.
Before he could regain his vigour, a package of roast chicken was presented to him. The young man recovered in an instant.
The chicken was brought by the woman who had been robbed. She wanted to show her gratitude for the old man's help. She had made the chicken herself.
Inside the black bag had been her annual income for selling roast chicken.
The old man accepted her gratitude and took the chicken. He generously invited the three of them to join him in eating it.
Looking at her watch, Cong Nianwei decided not to sleep anymore after all that ruckus. There was delicious food to be had, so she'd much rather have a night snack.
As they unwrapped the oil-paper package, a delicious fragrance came out. There was a whole roast chicken inside, lying on its stomach. It was golden yellow and red. The old man held its legs and wings, and pulled. Its flesh separated easily from the bones.
They shared the chicken and filled their mouths with its meat. The skin was elastic and its flesh was fat and tender. The mixed scent of spices, herbs and meat filled their teeth and cheeks.
Drinking his beer, the old man sighed, "A cup of liquor is all I need." He smiled at the others shyly.
The young man could not spare a minute to talk to him anymore. He had already forgotten about his idol, the martial artist sitting by his side. The only thing on his mind was finishing his chicken leg before he got off at the next station.
When the train stopped again, the young man reluctantly waved farewell to the others. As he departed, he turned his head around to get a final look at the chicken in the oil paper package.
Qin Guan and the old man shared the leftover bones. Then they took a nap before the train reached the terminal station and the end of its journey.
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