The first trick: hanging upside down to scoop oil.
Yep, the wooden frame was moved over the big vat, and Jack Young hooked the tops of his feet around the rings, hanging upside down—remember, you’re not supposed to stick your feet inside the rings, but use the tops of your feet to hook yourself on. Once you’re dangling head-down, grab a bucket in each hand. The goal? Scoop out the oil from the vat.
According to Dr. Thomas Tang, Jack Young works out so much that he messes up just as often, so the oil level rises faster than expected. To keep Jack from drowning too early, he’s been given a special chance: hang upside down and scoop the oil out of the big vat.
But here’s the catch: you have to scoop two buckets at the same time. If you mess up—even if just a bit of oil splashes out—you have to pour two buckets back into the vat. And if your feet slip and you fall, no questions asked, that’s four buckets added, guaranteed.
While Jack Young was grunting his way through upside-down sit-ups and scooping oil, Dr. Thomas Tang sat calmly nearby and explained, “When it comes to martial arts, there are tons of styles—Southern Fist, Northern Leg, you name it. Even just with fists and palms, you’ve got Xingyi, Taiji, Baji, Tongbei, and more, each with its own focus. But all these schools boil down to two forces: hard and soft. Since martial arts come from ancient weapons, different weapons led to different ‘hard’ and ‘soft’ styles. Question: What weapon inspired Xingyi Boxing?”
"Ugh, another freakin’ pop quiz!" Jack Young panted, struggling to lift the oil buckets.
"So, do you know it or not? If you don’t, it counts as wrong."
"Spear! Xingyi comes from spear techniques, with Yue Fei as its founder!" Jack Young squeezed out the answer through clenched teeth. If he got hit by a stone at this moment, he’d definitely lose it.
"Hey, not bad! Looks like you’ve been paying attention." Dr. Thomas Tang nodded, then added, "But when you answered, your hand shook and splashed oil back into the vat—so, add two more buckets."
"You can’t even see from out there—how do you know?" Jack Young’s frustrated voice echoed from inside the vat.
"Yeah, I don’t have to look to know you spilled oil, and I don’t have to look to hit you dead-on. Want to know how I do it?" Dr. Thomas Tang chuckled. "The Buddha says: unspeakable."
"Damn!"
Second trick: upright splits while hanging.
This time, Jack Young was hanging with his head up, feet planted on the rings at either side, doing a massive V-shaped split in midair. His hands were tied behind his back and suspended from a beam, so he couldn’t fall or stand up.
Jack Young used to learn dance, but that was ages ago. Doing splits and backbends? Not anymore. If it weren’t for Saint King’s Relic Pearl, his old bones would’ve fallen apart by now.
Now, Jack Young’s aging waist and legs were stuck stiffly in midair, his leg muscles twitching nonstop. Dr. Thomas Tang stood above him on the beam—which was really just arm-thick—but he stood there cool as a cucumber, totally chill.
Standing there, he kept lecturing as if nothing was happening.
"Besides hard and soft, martial arts are also divided into external and internal styles. Lots of folks mix these up—think soft means internal and hard means external—but that’s not quite right. Just a few days ago, I visited Master Louis Sun. He says, if you’re good at cultivating qi, you’re internal; if you’re not, you’re external. That’s not the whole story, but it’s got some truth. Question: You haven’t said a word—why’s that?"
Jack Young rolled his eyes. "Because my legs have been numb for ages, and I’m trying to figure out how to live without them."
"Oh, your legs are numb? That’s serious. When you’re doing splits, pain isn’t the problem—numbness is. Looks like you need a little more stimulation." Dr. Thomas Tang said, pushing one of the rings farther out. "Want to stretch a bit more?"
Just as Jack Young got used to the angle, a ripping pain shot through his thigh and he couldn’t help screaming, "Aaah! It’s just a split, you jerk! If Jill Young were here, she’d show you a perfect split, no problem!"
"Oh? The name sounds just like yours, but that ‘Jill Young’—is she your side chick?"
"She’s my sister, you idiot!"
"Oh, so she’s your sister, huh? No big deal. But since you called me an idiot… I think it’s time to remind you who’s in charge here." With that, Dr. Thomas Tang pushed the ring locks out two more notches.
"Ow, ow, ow!" Jack Young twisted his whole body in protest, making the wooden frame shake. "Come on, fall down already, you jerk!"
"Down I go, then." Dr. Thomas Tang leaped gracefully, landing—without a speck of dust—right on Jack Young’s shoulders...
"Holy—crap... crap... crap..." Jack Young’s inhuman scream echoed over the Jingwu Athletic Association, startling flocks of birds. Everyone who heard it shivered and instinctively steered clear of that little courtyard.
And then came the third trick, the fourth trick... so many tricks...
That afternoon, in the Western Science class.
"Mr. Young... seriously, are you okay?" John Zhao’s voice trembled. "Should we call a doctor or something?"
"No need, I’ll be fine—thanks for worrying, everyone. Now, let’s get back to parabolas... Uh, could someone draw a parabola for me? I can’t lift my arms right now. Also, can someone help move me closer to the podium? My legs are shot, too."
"Mr. Young!" The young students rushed up and hugged Jack Young, bursting into tears. "What happened, teacher? Why are you all swollen?"
"Kids, you were born in a good era, and you’ve got a great teacher. Learning martial arts—you’re lucky! So you better treasure this good life!" Jack Young managed to lift his hand and pat their heads, a single heroic tear sliding down his cheek.
The next morning, with the sun rising, Jack Young sprang out of bed, dashed out the door, ran a lap around the Jingwu Athletic Association, hopped over the Blossom Balance Poles, and soared through the air with a perfect split kick. Landing smoothly, his eyes were full of murderous intent.
"Tang, I’m coming for you!"
From then on, every day, Jack Young went to Dr. Thomas Tang’s place to suffer—uh, to learn martial arts. And he got better fast.
One day—
"If you’re a beginner, never lift both feet off the ground at the same time. Actually, best not to lift even one."
"Not even one? Then how do you walk?"
"You shuffle, of course. See all those thumbtacks on the ground? Go fetch the bucket from the middle."
"Fine, shuffle—wait, why’d you pull out a slingshot? I knew it wouldn’t be that easy! Dodge—again? Dodge—my foot!"
"I said shuffle, don’t lift your toes off the ground! Almost every move starts by borrowing power from the earth—if your feet stay down, you can always draw strength and won’t end up as a sitting duck, got it?"
"Got it, my foot! Watch my flying tacks!"
Another day—
"Let’s see how your horse stance on the vat is going today. Up you go."
"Ha, no problem! I’ve been practicing day and night—the oil’s up to my chest, but I’m solid as a rock, see? Wait, why are you up here too? What are you planning?"
Dr. Thomas Tang grinned and kicked Jack Young right in the chest.
"Damn!" With a splash, Jack Young fell into the vat, but climbed out a moment later. "I always knew you were shameless, but I didn’t think you could get even worse—attacking me head-on like that!"
"I never said I wouldn’t attack you while you’re doing the horse stance. Why didn’t you block my kick?"
"How could I block? I haven’t learned any routines—how am I supposed to block?"
"Just put your hand up. What, you forget how to lift your arm if you don’t learn martial arts? Forget how to dodge? You used to go toe-to-toe with Lillian Snow—what happened to you now?"
"That’s just sophistry! Hey, coming at me again? You think I won’t lose my temper, old man?"
Time flew by like water—before he knew it, Jack Young had been at the Jingwu Athletic Association for fifteen days.
(Didn’t expect to make the rankings! You guys are awesome! Alright, here’s a bonus chapter to celebrate!)