The Way of Restraint

The two hands made contact.

The moment they touched, Su Jie sensed Yang Shu’s extraordinary quality. Unlike every other Tai Chi practitioner he had encountered, Yang Shu’s arm seemed to contain force yet also seemed to have none. If you applied force, he had none. If you had none, he had force.

This interweaving of real and fake, the interplay of yin and yang, the empty emptiness—it was so maddening it could make a person vomit blood.

When a Tai Chi grandmaster made contact, they could toy with an opponent in the palm of their hand. This was that kind of skill.

Of course, if one were to engage in a real fight, no one would first make contact and test force through pushing—they would simply throw punches at the face or sweep with kicks at the body. At that speed, there was no opportunity to neutralize force.

But what they were competing in now was push-hands, not fighting. They had to strictly follow the rules.

Just as in a boxing match, if you used legs, knees, or elbows, that was absolutely not allowed.

*”The number one Tai Chi master’s changes in force are already empty and loose, open-minded as an empty valley that can contain a hundred rivers, swallowing and spitting the transformations of all things. I have truly witnessed it,”* Su Jie thought. He sensed Yang Shu holding back, waiting. He was fortunate to have been exposed to Tai Chi push-hands before and had tested it many times during the morning’s competition. If this were his first encounter, he might have suffered a small loss.

Since his opponent was as immovable as a mountain, Su Jie could not remain still either. He pushed his arm forward, slowly sending force, like a fully armed army advancing with steady, thunderous steps. Though slow, the momentum was unstoppable.

Yang Shu’s expression suddenly turned grave.

In the contact, he had hidden all the force in his body, alternating between real and empty, swallowing and spitting, using a combination of many forces infused with sharp counterattacks.

Yet Su Jie advanced like a forest, precisely using substance to defeat cleverness.

It was like two nations at war. One nation laid traps everywhere, employed schemes, spread rumors, and exhausted every trick. But the other nation simply produced, built its military, advanced step by step—conquering one place, occupying it, constructing and managing it—using the most plain, most ordinary, and most upright methods to break through every change.

The result was obvious.

Like the Three Kingdoms era—even if Zhuge Liang was as brilliant as a god, he could not withstand the military buildup of Cao Wei.

Su Jie’s Hoe Strike technique was itself plain and unadorned. The most lowly farming tool, integrated into boxing, was also as rustic as it could be. Yet it was precisely the force of this single technique that the old-generation martial arts world called the “King of Ten Thousand Punches,” known as the most ruthless and most vicious.

Yang Shu actually felt a sense of helplessness.

A phrase appeared in his mind: “When a scholar meets a soldier, reason cannot be explained.”

Boom…

The bones, muscles, and airflow within his body began to work, transmitting to his arm. He also began to change—his force suddenly becoming thick and powerful, clashing head-on with Su Jie.

Tai Chi emphasized four words: “Do not yield, do not resist.” “Do not yield” meant sticking to the opponent. “Do not resist” meant that when the opponent’s force came, do not meet it head-on; instead, neutralize the opponent’s force.

When the opponent is solid, use emptiness. When the opponent uses emptiness, use solidity.

But now, Yang Shu had violated the principles of Tai Chi and met the force head-on.

The reason was simple: Su Jie’s push could not be neutralized. It was like an army advancing—no tactics were of any use. Only national strength could be brought to bear.

At this moment, skill was useless.

As the two met head-on, a sharp crack sounded from where their arms made contact, like the snapping of a whip.

Both stepped back a pace.

Both of their expressions grew even more grave.

Su Jie stepped forward again, extending his hand once more to make contact with Yang Shu.

Yang Shu pushed forward; Su Jie drew the force downward. Yang Shu lifted consecutively; Su Jie pulled to the left.

Now the two had truly begun a real push-hands contest. When you applied force, I neutralized it; when I applied force, you neutralized it. As they pushed back and forth, their forces interlocked like the teeth of a saw—like a game of chess growing increasingly complex.

*”This kid is young and strong—it’s not surprising his boxing technique is exquisite. But his push-hands force application is also so precise, his insight so deep—he can sense every single one of my forces the moment the thought arises in my mind. Truly formidable.”* During the push-hands exchange, Yang Shu had already recognized Su Jie’s skill. His opponent could even detect the thoughts in his heart.

Su Jie felt the same way. Whatever force he wanted to send, his opponent could anticipate it in advance.

The two of them were like two machines testing each other—or two computers sharing information, responding to each move as it came, back and forth, maintaining an absolute balance.

If one side lost balance, the entire situation would collapse.

To outside observers, Su Jie and Yang Shu were simply pushing back and forth, without any intense activity.

Liu Shi shook his head, not understanding, and asked Takeshi Omoto: “Mr. Omoto, how are these two doing now?”

“Evenly matched,” Takeshi Omoto observed very carefully. “Their push-hands forces are in a delicate balance, cycling back and forth, absolutely marvelous. Every pushing force, every neutralizing force, every counter-force is perfectly placed. Wonderful! Truly wonderful!”

Liu Shi could not see where the wonder lay, but he also enjoyed push-hands and could vaguely sense something different. Every time he practiced push-hands with Yang Shu, the moment they made contact, Yang Shu would control him. The force he sent and withdrew could toy with him like a puppet.

But now, pushing with this young man named Su Jie, apart from the first exchange, everything was smooth and peaceful—coming and going, advancing and retreating.

“This young man can match Yang Shu in push-hands—that is truly remarkable. In a push-hands competition, even the world’s number one fighter could not defeat Yang Shu,” Liu Shi knew.

The world’s number one fighter was Suo Luo. If he entered a push-hands competition, he would certainly lose to Yang Shu. But if Yang Shu entered a fighting match, he would certainly be beaten into a retreat by Suo Luo.

If the two of them encountered Gu Yang on the street, they might both be killed by his hidden weapons.

Su Jie and Yang Shu went back and forth, pushing for a full five minutes. The speed of their pushes grew faster and faster. Only now did Liu Shi finally see something spectacular.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…

Their arms made contact, appearing stuck together. Yet at the point of contact, crackling sounds erupted one after another, like two electrical wires touching.

This was where their forces interwove and shifted.

One thought after another arose in Su Jie’s mind. These thoughts drove his body, sending out forces, attempting to transmit through his arm, disrupt Yang Shu’s center of gravity, and destroy his opponent.

Yang Shu was doing the same.

In Yang Shu’s mind, he had keenly detected the changes in Su Jie’s force. He had found the “blind spot” on Su Jie’s body. But every time he prepared to destroy it, the blind spot had already shifted.

He felt like an eagle, and his opponent was a cunning rabbit—impossible to catch.

During their push-hands, both could detect the other’s Hooke blind spot. But neither could destroy it.

Because in motion, the Hooke blind spots of both leaped and shifted.

This was somewhat similar to the shifting of acupoints in martial arts novels.

*”Truly exhilarating. I never imagined that a push-hands contest could be even more mentally draining than a life-and-death battle,”* Su Jie thought. During this process of struggle, he felt immense satisfaction.

He felt that his technical level had made tremendous progress. Training in fighting, in combat, in wrestling—all of it could be gained through push-hands.

Although he was competing with Yang Shu, for him it was also a form of training. The difference was that having an expert like Yang Shu as his sparring partner allowed him to quickly grasp the deeper principles of force change in Tai Chi push-hands.

Moreover, this was not a master feeding techniques to a disciple. Yang Shu was going all out to protect his own disciple’s honor and his own reputation.

This kind of sparring—fueled by full concentration of spirit and energy—was all the more rare.

Detecting blind spots, delivering force, disrupting.

Push-hands cycled through this process repeatedly. Su Jie had the feeling of exploring science, of truth right before his eyes. His movements grew faster and faster, his rhythm more and more urgent. As they pushed back and forth, their clothes began to whistle in the wind.

Yang Shu did not yield either. He maintained a powerful, oppressive offense, deploying all the forces of Tai Chi, combining them in a thousand changes—sometimes like a whip cracking, sometimes like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami surging, sometimes like a spring silkworm spinning silk, sometimes like spring breeze turning into rain.

As the two fought to their peak, Yang Shu suddenly seemed to catch Su Jie’s “blind spot” and abruptly squeezed forward. His force rolled in like a great river, overwhelming like a tidal wave.

At that same moment, Su Jie also caught Yang Shu’s blind spot. They both unleashed their final, decisive strike.

Bang! Bang!

Two loud crashes.

Su Jie staggered backward repeatedly, unable to keep his balance, slamming into the wall. The wall behind him cracked in many places.

Yang Shu fared the same—his blind spot disrupted in an instant, he lost balance and flew backward.

The two had injured each other, with no victor.

Clap, clap, clap, clap…

Takeshi Omoto stood up. “Excellent, excellent. Neither of you has won or lost. There is no need to continue. Tai Chi push-hands is not about fighting to the death—it is merely about observing who has greater mastery of force application and self-balance.”

“Let’s move to another room,” Liu Shi ordered.

This room was in disarray.

The five moved to another quiet room. Yang Shu, having now recognized Su Jie’s skill, had much softened his expression. During the contest, most of his anger had dissipated. After sitting down, he spoke: “Young friend, your Heart-Mind Intent Boxing is truly divine. I have seen some experts in Heart-Mind Intent as well, but you are very different from them.”

“The postures are similar; it is the intent that differs,” Su Jie said. He had indeed modified the adze-hand technique of Heart-Mind Intent Boxing. The postures were more precise, the intent more adjusted—he had incorporated his own elements into it.

One adze, one mountain and river. One adze, one cycle of growth and decay. One adze, one spring and autumn. One adze, one life.

History is turned over with each swing of the adze.

Su Jie’s adze-strike—lifting upward, striking downward—had gained something new in this push-hands contest. The changes in force were more unpredictable, the flaws in body and mind fewer.

*”Given time, once I break through the realm of enlightenment, I may be able to contend with Zhang Hongqing,”* Su Jie thought.

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