Fists can't cross Tianjin

Chapter 15 Ancestral Tradition

Chen Zhuo ignored the strange looks.

In his world, only the food on the table in front of him remained.

Pick up your chopsticks.

Pick up a piece of braised pork.

The meat trembled slightly, and before it even entered my mouth, the aroma of meat had already seeped into my brain through my nose.

Put it in your mouth.

I didn't chew it much.

That's swallowing.

The scalding hot oil burst in my mouth and slid down my throat into my stomach.

boom!

It's like throwing a piece of coal into a furnace that's about to go out.

His stomach suddenly contracted, emitting a roar that only he could hear. It was the joy of rain after a long drought, and the sound of his digestive system working at full capacity. Stomach acid secretion, intestinal peristalsis—all the digestive organs were working frantically for one goal at this moment—to plunder energy.

A bite of meat, a bite of steamed bun.

Chen Zhu ate very quickly and rhythmically, with a mechanical beauty to it.

He wasn't savoring the delicious food; he was feeding himself.

Each chew and each swallow is coordinated with a specific breathing rhythm. That is the "swallowing method" of Xingyi School, which uses the up-and-down movement of the diaphragm to forcefully compress the stomach and accelerate the breakdown of food.

Food enters the stomach and is quickly crushed, broken down, and transformed.

A surge of heat burst forth from my stomach, flowing through my blood vessels to every part of my body.

A warm current flowed through my right arm, instantly replacing the soreness with a tingling, numb sensation—the damaged cells were frantically dividing and repairing themselves. The warm current flowed down my spine, and the dormant "dragon" seemed to tremble slightly.

I started sweating.

Large beads of sweat trickled down his temples, only to evaporate quickly.

A wisp of very faint white vapor rose from above, appearing and disappearing in the dim light.

This is a sign of "refining essence into qi".

For ordinary people, eating is just eating; for martial artists, eating is practicing. Only by completely extracting the essence, energy, and spirit from food can it be transformed into internal strength to nourish the body. If this meal were eaten by an ordinary person, they would probably need three days to digest it, but for Chen Zhuo, it was a complete burning away of everything, leaving not even a trace.

Two bowls of braised pork, four large steamed buns, and a pot of soup.

In less than twenty minutes, it was spotless.

He even used a steamed bun to wipe the oily soup at the bottom of the plate until it shone, and ate it all up.

"call……"

Chen Zhuo put down his chopsticks, let out a long breath, and burped.

full.

Eat until you are 80% full.

This is the limit now. Eating any more would be counterproductive.

This feeling of having something inside me is so damn reassuring.

Chen Zhuo felt his spine stiffen, and his previously hunched posture straightened. The soreness in his right arm lessened considerably, replaced by a powerful, taut feeling.

He clenched his fist.

The knuckles made a crisp cracking sound.

He's back to his old self.

Chen Zhuo stood up and touched his empty pockets.

No money.

Not a single penny was left.

This meal was his last celebration.

Next, you'll either starve to death, or...

His hand instinctively reached for the cold, hard object in his inner pocket.

Gold coin.

That was Gangzi's only legacy, and his only hope for a comeback.

If he could just exchange this thing for money, it would be enough to cover his food expenses for at least half a month, enough for him to completely solidify his "Ming Jin" (a type of internal strength). At that point, let alone any Gangzi (another type of internal strength), he would dare to give it a try, even if ten Gangzi came.

"Walk."

Chen Zhuo tightened his scarf, pushed open the door, and walked out of the restaurant.

The sun came out, and the snow began to melt.

It's not cold when it snows, but it's cold when the snow melts.

But he didn't feel cold.

The fire inside his stomach burned fiercely, and every pore on his body closed, locking away his vital energy. This was kung fu; as long as there was food, he could forge his physical body into an impenetrable fortress.

Snow and wind are nothing.

Chen Zhuo did not return to the tenement, but instead turned around and headed towards Binjiang Road.

There was the largest gold shop in all of Tianjin – the National Bank Gold and Silver Exchange Office.

After half an hour.

Binjiang Road, at the entrance of the payment collection point.

Chen Zhuo stood at the bottom of the steps, looking at the black sign with gold lettering, and took a deep breath.

Two armed guards stood at the entrance, their eyes warily watching passersby. In those days, gold and silver were state-controlled commodities; private trading was illegal, and they could only be exchanged at officially designated places like this.

Chen Zhuo pulled down the brim of his hat and went inside.

The counter was very tall, with iron bars on top. Inside sat a middle-aged man wearing glasses, examining a silver coin with a magnifying glass.

"Comrade, let's get something else."

Chen Zhuo reached his hand through the fence and opened his palm.

A bright yellow gold coin lay in my palm. Although the workmanship was somewhat rough, its weight and color clearly indicated that it was pure gold.

The middle-aged man pushed up his glasses, glanced at it, and his eyes lit up.

He reached out and took the gold coin, weighed it in his hand, rubbed it on the touchstone, and checked its quality.

"Good quality, pure gold. Weighs half an ounce."

The middle-aged man nodded and took out a form from the drawer. "Household registration booklet, or a letter of introduction from your employer. Please bring it out for registration."

Chen Zhuo's heart skipped a beat.

He's unregistered, so where would he get a household registration certificate? As for a work permit, he's a vagrant driving a tricycle, so forget about it.

"I didn't bring it."

He forced a smile and said, "I was in a rush to leave and forgot to bring it. Could you please make an exception?"

"Didn't you bring it?"

The middle-aged man's expression changed instantly.

He put down his pen, his eyes sharpening as he looked Chen Zhuo up and down.

Wearing a tattered cotton-padded coat and looking pale and sickly, he didn't look like someone who owned such a gold pendant at all. Moreover, judging from the wear and tear, the gold pendant was probably worn on his thumb for many years, most likely an item belonging to a江湖人 (jianghu person, a person of martial arts background) or an elder.

"Where did this come from?"

The middle-aged man's voice turned cold, and he quietly reached for the alarm bell under the counter.

Chen Zhuo's pupils contracted slightly.

He noticed the middle-aged man's subtle movements.

"It's an heirloom."

Chen Zhuo said calmly, "An elderly person in my family is sick and we urgently need money."

"Is it hereditary? Which organization does it belong to? Where do you live? Did the police station issue a certificate?"

The middle-aged man fired off a barrage of questions, his tone growing increasingly stern. "Young comrade, I'm warning you, the exchange of gold and silver is a serious matter. If the source is unclear, you'll be held legally responsible! I'm looking at your stuff..."

"Its origins are questionable, aren't they?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the two security officers with guns at the door seemed to have heard the noise and started peeking over.

Chen Zhu cursed inwardly.

This damn world.

Honest people find it hard to get anywhere, while scoundrels run rampant.

He knew he couldn't get the gold. If he stayed any longer, not only would he not get the money, but he'd also lose his life. He was an unregistered resident and couldn't be investigated. Once he was in the police station, all his past would be exposed.

"I'm not changing it."

Chen Zhuo moved with lightning speed, snatched back the gold coin, stuffed it into his pocket, and ran away amidst the astonished gazes of the crowd.

"Why!"

The middle-aged man behind him called out, intending to have the security officer stop him.

But who would have thought that the kid was too fast and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Although he knew that this kid and his gold-plated accomplice were definitely not from legitimate sources, he didn't have the time to chase after them.

Shaking his head, the middle-aged man picked up the magnifying glass again and continued to examine the silver coin on the table.