The entire militia was dragged into the little valley in the middle of the night.
Everyone looked half-dead.
Flat-Rabbit had woken them all by hammering the gates like a madman, and the group was collectively furious—especially Cheng Xu. Although he was trying hard to change his old habits, he had once been a proper Ninth-Rank military officer of the imperial court, and some of that "official temper" still clung to him.
Shuffling forward in the dark, he muttered at Flat-Rabbit:
"You punk… waking your instructor in the middle of the night—if we don't see that immortal punching on the cliff, I'll hang you from a tree and let the boys practice their combos on you."
Gao Chuwu and Zheng Daniu stumbled along behind him, barely awake:
"Rabbit, don't mess with us. If you're lying… we hit pretty hard, you know."
Flat-Rabbit raised his ancestral longsword dramatically.
"I swear on my family blade—every word I said is true! There was an immortal punching on the cliff! Hurry up, all of you! You're walking like ghosts—move!"
"We're moving, we're moving…"
The group trudged along sluggishly, swaying in the moonlight like a mass haunting.
"There! Right there!" Flat-Rabbit pointed at the massive cliff wall. "The immortal was punching here! A giant shadow—so big it covered the whole cliff!"
Everyone stared.
Then said, collectively:
"…It's just a dark cliff, Rabbit."
"Hey! Flat-Rabbit!"
"Where's your immortal now?"
Cheng Xu's forehead veins bulged.
"Hang him."
"Understood!"
Several men grabbed Flat-Rabbit, tied him to a dead tree, and stepped back for Cheng Xu to warm up his knuckles.
Crack. Crack.
Cheng Xu flexed his fingers, joints popping loudly.
"Where should I start punching you?"
"I'm not lying!" Flat-Rabbit wailed. "There was an immortal here! I didn't sneak off to learn alone—I ran back at full speed to call everyone! I swear I wasn't—"
Li Daoxuan, hidden in the shadows, decided the timing was perfect.
He'd dragged the tension out long enough; it was time for the dramatic reversal.
He tapped a button.
Because earlier, he had stuck his phone onto the cliff face, covered the screen with a thin cloth, lowered the brightness, and prepared a blurred projection—so the video looked like a shadow directly appearing on the cliff.
The moment he tapped play—
A soft glow rose on the far cliff.
Cheng Xu paused mid-windup, turned—
—and froze.
A massive human-shaped shadow flickered on the cliff wall.
The figure stood still for a heartbeat…
Then burst into violent motion—punches, kicks, pivots, sweeps—all razor-sharp and terrifyingly efficient.
"Eh!?" Cheng Xu gasped.
"Wooooah!" The militia shouted in harmony.
Flat-Rabbit—still tied up—wept with vindication:
"He's back! The immortal's punching again! See? I wasn't lying!"
The giant figure on the cliff spun, lunged, and struck with lethal precision. Each movement radiated killing intent. Not a single wasted motion.
Cheng Xu's jaw nearly fell off.
"This… this fist style… every move aims straight for the kill!"
Of course it did—modern military close-combat techniques were exactly that. Not fancy, not flowery—just brutally efficient.
The militia didn't fully understand, but Cheng Xu did. The more he watched, the colder his spine grew.
If I lost focus for a second against this fighter, my neck would be snapped.
During a momentary pause in the shadow's routine, Cheng Xu turned… and bonked Flat-Rabbit on the head.
"Ow! Why!?" Flat-Rabbit yelped.
"This isn't an immortal," Cheng Xu declared grimly.
"This is a ghost."
That word sent the entire militia trembling.
"G-ghost!?"
Cheng Xu nodded solemnly.
"Only a murderous ghost could punch like this."
The militia became quiet.
Then whispered:
"…Can we learn it though?"
Cheng Xu burst out laughing.
Then instantly dropped back into instructor mode.
"Of course you can learn it, idiots. On the battlefield, you must fight like ghosts. If you go up there acting like nice guys—like that Steward San, 'don't kill this one, don't kill that one'—what are you even fighting for?"
"That's… Instructor He… it's not nice to talk behind his back. He's a good man."
"Oh, he is a good man," Cheng Xu snorted. "Which is exactly why he should never go to war. But you will. So don't copy him."
"Look! The ghost is starting the second set!" Flat-Rabbit shouted.
"Everyone!" Cheng Xu barked.
"Eyes open! Don't miss a single movement! You've gotta master Red Fist—but you're gonna master this ghost-killing style too!"
"Yes, Instructor!"
One hundred militia soldiers sat down in neat rows, staring at the cliff, occasionally mimicking a strike or kick.
Flat-Rabbit was still tied to the tree.
"HEY! HEY! Did you all forget me!? Let me down!"
Gao Chuwu and Zheng Daniu ran over, untied him, and the whole group resumed studying the Ghost-Fist together.
Among them all, Cheng Xu learned the fastest. His foundation was the strongest, and he'd already memorized half a dozen moves after watching for half an hour.
At last, Li Daoxuan stopped the video.
Enough for one night. No need to overwork them on day one.
The cliff dimmed.
The ghost vanished.
The militia sat there, staring blankly, hoping for more.
After a long while, Cheng Xu sighed.
"Shame. Only a few moves tonight. Who knows if the ghost will return tomorrow?"
"I'll come guard the valley!" Flat-Rabbit announced proudly.
Cheng Xu scoffed.
"We're all coming tomorrow. If the ghost appears, we learn. If not… well, at least we got three killer moves tonight."
"Yes, Instructor!"
The militia returned to their rooms, exhausted but exhilarated.
Only Flat-Rabbit couldn't sleep. His blood was boiling. Living in the short-labor village meant no curfew, so he slipped outside into the open field.
He squared his stance.
Ghost-Fist starting pose.
Then:
"Hey! Ha! Hey! Ha!"
In the moonlight, he practiced with wild passion.
Footnotes
"Ghost-Fist" naming tradition — Historically, when martial artists encountered styles too vicious or unfamiliar, they often called them "ghost fists" or "demon fists." It was a mix of awe and fear.
Military close-combat realism — Modern close-quarters combat systems are built around lethal efficiency, aiming to neutralize an enemy in seconds. The contrast between these techniques and traditional martial arts is intentionally comedic here.
Night-watching for martial visions — Folk tales across East Asia describe characters keeping vigil at night hoping to glimpse spirits, immortals, or miraculous skills. This chapter humorously parodies that tradition.