Fist to Flesh

Facing the charging wild boar, Du Ruo stood rooted in place in the classic three-body stance, his hands poised in the eagle-claw form, waiting for the boar's impending impact. In that moment, he had no thought of dodging or circling around; all he craved was a head-on collision, as if only such a confrontation could soothe the violent turmoil within his heart.

The boar stamped its hooves and rushed toward Du Ruo. With only a scant two or three meters separating them, the beast barely had room to gather momentum—its charge brought it instantly to Du Ruo's front. With a sudden upward jerk of its head, the boar thrust its tusks at Du Ruo’s abdomen, its mouth gaping wide to reveal sharp teeth.

Du Ruo knew better than to meet the three-to-four-hundred-pound boar head-on. The combination of its mass and charging speed could easily spell disaster—a torn belly, an eviscerating end. His stance shifted, left foot stepping outward into the Eight Trigrams Mud-walking step, dodging left while his right foot hooked sharply, kicking the boar's foreleg at the bend. He evaded the attack and disrupted the beast’s balance.

Unable to halt, the boar’s forelegs buckled beneath it, and it slid forward on its knees, losing all equilibrium. As it skidded past, Du Ruo’s hands transitioned from the eagle-claw form into another shape. He seized the boar's tail, allowing himself to be dragged forward by its momentum. Before the boar could rise, Du Ruo executed the “Helmet Removal” technique from Eight Trigrams Palm, his hand clamping down on the back of the boar’s neck, fingers pressing hard.

This move, in human combat, would strike the base of the skull—an ancient practice meant to forcibly wrench the head as if tearing away a helmet. Yet his fingers found no bone, only thick fat and dark bristly hide, as if armored. All he managed was to peel away a patch of muddy hair from the boar’s nape.

With a grunt, Du Ruo found himself facing the boar, which now knelt, jaws snapping for his arm. He flicked the muddy lump from his right hand, then drew his left in a half-circle through the air, palm brushing across the boar’s face—a gesture from Eight Trigrams Palm called “Flower Hidden in Leaves.”

The boar shrieked with agony, the sound crashing into Du Ruo’s ears. Crimson-black blood streamed from two wounds on its head, and Du Ruo’s hand, fingers curled, was embedded in the beast's ocular tissue.

In traditional martial arts, whenever a hand attacks an opponent’s face, it serves one of two purposes: either a feint to obscure vision, allowing for a surprise attack with the other hand or foot, or a direct assault on the eyes—grabbing, gouging, or slashing, always targeting the vulnerable.

Eight Trigrams Palm blends illusion and reality, adapting to circumstance. The “Flower Hidden in Leaves” move was meant to conceal, one hand sweeping the face while the other strikes a weak point. But against a wild boar, there was no need for feints. As Du Ruo’s hand brushed past its face, his fingers morphed into claws, ripping apart the boar’s eye.

The beast howled, thrashing its head, tusks seeking Du Ruo, struggling to rise. Du Ruo moved with the Mud-walking step, circling to the boar’s side, his form shifting—now emulating the bear, he slammed his iron-shoulder into the creature, toppling it to the ground and swiftly retreating from its flailing limbs.

His assault was not yet finished. The boar’s ruined eye would never heal; left alone, it would only die in agony. Better to see it off swiftly.

Approaching the fallen animal, Du Ruo raised his arm and delivered a cannon punch to its chest and belly. The boar’s limbs jerked violently, then ceased their wild thrashing, its torso left exposed.

With another thunderous blow, his fist formed into the eagle-claw again, drilling into the boar’s heart. The beast stopped screaming, its convulsions stilled, mouth agape as thick, bloody foam bubbled forth.

Du Ruo did not stop. Drawing back, his spine arched like a dragon, vertebrae taut as a drawn bow, half-crouched beside the boar. He was an archer, spine the bow, fist the arrow.

With a roaring crash, he unleashed his power, striking the boar’s neck. A sharp crack echoed—the windpipe and spine shattered beneath his fist, ending the animal’s life in an instant.

Breathing heavily, Du Ruo steadied himself against the boar. The cannon punch, drilling punch, and the final dragon punch—all required standing leverage. True power comes from the ground, and standing allows one’s weight to multiply the force of a strike. But with the boar on the ground, Du Ruo had to attack from a squat, relying solely on his own strength to dispatch the massive creature—a feat that drained him of energy.

Yet he gained something in the process. As he caught his breath, he raised his hand before his eyes. He had not consciously infused his strikes with “Qi,” yet at the moment of impact, a faint stream of energy coursed through his wrist and joints, shielding him. This allowed him to unleash rapid, consecutive blows without suffering from their backlash.

A soft sound caught his attention from the nearby pine tree. Du Ruo turned to see a clouded leopard perched above, blood staining its mouth, staring at him in a dazed manner. Below the tree lay the protected piglet, blood still oozing from its neck—a clear sign of the leopard’s handiwork. The earlier noise had been the piglet falling from the tree.

“So that’s how it is. I’m fighting for my life here, and you’re already feasting!” Du Ruo’s face darkened. During his battle with the boar, he hadn’t been able to look after the piglet, and the leopard had seized the opportunity. In truth, his fight had lasted barely a minute—more than enough time for the predator to act.

At Du Ruo’s glance, the leopard realized the piglet had fallen. With a swift leap, it descended to snatch the little boar. But Du Ruo was faster. Without rising, he stamped his foot, drove his hips, and pushed against the ground with both palms, launching himself like a tiger toward the piglet.

Just as the leopard bit down on the piglet’s neck, Du Ruo arrived, grabbing hold of one of its legs.