108: Chapter 108 Media Interview: "I'm just a martial artist, not a god"

Global Focus on the Interview Scene

The Xingyi Sect branch's training ground was transformed into a temporary interview hall just as the morning light washed over the bluestone. Lenses from 28 mainstream domestic and international media outlets were aimed at the white sofa in the center. A reporter from The New York Times was adjusting a holographic microphone, the interview outline from the People's Daily was covered in red annotations, and even the exclusive camera from the Antarctic research station was connected via satellite signal. In the corner of the screen, the real-time barrage from 46 billion viewers scrolled like flowing water—messages like "Want to hear Chen Wu talk about the traditional martial arts craze," "Please ask about the underground palace expedition preparations," and "Can you teach a simple breathing technique" instantly filled the interaction area.

Lin Mo's tactical tablet hovered at his side, the "Interview Process" on the virtual screen flickering constantly: First segment "Observation of the traditional martial arts Craze," second segment "Original Intent of the Martial Artist," third segment "Underground Palace Q&A," and finally, global audience interaction. "The Technical Department just sent the data," the teenager's fingertips flew across the keyboard, beads of sweat from his forehead dripping onto the trackpad, "120 countries are broadcasting this interview simultaneously, even the United Nations official channel is rebroadcasting it, calling it 'A Spiritual Dialogue of Eastern Martial Artists'!" The tablet suddenly popped up a special question list: a student with cerebral palsy wanted to ask "How far can breathing techniques be practiced," a rural teacher wanted to ask Chen Wu to write calligraphy for the school, and an overseas elderly Martial Artist had prepared a family-inherited "Baji Fist manual" and wanted to ask for Chen Wu's guidance through the lens.

Grandpa Wang's long-stemmed pipe tapped out a muffled sound on the edge of the interview hall. The old man took out the "Record of Martial Artist's Words and Deeds" left by his grandfather, and a newspaper clipping from 1959 was tucked inside the yellowed pages—a photo of Chen Wus Great-grandfather accepting an interview, with the headline "Tomb Guardian: Martial arts is for the benefit of the people, not for empty fame," which echoed the four large characters "traditional martial arts for the People" on the background board of the current interview hall. "When your great-grandfather accepted an interview back then, his first sentence was 'I am just a Tomb Guardian, not any Great Master'," he pointed his pipe at the quote in the clipping, "Today you must also remember, don't get carried away by being 'deified'. The roots of a Martial Artist are always among ordinary people." A bronze tripod suddenly flew out of the camphor wood chest, with the character "Humility" engraved on it, and light golden Qi Energy spread along the tripod, drawing a "Steady Heart" trajectory next to the sofa where Chen Wu was about to sit.

In the Flower Girl's basket, the eight-colored petals of the inheritance grass suddenly faced the camera. Dewdrops rolled on the leaves, reflecting the audience stories from the live broadcast backend—an aunt paralyzed in bed uploaded a video of practicing breathing, her fingers able to Move slightly; a migrant worker brother showed off photos of himself practicing "Xingji Collapse" on a construction site, the sandbag made of cement bags, yet he practiced with exceptional seriousness. When the little girl mixed the eight-colored juice and dripped the colorful "Empathy Dew" onto the leaves, the petals suddenly glowed with a soft light: "Elder Zhou said this is the 'Mirror of Original Intent'," she tapped the dewdrops with her fingertips, "It lets you see the true meaning of traditional martial arts; it's not about how powerful the Moves are, but how many people you have helped."

The Section Chief of the Special Incident Response Department walked over holding a "Risk Plan" marked with potential sharp questions: "Some media might ask 'Can traditional martial arts counter modern weapons,' and others will ask 'Are you an idol packaged by special departments'," she suddenly folded the plan, "But the Technical Department's analysis shows that what the audience cares about most is still 'Can ordinary people practice Qi Energy' and 'Will the underground palace expedition be dangerous.' You don't need to prepare deliberately, just tell the truth." The tablet showed that Zhang Hao and Love were already waiting outside the interview hall; the former held a cement bag sandbag sent by a migrant worker brother, and the latter held the artwork of the student with cerebral palsy, ready to give it as a surprise during the interaction segment.

When Chen Wu walked into the interview hall wearing a washed-out practice uniform, the cameras in the venue suddenly went quiet. There were no flashy decorations, no exaggerated displays of Qi Energy; his cuffs were still stained with grass clippings from his morning practice, and the thin calluses on his palms were exceptionally clear under the lights—the barrage of the global live broadcast instantly flooded the screen. Golden "This is a true Martial Artist" and black "Down to earth" intertwined, and the messages previously worrying about "Chen Wu being deified" were instantly covered by cheers of "Fan, fan." The reporter from the People's Daily stood up first: "Mr. Chen, first of all, thank you for accepting this interview. Now the whole world is saying 'The traditional martial arts craze started because of you.' What is your take on this?"

Chen Wu's palm pressed gently on the bronze tripod, and light golden Qi Energy flowed slowly: "The traditional martial arts craze did not start because of me; it's because everyone finally discovered that ancient martial arts are not fantasies hidden in Wuxia novels, but a lifestyle that allows ordinary people to strengthen their bodies and cultivate their minds," his gaze swept across the lenses as if looking at every viewer, "I am just a lucky Martial Artist who happened to explain what everyone wants to know in a simple way."

The True Story Behind the traditional martial arts Craze

The reporter from The New York Times suddenly held up a tablet computer; on the screen was a video of a Wing Chun gym in London: Nurse Emily was using the newly learned "Sticky Hands" to help a patient adjust an IV stand, her movements gentle yet exceptionally steady. "Mr. Chen, this nurse said that your breathing method helped her get through the most difficult period of the pandemic," the reporter's voice carried curiosity, "What do you think is the most precious thing about traditional martial arts for ordinary people?"

Chen Wu's fingertips tapped lightly on the sofa armrest, the rhythm being the breathing frequency of basic breathing techniques: "It is 'Hope'," his voice suddenly softened, "I know the story of Nurse Emily. She practices breathing techniques not to develop Qi Energy, but to have 15 minutes to calm herself down after high-intensity work; there is also Aunt Zhang Guilan in Beijing, who practices 'Xingji Lean' to relieve knee pain, wanting to continue leading her old friends to dance square dances—these small things make me feel more meaningful than 'shattering a steel plate with one punch'."

Lin Mo's tablet suddenly popped up a photo; it was the migrant worker brother's cement bag sandbag. When Chen Wu saw the photo, he suddenly smiled: "When I practiced martial arts as a child, I used a cloth sandbag made by my great-grandfather, filled with sand and cotton, even simpler than this," his fingertips tapped lightly on the virtual screen, "Although this brother's sandbag is simple, his 'Xingji Collapse' stance is very standard, much better than when I was a beginner." In the global live broadcast barrage, a sea of "Teary-eyed" suddenly scrolled; the migrant worker brother's ID popped up a message: "Teacher Chen, I will keep practicing and teach my son in the future!"

Grandpa Wang's long-stemmed pipe suddenly tapped outside the hall. The old man's voice came through the Qi Energy: "And the matter of the 1958 registration book, tell everyone about it." Chen Wu's gaze turned to the camphor wood chest, and the light golden Qi Energy resonated with the registration book: "When my great-grandfather opened a martial arts school back then, the tuition was only two eggs. It wasn't to make money, but because he was afraid people would think 'Ancient martial arts are expensive and unaffordable'," he suddenly took out a yellowed slip of paper from his pocket; it was the "Xingji Lean" formula copied by Aunt Zhang Guilan's grandson, "Now I see everyone using slips of paper to record formulas and cement bags as sandbags, it's like seeing the martial arts school from back then. This is what traditional martial arts should look like—it doesn't pick people, it doesn't pick conditions; as long as you want to practice, you can get started."

In the Flower Girl's basket, the petals of the inheritance grass suddenly unfolded, revealing the seeds inside. Dewdrops rolled on the seeds, reflecting the video of the student with cerebral palsy: although his fingers couldn't fully straighten yet, he could sway slightly to the rhythm of the breathing technique. When Chen Wu saw the video, he suddenly stood up and bowed deeply to the camera: "My friend, you are more powerful than me," his voice carried sincerity, "I found the feeling after practicing breathing techniques for three days, but you have been practicing for a month and never gave up. This persistence is the quality a Martial Artist should have most." The donation area of the global live broadcast was suddenly flooded with golden gifts, not expensive special effects, but countless shares of "Breathing Technique Teaching Videos." Viewers spontaneously organized "Mutual Aid Groups," promising to help those around them practice breathing techniques together.

When the reporter from the Asahi Shimbun asked "Can traditional martial arts counter modern weapons," Chen Wu suddenly smiled: "No, and there is no need," his palm condensed a faint Yijin Energy, glowing with a light golden light under the lights, "The 'Energy' of traditional martial arts is used to protect oneself and help others, not for fighting. Just like Mr. Su Chen's Mystic Water Energy, which can freeze 'Spirit-Devouring Energy' but is not used to harm ordinary people; Elder Li Xuantong's Five Elements Energy can break traps, but is used more to teach children basic Moves—if anyone wants to use traditional martial arts to cause destruction, then they don't deserve to be called a Martial Artist at all."

The Original Intent of "I am not a God"

The interview was halfway through when a self-media reporter suddenly stood up, their voice sharp: "Mr. Chen, now people on the internet are saying you are the 'God of traditional martial arts,' capable of projecting energy, invulnerable to knives and guns, and some even say you can predict the future. How do you respond to these 'deification' claims?"

Chen Wu's peace lock suddenly glowed with light golden light, but it wasn't an explosion of Qi Energy, but a gentle fluctuation: "I am just a Martial Artist, not a God," he suddenly stretched out his hands, the thin calluses on his palms and several small scars clearly visible, "I get hurt when I practice martial arts, I get distracted when I practice breathing techniques. Last time I sparred with Elder Zhao Lie, my palm was swollen for three days, and it still hurts when I press it now," his fingertips tapped his waist and abdomen, "There are old injuries here left from practicing 'Baji Collapse' when I was young, and they ache faintly on rainy days—these are not what a God should look like."

The slow-motion shot of the global live broadcast zoomed in, and one could clearly see the scars on Chen Wu's palms: some were worn out by sandbags when practicing martial arts, some were scratched by Qi Energy when breaking traps, and there was a small scratch from being cut by leaves when helping the Flower Girl pick inheritance grass. The barrage suddenly filled with a neat "We don't want a God, we want such a Martial Artist," and the marketing accounts that had previously hyped "Chen Wu is a God" were instantly drowned out by comments of "Look at traditional martial arts rationally."

Zhao Lie suddenly walked in from outside the interview hall, holding a bronze tripod: "I'll come to prove it," the old man punched at the camera, and the dark black Baji Energy smashed into the tripod body, making a crisp "Clang" sound, "When Chen kid clashed with me last time, the punch mark he made on this tripod was half an inch shallower than mine. His energy is strong, but not invincible," he suddenly patted Chen Wu's shoulder, "Last time he didn't Master 'Xingji Lean' well, and he was knocked back two steps by my 'Mountain-Leaning Strike'. If this is a God, isn't it too weak?" The whole venue suddenly burst into laughter, the previous tense atmosphere instantly dissipated, and the barrage was filled with golden messages of "Hahahaha, real."

Li Xuantong took out a copy of "Xingyi Fist Essence Analysis" and opened the title page to Chen Wu's annotations: "Look, he even wrote the stance for 'Five Elements Combined Energy' wrong," the old man pointed to one of the crooked lines of handwriting, "Last time I taught him 'Earth Element Energy,' he wrote 'Sinking Shoulders' as 'Sinking Waist,' and his waist hurt for several days," he suddenly looked up at the camera, "This is just an ordinary junior who will make mistakes, get hurt, and feel pain. The only thing that is not ordinary is that he hasn't forgotten the original intent of 'traditional martial arts for the People'."

When the reporter asked "Are you worried that after being deified, traditional martial arts will deviate from its essence," Chen Wu suddenly walked to the inheritance grass and gently brushed the petals with his fingertips: "I am not worried, because true traditional martial arts are hidden in the formula slips of Aunt Zhang Guilan, hidden in the cement bag sandbags of the migrant worker brother, and hidden in the Sticky Hands movements of Nurse Emily," his gaze swept across the global live broadcast lenses, "The persistence of these ordinary people is more powerful than any 'deification.' They are the roots of traditional martial arts. As long as the roots are still there, traditional martial arts will not deviate from its essence."

A Warm Agreement Before the Underground Palace Expedition

In the final segment of the interview, the global audience interaction channel was officially opened. The first person to connect was the student with cerebral palsy, his voice filled with excitement: "Teacher Chen, I can eat by myself now, and I can practice the basic stance of 'Xingji Collapse.' Can you teach me another simple Move?"

Chen Wu's body suddenly turned to the camera, his movements slowing to the extreme, demonstrating a simplified version of "Sitting Breathing": "Come, follow me. Lift your hands when inhaling, and release when exhaling," his Qi Energy spread along the lens, forming a slowly rotating "Qi" character in the virtual space, "No need to rush, practice for 5 minutes every day, that is better than anything." In the live broadcast, the student followed the movements and slowly lifted his hands; although the speed was very slow, he accurately followed the rhythm. His mother burst into tears beside the camera: "Thank you, Teacher Chen. This is the first time he has been able to complete a set of movements by himself in the three years since he got sick!"

The second person to connect was a rural teacher, with dozens of children in school uniforms standing behind her: "Teacher Chen, our school doesn't have a practice ground. Can we use the track of the playground to practice 'Walking the Circle'? The children all want to learn Baguazhang from you." Yin Tian suddenly walked to Chen Wu's side and demonstrated "Simplified Circle Walking" to the camera: "Of course you can," the old man's footsteps drew a small circle on the bluestone, "You can also practice by walking in a straight line on the track. The key is the coordination of breathing and footsteps. I will send the teaching video to you tomorrow!" The children suddenly bowed collectively, and the childish "Thank you, Grandpa Yin" came through the lens. The barrage of the global live broadcast was instantly filled with heart emojis.

When the last audience member—the overseas elderly Martial Artist—took out his family-inherited "Baji Fist manual," Zhao Lie's eyes suddenly lit up: "This is the 'Baji Fist Supplement' that my Master lost back then!" The old man walked quickly to the camera, his fingers gently tracing the manual, "Look at the annotation for this Move 'Fierce Tiger Climbs the Mountain,' it's my Master's handwriting!" Chen Wu suddenly handed his "Xingji Fist" manuscript to Zhao Lie: "Elder Zhao, you add the content of the supplement, and we will perfect 'Xingji Fist' together and teach it to students around the world in the future," he said to the elderly Martial Artist in the lens, "Grandpa, wait until I come back from the underground palace, let's practice online together. How about it?"

When the interview ended, Chen Wu suddenly raised his right hand to the global camera, his palm facing his heart: "I will go to the underground palace tomorrow, not to 'seek treasure,' but to fulfill my great-grandfather's wish and protect the Legacy of traditional martial arts," his voice was firm yet full of warmth, "When I come back, let's continue to practice breathing techniques and learn Xingji Fist together. I am not any God, just an ordinary Martial Artist by your side, who will accompany everyone to continue walking the path of traditional martial arts."

The final scene of the global live broadcast lingered on the group photo of Chen Wu with the Elders of the eight major schools, Zhang Hao, and Love. Behind them were the eight-colored rays of the inheritance grass, the "Humility" character on the bronze tripod, and the "Martial Artists United" light belt formed by the barrage of 46 billion global viewers. A final line of neat text scrolled in the barrage: "We are waiting for you to come back, let's practice martial arts together." This message was lit up by 46 billion viewers at the same time, like a warm river of light, flowing over the Xingyi Sect branch, and shining forever in the hearts of everyone who looked forward to the success of the underground palace expedition.

When the moonlight washed over the interview hall, Chen Wu gently stroked the "Record of Martial Artist's Words and Deeds" in the camphor wood chest. The great-grandfather's handwriting on the title page and his words today slowly overlapped under the influence of Qi Energy— "Martial arts is for the benefit of the people, not for empty fame; I am a Martial Artist, not a God." This is perhaps the most precious Legacy of traditional martial arts: it is not the pursuit of invincible power, but guarding the original intent of ordinariness; it is not becoming a God to be looked up to, but being a Martial Artist who can accompany everyone to grow together.