In my early kung-fu training, I studied a village style of praying mantis kung-fu, emphasizing deep horse stances, tremendous kicks, and very little actual, ‘mantis’, techniques (at least in the fundamental aspects of the system). My teacher emphasized the basics, foundation training, and no nonsense, hardcore conditioning. Although the actual usage of the famed, ‘mantis hook’ (the hand formation that is unique to, and instantly identifies, the Northern Praying Mantis systems), was very rarely seen in the foundation forms and basic training I encountered during my practice. However, when we practiced combat, my teacher would always expound the fundamentals of the Praying Mantis system, saying, ‘A mantis fighter does this…’, and, ‘In praying mantis, we do this…’ and so forth. While the forms I learned appeared to not have any obvious, ‘mantis’, hand techniques, they were, in fact, there, but hidden. I would always ask my teacher, ‘when do we learn mantis? Where are the mantis techniques?’, he would always tell me that the mantis is there, it’s just that it is hidden, you need only apply the techniques as they are performed under the principles of the mantis systems, and not as they are seen in the form. In many traditional systems, the techniques are aesthetically hidden to protect the secrets of the style, and so that the non practitioner cannot identify the actual usage of a technique by just casual observation, and potentially, use it against them. I would always come away from my questioning filled with frustration, wondering when we were going to do the flashy mantis moves that I had seen in countless kung-fu movies, and demonstrations over the years. In time, I learned to stop asking questions (as it is rude for a student to ask questions that venture outside the realm of technical application, and as my first teacher had a very bad temper and would sometimes punish me with painful conditioning exercises, beatings, and sometimes not speak to me for weeks at a time after wards) and just practice what I was taught, waiting patiently for the mantis renaissance to bloom. I was, after years of training, finally able to apply several mantis techniques with great skill and accuracy during combat, and in essence, learned more mantis than I had thought I had, but I was still not satisfied, and in my mind, felt as if I was anything but, a mantis fighter.
Years later, I encountered the Seven Star Praying Mantis system, a cousin of my original style, and was finally exposed to the elusive, ‘mantis’, as I had imagined it. While the mantis ‘hooks’ were slightly different than what I had encountered (My original style’s mantis hook being formed with looser fingers, and more extended index and middle fingers, while the seven star hooks are formed with only the index being slightly exposed with the thumb pressing into the middle of the index, in comparison) the mantis was, aesthetically, ‘there’, in an obvious sense of things. When someone performs a seven star form, a casual observer can immediately identify that the practitioner is, indeed, performing, ‘mantis’. The seven star style is much more, ‘systemized’, than a lot of other northern mantis systems, in that they have an essential set of training drills, standardized fundamental forms, partner drills, and less, ‘hidden’, performance aspects. I took to it quickly, and thoroughly enjoyed the obviousness of the, ‘mantis’, performance elements. Every attack was matched with a stance, one step, one hit, making it a very direct, masterfully coordinated, ‘one hit finish’, combat system. The footwork is very linear, most sets being performed in a straight line, back and forth several times, as opposed to some styles that have footwork that travels in many different directions. It should be noted, that a true northern mantis fighter, regardless of the style, would rarely attack a foe head on, preferring to attack at 45 degree angles, from the side, or while retreating, or advancing, unpredictably. My personal combat experience consists of, primarily, fights in bars, the street, alleyways, and executive protection settings, usually fighting single, hyper aggressive opponents, or groups of attackers, with very little space. While I enjoyed the seven star system in many different ways, I knew that straight line footwork, ‘one hit finish’, techniques, would not be realistic, or serve me well in a real life street encounter (I should note that this is only how the forms are demonstrated and not how the actual application is used. It would be ridiculous to say that seven star fighters only attack in ‘one’s’ and never in combination.) Real life street encounters required me to be able to launch a barrage of attacks at very high speed, and be able to change directions instantaneously. While I found the seven star system invaluable, and regard it as one of the greatest systems in use today, at the time, I was unable to, ‘see’, the true combat elements that I sought after.
I studied the seven star system for a year or two, but didn’t get into the higher levels of the style. Again, I was frustrated with my search for the elusive mantis I had been hunting for so many years, and practiced what I could. While I practiced several other styles, primarily softer systems like tai chi, ba gua, qi gong, even a little hsing yi, I still longed for the mysterious predatory insect combat methods, and kept it on the back burner while I focused on other disciplines. Finally, after several different styles and teachers, I decided to give my hunt one last go, and find another mantis teacher. At this time, I had relocated to San Francisco, from China, and sought out the Tai Chi Plum Flower Praying Mantis style, taught by Master Chin at Fort Mason. I dug up his email address on several different websites, verified it was correct, sent him an email, and waited… He responded fairly quickly, letting me know that he was, indeed, the mantis man, and that he also taught the Northern Shaolin system (if I was interested). I replied and let him know, that I had greater desires than just regular practice, and that I wished to become an instructor of his particular system of mantis combat. He let me know that it was possible, and would take me a few years to learn the required curriculum that was required to be bestowed with the honor of the title of, ‘teacher’. I was ecstatic, to say the least, and moved the mantis pot to the front burner once again. I rallied two of my kung-fu brothers, who I had taught some white eyebrow kung-fu, to come with me, and went down to Fort Mason for our first encounter with master Chin.
The class was made up of older Chinese men, in their 50’s and 60’s, and two younger Chinese youths in their teens. Everyone was friendly, and seemed to have their own agendas as far as practice went, it being more of a ‘club’ than a formal ‘class’ setting. Master Chin was humble, and refused to let us call him, ‘Master’, or, ‘Sifu’, even though he is one of the highest level practitioners of anyone alive today (in my opinion at least), insisting that we call him, ‘Arthur’, and not otherwise. We respectfully complied, even though my traditional kung-fu values were screaming at me to call him, ‘Sifu’, they were overridden by his request to be, ‘informal’. The first thing he asked me was if I had any previous experience, and in particular, mantis experience. I said yes, but very little, and only on a very basic, fundamental sense, if even that. I knew what he was going to ask next, and in lieu of it, I had prepared by brushing up on the mantis that I had learned previously, fine tuning the most common and universal mantis set (there being 3 original core mantis forms that all northern systems have), known as, ‘beng bu’, or, ‘crushed step boxing’ (‘beng bu’ being the first of the three, followed by, ‘eight elbows’, and, ‘chaotic intercepting boxing’). I took a deep breath, relaxed, and then vigorously launched into the seven star mantis version of beng bu, making sure to stomp my feet twice as hard as usual, when required, add as much extra, ‘snap’, and, ‘whip’, to my techniques, and projecting true martial intent that I seldom revealed outside of a real life combat encounter, or during a performance such as this one. Master Chin smiled and nodded, saying, ‘Oh! So you already know kung-fu! I don’t have to teach you the basics, you have them already…’ I was honored, and taken aback, at the same time. In my mind, I will never be able to escape the idea of being an eternal student, and starting each and every day as an absolute beginner (nor would I want to!).
I should note, that in the traditional kung-fu world, you never ever ask your teacher, your kung-fu uncles or aunts, or even your older kung-fu brothers, or sisters, to perform anything. It is rude, crass, and ultimately, very disrespectful. You would never stand up on the middle of a college lecture and demand the professor to demonstrate something off the cuff. You would be expelled from the class, and justly so. The same applies to the traditional kung-fu world, but to an even more extreme degree. Master Chin, in his casual mentality, will perform any set you ask him to, and happily so. This was something I had never encountered before in my entire martial career, and I was pleasantly surprised. Master Chin powerfully executed his version of the seven star beng bu form (as there are several branches within the seven star family) and then went right into the Tai Chi Plum Flower Praying Mantis version of beng bu, something I had never seen before. Immediately, I noticed that the system utilized rapid fire combinations of techniques in a single stance, and heavily displayed the famous mantis ‘hook’ hand that identified it as a true mantis system. I also noticed that it had very dynamic stance work, and heavily favored knees, elbows and quick, deceptive leaps, known as, ‘monkey footwork’. The form did not adhere to the standard ‘straight line’ footwork patterns that almost all northern systems, mantis or not, usually conformed to, and in fact, attacked from all angles, and masterfully so. I immediately fell in love with the style, and became instantly infatuated with the ideas and concepts that it seemed to contain (even at a glance). This was the master I had been searching for after all this time, there was no questioning it. My brothers and I followed Master Chin’s lead and absorbed what he had to teach us. After some basic stance work, a monkey footwork exercise, and dynamic tension drills, Master Chin dealt us the first few motions of the beng bu form. We quietly practiced the motions he taught us, ingraining them into our subconscious until he came and asked us if we wanted to learn applications. We, of course, happily accepted his offer. While forms are an important aspect of any system, they are just the ‘skin’ of a style, the applications being the ‘meat and bones’.
Let me make another note, even though I have touched upon this before in previous essays, that most Chinese martial arts schools have strongly veered away from hardcore application, it being rare to find anyone who will put the essence of hardcore combat at the forefront, most schools leaning heavily towards the performance aspects of their systems. Master Chin’s expertise lies in locking, breaking, snapping and dislocating the various joints, bones and sockets of the human anatomy. While I had a crude, rudimentary understanding of locking and breaking the joints, I had never encountered someone who had such a vast and extensive knowledge of this particular discipline. He taught us a shoulder dislocating technique, its counter/reversal, and how to apply it with ruthless efficiency. We were aw struck, and completely enamored with master Chin’s genius understanding of the Chinese martial arts. We told him we would be back the next week, and every week to follow for the rest of his life.
Let’s flash forward to a year later, all of us still under his expert tutelage, and now, deep into the Tai Chi Mantis system he so generously handed us. By now, I had personally accumulated five hand forms, including the three essential, core mantis sets, as well as a rare sword and scabbard form, not to mention his elaborate freestyle method of locking and breaking the joints. Aside from our Monday night classes at Fort Mason, we had been blessed with weekly supplementary lessons taught in his backyard, an honor unto its self. My mantis had finally come to the forefront, superseded my previous martial education, and enveloped my entire martial practice. Master Chin invited me to exchange with himself, a few of his kung-fu brothers (my kung-fu uncles) and his mantis teacher/kung-fu brother, William Fong, an 8th generation mantis practitioner that had trained directly under the great grandmaster himself, Chiu Chuk Kai (Zhao Zhu Xi, in Mandarin), the founder of this particular style of praying mantis. While I was as nervous as I had even been, I was more than excited with the idea of meeting a living legend, and true, ‘hidden dragon’. Master Chin, while a long time top exponent of the Northern Shaolin system for nearly 45 years, under the instruction of the legendary, Wong Jack Man, had learned mantis from Master Fong while working alongside of him during his career as a pharmacist. Due to both of their previous experiences in different systems, they were more, ‘mutual exchange partners’, than, ‘master and student’, like Master Chin and I were. After a year of hearing about master Fong’s expertise and comprehensive understanding of the Tai Chi Mantis system, I was finally going to meet him.
Master Chin, one of his kung-fu brothers, one of my kung-fu brothers, and I, went down to Milbrae by car to another old school mantis practitioner’s house in the suburbs. Master Chin is a long time sword collector, and had an arsenal of various blades in his trunk, some of them dating back to 2,200 years (warring states period), and brought them out for his brothers, and associates, to examine. After an hour or so, Master Fong arrived. He was how I imagined, but more stylish and modern (as all of the photos I had seen of him were from the late 70’s), having a thin frame, like many hardcore mantis practitioners, and unusually strong grip, a sure sign of a locking expert. He was humble, polite, and immediately directed his attention to the priceless weapons my Sifu had brought. He was able to discern the time period of each blade instantly, knew exactly how each blade was fashioned, and exactly how it was used. On two occasions, he stepped away from the group and deftly carved the sword through the air with an unexpected level of skill I had seen only a few other times during my life (Master Chin being one of the other sword masters I was lucky enough to witness demonstrating such astounding skill). Finally, after a half an hour or so of sword discussion, my master came to me and suggested I ask Sifu Fong any questions I may have about the mantis system we all practiced. As nervous as I was, I swallowed my fear, and asked him the questions that stood out the most in my mind.
“Can you please explain the twelve principles of mantis, as dictated by the sonnet established by the founder of the Northern Mantis systems, Wang Lang?”
Master Fong first, and foremost, made it point to note that principles are just ideas, and if you got stuck trying to memorize and adhere to strict rules and concepts, regardless of the style, you would lose the essence of true pugilism. While the ideas and concepts are important, as far as a base combat system is concerned, you should let go of them, as in the end, they are not important as far as real life combat is concerned. A true mantis fighter should rely on one thing, that one thing being, ‘change’, and, ‘adaptability’. The one essential truth, as far as any system of combat is concerned, is, ultimately, that, ‘nothing is guaranteed’. If you rely on any one thing, especially a set of principles and ideas, during combat, you were indeed, hindering yourself in the long, and short, run of things. He explained that you should train in as many different spectrums of the system as you possibly could, as no one fight was ever the same. You must never rely on just one aspect (i.e: striking, throwing, locking etc.) of training, and diversify your combat training as much as possible. At the same time, he emphasized that in the end, you should chose something you like, and specialize in it (iron robe, iron palm, locking, striking, weapons, etc.). He told me that during his earlier years, he focused on doing as much damage as possible in the shortest amount of time. After he studied acupuncture/acupressure, his focus changed to that of locking and breaking, not wanting to do so much damage, but rather, lock, incapacitate and escape his opponents, instead of inflicting devastating, potentially lethal, damage. Learn from the principles, understand them, and then let them go. Do not let the ideas dictate the true reality of combat, which has no set of rules whatsoever, but rather, adapting and changing as needed.
I then asked him about the psychology of the mantis fighter, and what was required of the mind to truly execute the key elements of this devastating system. Master Fong made a point to mention that there tended to be a distinct difference between mantis fighters, in several different ways, in comparison to other kung-fu stylists. Mantis fighters, in general, tend to be physically weaker than a lot of other kung-fu exponents, and were not people who advertised the fact that they were hardcore practitioners of their system. This led him to another point about the actual insect its self. While the praying mantis is a devastating predator, unrivaled by any other insect, even those twice its size, it was indeed, a tiny bug that could be crushed by a child’s thumb. That being said, master Fong explained that the mantis excelled in fighting opponents with much greater strength, and relied on a sophisticated method of strange and complex fighting techniques that made it possible to overcome almost any opponent. He said that the grandmaster chose this insect above all other predator animal styles, understanding and utilizing its ferocious techniques with masterful and flawless precision. While the mantis is tiny, and ultimately, and insect, it is indeed, a predator. It relies on offense over defense, and will try to finish its opponent as quickly, and efficiently, as possible. A lot of modern day teachers expound upon their students that one should never attack first, and should always avoid combat, if possible. While this is true, it is not the ultimate reality of a predator. If one is being accosted, one should attack first, not allowing your attacker to have the upper hand, using the elements of surprise and deception, instead of defensive techniques and evasion. If you have incapacitated your attacker, what need is there to defend or evade? Strike first, strike quickly, and without mercy.
I then asked master Fong about his actual experiences training with the Grandmaster himself during the late 70’s in Hong Kong, and his own personal, pre-mantis kung-fu training.
Master Fong told me that his foundation style was Hung Gar, also known as the, ‘Tiger and Crane’, system. He learned this style from the legendary Wong Hoi (student of Lam Sai Wing), and from Wong Fei Hung’s wife, Mok Gwai Lan. He expressed that this system was superb as a foundational style, giving him what he needed to excel in his practice during his later years. After this system, he studied seven star praying mantis, giving him an introduction into the strange, yet highly potent, world of mantis combat. After studying the seven star style, he continued his mantis education with the great grandmaster himself, Chiu Chuk Kai, in Hong Kong, from the age 19, until he was 21.
I asked him what were grandmaster Chiu’s classes like, what did they practice, and what was the great grandmaster’s emphasis, as far as kung-fu was concerned?
Master Fong happily told us what the grandmaster’s classes were like. He said that there were a set of standard exercises that they had to perform before anything else happened, then grandmaster would have them practice a particular drill or technique with a partner for an hour, until finally, at the end of class, everyone would have to demonstrate a form or technique upon his request. He noted that grandmaster Chiu would ask them to perform many different things they had been taught, and if they had forgotten anything, they would not learn anything new until they had mastered what they already knew. This kept all of the students sharp, prepared, and on their toes. There was no room to forget or brush over anything casually, you had to know what you knew, and know it well. As far as the grandmaster’s personal skill level was concerned, Master Fong told me that his method of motion was very deceptive, appearing to kick you from one direction, and then, somehow, landing the kick from an entirely different angle altogether. Master Fong said that the grandmaster’s understanding of centrifugal force was astounding, and that he was able to throw anyone in any direction he desired at any velocity. The grandmaster’s original training was in a northern long fist system (Tai Zu Men, in Mandarin) that had no forms to speak of, only hardcore combat techniques and real life applications. As well as this system, he was also a master of archery (as well as mounted archery), a skilled equestrian, and versatile in many other combat, and non-combat, disciplines.
Master Fong made an important note about Grandmaster Chiu’s mantis system, in that it is totally unlike a lot of other mantis disciplines. The grandmaster took influences from several other styles, and integrated them into the foundational aspects of the style. He added a wooden dummy form (a wooden post with three wooden arms, and a wooden leg), several internal forms, and borrowed heavily from his foundation system, Tai Zu Men (great emperor/ancestor style). While the style is called, ‘Tai Chi Praying Mantis’, is, in fact, not a system of tai chi, in this instance, ‘tai chi’, meaning, ‘grand ultimate’. Amongst non-tai chi praying mantis systems, is simply referred to as, ‘Plum Flower Praying Mantis’. ‘Tai Chi’ Plum Flower Praying Mantis, is usually a term used amongst other mantis fighters, and often called, ‘Tai Mantis’, for brevity’s sake. While there are other variations of Plum Flower Praying Mantis, grandmaster Chiu’s is a hybrid of its original design due to the modifications, and adaptations, he implemented on his own accord. While it remains, ultimately, a true, ‘mantis’, system, it is not a, ‘traditional’, plum flower mantis system, technically speaking.
Master Fong then further continued his explanation of combat, mantis principles, and kung-fu as a whole, in greater detail. He made an interesting note about fighting at night, suggesting that you should try and make sure there is a light source behind you, as their shadow will appear before they are in range, and that having a light behind you can distort an attacker’s vision and drastically alter their depth perception (due to the fact that you will be heavily shadowed when viewed from the front). While many of my fights had been at night, I had never thought to try and make this a factor, but most certainly would, the next time I did have to engage in combat. Along the same lines of strategy, he said to go for your assailant’s eyes, disruption their vision and making it easier to attack, defend, or evade, if necessary. He noted that in the old days, many kung-fu practitioners were required to learn Chinese medicine in order to fully understand how the human body worked, how it could be taken apart, and if you were injured, how to fix it. With this knowledge, one was able to quickly destroy, and dismantle, someone with a minimum amount of force and effort, while dealing out the maximum amount of damage. One’s training was base, and limited, if the academic elements were not embraced. The practice of form, and aesthetic elements, was last on the scale of importance, and relevancy, as far as the greater picture was concerned, while today, it is almost exactly the opposite.
Master Fong made an interesting note on kung-fu in general, saying that within every system there is soft, and hard, and that no system is purely hard or soft on its own. Many people mistake, ‘stiff’, for hard, and, ‘weak’, for soft. This is a misconception, as it is merely two different kinds of energy, being neither a state of total relaxation, or total stiffness. One of the profound lessons he passed on to us, was this: ‘Making friends is a survival skill. If you want to destroy your enemies, make friends with them’.
Finally, Master Fong demonstrated some of his famed locking and seizing techniques on me. I was amazed at how accurate, powerful, and efficient his technique was. The next day my muscles were still sore where he had applied his techniques. When I first met him, and shook his hand, I immediately knew that if he decided to grab me, there would be no escape. He was able to explain everything I asked, as far as application, philosophy, and culture went, and even elaborated beyond the spectrum of what I could have even imagined. While I was an experienced street (and bare knuckle) fighter, there was no doubt in my mind that Master Fong would totally destroy me in a real life confrontation. While the praying mantis is tiny and weak compared to the tiger, its power is hidden, devastating, and elusive. Just as Master Fong remains a quiet, humble, soft spoken man, with a thin frame, he conceals his true ferocity and lethality, not revealing it until it is absolutely necessary. Just to have met him, was an honor unto its self, but to be able to question him freely, and actually exchange technique was beyond anything I could have ever dreamed of. Like my Sifu, Master Chin, William Fong is a true practicing master that epitomizes the essence of the saying, ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’, or, ‘One who does not show his or her power or skill, patiently keeping it hidden until the very last moment, when their true nature is revealed’.
Meeting the Dragons.
The next day, Master Chin, and I, made our way down to Campbell, about 45 minutes south of San Francisco, to meet with another well known master, Sifu Paul Eng (or, ‘Ng’, as it is sometimes spelled), a man who’s books about mantis I had been reading since I was 11, and another prominent master from New York. I had been to Master Eng’s school once before, having met him briefly, but it was well over two years ago, and I was sure he wouldn’t remember me. Master Eng is well known for his experience, and skill, in both seven star praying mantis, and tai chi praying mantis, being one of the foremost exponents of the style in the United States today. Master Ng’s school was a storage space that had been cleverly converted into a kung-fu school, complete with an office, a bathroom, and a barbeque grill. The school was a kung-fu teacher’s dream: large space, high ceilings (anyone who has tried to perform any weapon other than a dagger form, can tell you this is a luxury), at least five of every weapon, some well placed calligraphy, and two mounted wooden dummies (most kung-fu schools are tiny, crowded, and low ceilinged training halls tucked in between a row of storefronts, or nestled in a strip mall). A group of Sifu Eng’s students were already practicing and working up a sweat in the parking lot when we arrived, all of them wearing the same Ta Chi Praying Mantis t-shirts that Master Chin and I wore when we practiced, something I hadn’t encountered in many years. In most traditional schools, there is a standard t-shirt, which aesthetically serves the same purpose as the karate gi (the garment worn by tae kwon do, hapkido, karate, judo, jujitsu, and ninjitsu practitioners) in non Chinese schools, that serves as a uniform, and identifies that practitioner as a student of that particular school. These shirts are not worn outside of class, except while training, and cannot be sold to non-members for any cost. It is symbol of respect, honor, and privilege to be able to wear an established school’s shirt. In fact, wearing another school’s shirt, or uniform, would be grounds for expulsion, and deservedly so.
Everyone was very happy to see my Sifu, warmly greeting both he, and I, with open arms, the classic, ‘ming’, kung-fu hand salute (the left palm pressed on top of the right fist held up at chest level), and endless smiles. I saw master Eng in the background patiently watching his students practice with his hands behind his back. The first thing about master Eng that I noticed was that he had aged considerably since he had published his books. I knew him as a youthful, black haired man in small black and white photos wearing a traditional, black Chinese frog button uniform, not as an older grey haired man wearing a fleece vest. But it was still him. It was the man who had originally sparked my interest in the mantis systems, with his landmark books on the subject, without ever knowing how profound of an influence he had had on me for so many years. There was a powerful, stoic air about him, complimented by humility, kindness and respect. It was hard to believe he was really standing in front of me. Master Chin introduced me to Master Eng with a smile. I felt as giddy as a child at Christmas upon meeting him, using all of the strength that I had to refrain from gushing my respects and how honored I was to meet him.
“Nice to meet you, I’ve read all of your books, since I was a kid. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” I said bowing my head, bending my knees, and saluting him in the traditional manner before finally shaking his hand.
He beamed a giant smile at me and ducked his head down, waving his hand at me, humbly dismissing my courtesy.
“No, no, no, no!” He exclaimed, laughing.
He was so humble that he could barely accept my respects, patting me on the back and shaking my hand with his claw like fingers. I wasn’t completely surprised to find that he was so reserved, for all of the mantis masters I had met in San Francisco were exactly the same: humble, modest, kind, and tremendously skilled. Master Eng was no exception. After meeting Sifu Eng, Master Chin introduced me to the remaining students, and began to teach one of them a tai chi sword form from the tai chi mantis system, known simply as, ‘Chiu’s sword’. My two kung-fu brothers, who had come along, began to exchange techniques with some of Master Eng’s students while I went and talked with a few of the other masters. One man I met, an elderly Wu style tai chi master from Hong Kong, had the same family name, ‘Yuan’, as I did. In Chinese culture, this is a fairly big deal, there being an expression, ‘100 years ago, we were brothers’. His Mandarin was as poor as mine, but we managed to communicate relatively well, considering. My Mandarin is limited, so our conversation didn’t go much further than where we lived, where we were from, and some basic kung-fu conversation. The rest of the evening I would find master Yuan silently smiling at me from a distance, nodding and smiling at me when he caught my attention. He offered to show me some of the Wu style when I had time, and I happily accepted his offer. The old school kung-fu generation was an invite only crowd, and it was an honor to be offered such a chance.
Master Fong arrived shortly after we did, and we immediately began to speak further on the subject of kung-fu. There happened to be a book in Chinese about the wooden dummy form contained within the tai chi mantis system that grandmaster had created himself after seeing Wing Chun practitioners practice with one. While the book was entirely devoid of English, Master Fong patiently explained endless details, facts, and history that I would have never been able to discover on my own. He seemed to know almost everyone in the book, and he too, was included in the end chapter, complete with a photo of himself with several of his students. I soaked up as much of it as I could before we put the book back and continued our discussion further. Finally, a visiting master, from New York, Master Chuy, who had studied with the grandmaster in Hong Kong, arrived. I had seen him on the internet performing applications, forms, and briefly discussing combat. He had a deep voice, was very quiet, and had the powerful martial presence that seemed to be the norm amongst these men. Again, my Sifu, Master Chin, persuaded me to ask Master Fong more questions about the tai chi mantis system. I went blank, but finally came up with a question that had been at the back of my mind for some time.
“Can you explain the application to the ‘ten successive strikes’ encountered at the beginning of the form, ‘Lan Jeet’ (the highest level hand set in the Northern Mantis systems), please?”
He said it was a question that could take a long time to answer, so instead, he had me demonstrate the first few motions of the form and give my version of what I thought the applications might be. I nervously performed the motions, all of the different master’s eyes upon me, as well as I could without vomiting.
“The first motion is a chin strike, right?” I asked.
“I see it as this.” Master Fong said motioning for me to strike at him.
I carefully launched a punch towards his face, making sure to keep my other hand floating in front of my torso. Master Fong deftly deflected my strike with the same technique I had done, but struck the soft tissue behind my elbow from beneath, instead of the chin, as I had imagined it. It worked perfectly, and the next few motions followed seamlessly.
“Ok, what about this motion?” I said demonstrating the 3rd strike.
He showed me that what I had envisioned as a grab and throat strike, was, by his interpretation, an arm lock that could be followed by a devastating elbow smash into the pectoral muscle, or solar plexus. I was awe struck. The diversity and efficiency of kung-fu had blown my mind for the thousandth time, once again. Master Fong then went on to discuss more about multiple opponents, real life application, and the mentality of being able to adapt to any situation at any time, martial, or otherwise. He then went on to demonstrate some brutally effective arm, wrist, hand, and throat locks, followed by take downs and finishing strikes. I was used to being the class demo dummy, and I always leapt at the opportunity to have a technique demonstrated on me. That’s how you really learned, by having it done to you, not by watching. At one point he struck my trachea, forcing my eyes to water, making my nose run, and almost sending me into a fit of coughing. I treasured these experiences, as they solidified my understanding the true martial applications of the system, regardless of how painful or unpleasant it may be.
At one point, Master Fong began to talk with Master Yuan about his experience with the Hung Gar system, and eventually, decided to perform some its techniques. While I had seen Hung Gar many times before, performed by many different practitioners, some of them good, some of them bad, I was eager to see Master Fong’s interpretation of the system, as he had studied under two different, very important, masters. He took his glasses off, went to an open space, and began to demonstrate the, ‘iron wire’, technique that is synonymous with the style of Hung Gar. While I had felt Master Fong’s applications, power, and skill on my own, I had never seen him actually perform anything. The iron wire technique is a dynamic tension exercise that develops dense muscle tissue, iron like bones, and tendons as strong as a piano string (the term, ‘wire’, meaning, ‘tendon’, in this instance). It was amazing to see this calm, passive gentleman, transform in a powerful, almost frightening performer, who executed the techniques with seemingly superhuman precision, and startling power, the likes of which I had never seen before. We all clapped and cheered after his demonstration. I made it a point to say ‘Your kung-fu is so good!’ in Mandarin, saluting him, and shaking his hand. He responded by saying, ‘No, don’t say that, no’ before bowing his head and turning away. As epic and profound as these masters were, and as much respect as they could command if they so desired, I was still amazed at how unbelievably humble they remained at all times.
After more applications and discussions, we sat down and ate, as it was not only a martial exchange, but a pot-luck barbeque as well. I had a beer instead of eating, as I had finished an 8 hour work day, and ultimately, just wanted to relax at this point. Like a good student, I sat across from my teacher and the other masters while they talked primarily in Cantonese, and tried to pick up as much as I could (having learned very minimal Cantonese 8 or more years ago). Master Fong made it a point to include me in the conversation, and they asked me about some of my real life combat experiences. I happily divulged the details of some of my more recent encounters with great detail while they listened and asked me a few technical questions. One question, brought up by Master Chuy, our guest from New York, was, ‘Have you ever fought a real martial artist on the street?’ It was a perfect question, and one that I could easily answer.
“No, no I haven’t, not ever, most people I fight are highly unskilled, angry, drunk, or in groups. I have never encountered another martial artist on the street, and I doubt (and hope!) I never will.”
They all laughed and agreed. There was no doubt in any of our minds that this was indeed, a nearly absolute truth when it came to the real thing. Unless you are a bouncer, or a criminal, as a martial artist, you pride yourself on not fighting at all. Just like Master Fong said, ‘Destroy your enemies by making friends with them.’ Master Eng, who had remained almost totally silent the entire evening (except for occasionally speaking in Cantonese with the other masters), piped in, ‘Unless you open a school, then people will CHALLENGE YOU!’ raising a finger in the air before bursting into laughter.
“Have you ever been challenged before Sifu?” I respectfully asked Master Eng.
Master Eng just smiled and shook his head, waving his hand at me again like he did when I expressed my respects to him earlier.
“William has!” Master Chin chimed in with a smile.
“Really? Here?” I asked.
“No, not here, in Hong Kong, but… it’s a little bit, ‘complicated’.” He replied.
I respectfully, left it at that. If he wanted to tell me, he would, on his own accord. To ask further would have been very disrespectful.
“It is not how much you learn, or how long, but more about ‘feeling’.” Master Eng said after being almost completely silent the entire evening.
He then performed a common hand technique known as, ‘butterfly palms’ (a technique where you pull an attacker to the side before striking them with both palms), still remaining in his seat.
“With ‘wu dip juerng’ (butterfly palms, in Cantonese), many people do it too stiff, or too soft! They have to find the ‘feeling’! The feeling is the most important, but it can only be learned after many years of practice.” Master Eng said performing the technique in a slow, deliberate manner, and then very quickly, from his seat.
I couldn’t have agreed more.
After we all finished eating, we said our sincere goodbyes, gave our appropriate respects to the masters and students alike, and then went our separate ways. This was my first encounter with these living legends, and I will cherish my time with the ‘Dragons of Mantis’ forever. I can only hope that one day, I too, may be lucky enough to posses even an ounce of their skill, humility, and kindness.
