Whenever James Carter had free time, he would practice speaking English with Scott Miller to improve his spoken language skills. At school, James Carter was not a bad student; on the contrary, he always ranked highly in every exam, was considered a “top student” by teachers, and was the “model child” other parents talked about.

Over the past couple of days, their conversations not only helped James Carter improve his spoken English, but also taught him a lot about martial arts.

Originally, James Carter knew nothing about martial arts. The reason he came here to learn was because of a humiliating incident, a single breath, and a bet—to deal with someone.

“Oh, oh, oh.” Scott Miller, with his shaved head, nodded repeatedly. “Wearing a monk’s robe and shaving your head helps you get into the right mindset for training. When I practice karate, if I wear other clothes, I just can’t focus. But when I put on that white gi, the pants, and tie the belt, I find it easy to clear my mind.”

“Do you think digging is a form of kung fu?” James Carter didn’t get hung up on the clothing issue, but asked another question.

“Of course it’s kung fu.” Scott Miller’s bald head reflected the sunlight, covered in a greasy layer of sweat, looking quite comical. He spoke mysteriously: “Digging should be a unique training method in Chinese kung fu. In our combat training, there are two essential exercises: smashing tires with a big sledgehammer, and flipping tires. Do you know about these?”

“I do.” James Carter nodded. “I’ve seen those fighters’ training on TV and online—smashing tires with a sledgehammer, flipping tires. They say it works out a lot of different areas.”

“Yes.” As Scott Miller spoke, he adjusted his posture to dig and turn the soil. “Sledgehammering tires trains the stability of your core muscle groups and your body’s explosive twisting power. Flipping tires works your whole-body coordination and the strength of your waist and legs. Now, as we dig and turn the earth, we’re training both of those, plus a lot of areas you can’t train otherwise. Tires are unchanging, but soil is unpredictable. No one knows if there are hard rocks under the dirt, so when we swing the hoe, we can’t just use brute force—we have to first probe the firmness of the soil, then make an accurate judgment. The earth is like your opponent; you never know what move he’ll make next. Before you turn over the soil, you don’t know what’s hidden beneath it.”

“Scott Miller, I can’t believe you know so much.” James Carter was deeply shocked. He hadn’t expected a foreigner to discover so much philosophy in digging the earth.

“Before I came to study, I did a detailed study of Chinese kung fu. I even learned Wing Chun.” Scott Miller lowered his voice as if sharing a secret, then waved his hands like a snake: “Snake Fist, Crane Fist!”

“Scott Miller, you’re kind of a dork.” James Carter almost burst out laughing, but when he did, his abs hurt, so he ended up grimacing.

All his muscles had been sore from the work these past two days.

“What does ‘dork’ mean?” Scott Miller asked, confused.

“‘Dork’ means really cool.” James Carter struggled to hold back his laughter.

“Come on.” Scott Miller gave James Carter the finger. “You think I’m stupid?”

“I still don’t know what kind of martial art this digging is. Coach William Clark never explains it clearly.” James Carter still wanted to figure it out. He had a spirit of getting to the bottom of things, both in his studies and in life, and was best at thinking and accepting new things.

“Amitabha, this is Zen, monkhood, qigong—you have to comprehend it yourself.” Scott Miller leaned on his hoe, put his palms together, and struck a pose.

James Carter couldn’t help but return the finger.

“Pair up in twos and give each other massages with liniment oil on sore spots to relax the muscles.”

Coach William Clark called a halt.

The students felt as if they’d been granted amnesty, quickly put down their hoes, and lay down on the plastic sheeting at the edge of the field, massaging each other’s sore backs and waists one-on-one.

Scott Miller and James Carter were a pair.

“James Carter, you look exhausted. I’ll massage you first. Once you’ve recovered, you can massage me.” Scott Miller motioned for James Carter to lie down.

James Carter was more than happy to oblige and lay down at once. At this moment, Scott Miller took out a bottle of “Minglun” brand liniment oil from his pocket, opened the cap, and a pungent smell wafted out. He poured some into his palm and began massaging James Carter’s waist, back, legs, shoulders, arms, abdomen, knee joints, soles of the feet—everywhere that ached from digging and turning the earth.

The massage technique was simply rubbing, kneading, pinching, and pressing.

On the first day of school, during the very first hour, Coach William Clark had taught them this. It was simple and easy to learn. After learning it, they went to dig, and had been digging ever since.

Once the liniment oil was applied, it started off burning hot, almost like chili water, but after a while, it became cool and comfortable. James Carter was so relaxed he nearly fell asleep.

This liniment oil wasn’t commercially available; it was distributed by the school after enrollment and was said to be a special secret formula.

The founder of Minglun Martial Arts School was named Henry Turner, an old martial artist skilled in medicine and knowledgeable in many traditional Chinese remedies. After founding the school, he also opened a traditional Chinese medicine factory, producing all kinds of injury medicines with excellent results.

Anyway, James Carter felt it was better than any liniment oil on the market.

If it weren’t for this liniment oil, as a city kid, he would have collapsed from exhaustion long ago.

After thirty minutes of massage, it was Scott Miller’s turn to lie down, and James Carter began to massage him.