Friday evening, seven o'clock.

  The warehouse was different at dusk. Light slanted through the high windows, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Dust drifted in the beams. The space felt larger somehow, emptier, like a stage waiting for a performance.

  Henry stood by one of the pallets, fiddling with his camcorder. "Alright," he said, checking the viewfinder. "Six techniques. Let's see what works."

  Daniel pulled out his notebook and reviewed their list one more time. Then he closed his eyes and shifted into the Basic Sensing Exercise. Breathe in. Breathe out. The qi came up effortlessly now, but turbulent. Pooling and dispersing through his meridians like a coursing river.

  He settled into Standing Meditation. Knees aligned over feet. Elbows aligned over knees. Shoulders over hips. The Three Harmonies.

  Thirty seconds. That's all it took now. The chaos organized itself, wild energy settling down, then flowing evenly through his body, neither stagnant nor scattered.

  When he opened his eyes, the qi hummed steadily through his structure. Controlled. Ready.

  "Okay," he said. "Tiger Claw first."

  He spent a few minutes reviewing the library diagrams in his head. Fingers curved, thumb tucked against the palm. The strike came from the shoulder, not just the arm. Like reaching out to grab something and hit it at the same time. A grasping strike.

  "Ready when you are," Henry said, camera steady.

  Daniel faced the concrete pillar they'd been using as a target. He formed his right hand into a claw shape, feeling the tension in his forearm as his fingers curled. Drew his arm back. Focused on channeling qi into the strike the way he'd channeled it into his breath that night against the wall.

  Then struck forward, aiming for the pillar.

  His hand connected with concrete. The impact jolted through his wrist, up his arm, into his shoulder. Not painful exactly. He'd pulled the strike at the last second. But definitely solid contact. His fingers scraped against the rough surface.

  He stepped back, flexing his hand. Something felt off. The qi had dispersed again, disrupted by the impact.

  "Well?" Henry asked, zooming in. "Feel anything?"

  Daniel frowned at his hand. "It worked. Kind of. The hand shape feels right, the motion feels right. But..."

  "But?"

  "It feels incomplete." He tried again, same motion. Claw shape, strike forward, pull back. Same result. Mechanically sound, but hollow. "In Drunken Warrior, when he uses Tiger Claw, it looks ferocious. Like he's actually tearing through things. This just feels like hitting something with my hand in a weird shape."

  "Maybe you need more power behind it?"

  Daniel tried a third time, committing more force. His fingers scraped concrete hard enough to sting. He winced and shook out his hand.

  "Okay, that was dumb," he muttered.

  Henry made a note in his own copy of the notebook. "Tiger Claw: partial success. Form appears correct, power insufficient."

  The next hour was an exercise in mounting frustration.

  Pressure points came first. Daniel had copied diagrams from three different library books. Acupuncture charts showing dozens of points along the arms, legs, and torso. Each point had a name, a supposed function, connections to internal organs and energy channels. In the movies masters could paralyze opponents with a single touch, making them lose feeling in their limbs.

  They tried everything.

  Daniel pressed the point between Henry's thumb and index finger. Hegu. Supposedly connected to pain relief and the face. Nothing happened. Then the inside of Henry's wrist. Neiguan. For nausea and heart regulation. Still nothing. Then a point on Henry's shoulder. Jianjing. Which the book claimed could cause temporary paralysis if struck correctly.

  Henry just looked at him, unimpressed.

  "You feeling anything?" Daniel asked, pressing harder.

  "Yeah. Your finger poking me."

  "No numbness? Tingling? Sudden urge to collapse dramatically?"

  "I'm seeing visions," Henry said, keeping his face completely serious. "I see... your future. You're going to hit me with your finger again. And it's still not going to work."

  Daniel snorted. "Shut up." He slapped Henry on the arm, which at least got a reaction.

  He tried a few more points for good measure, consulting the diagrams and pressing with increasing force. Each time, he felt only the pressure of his finger against muscle and bone. No mystical energy disruption. No sudden weakness. No paralysis. Just two teenagers poking each other in a warehouse.

  "Well, that's a complete dud," Henry said finally, making an X in the notebook. "Pressure Point Strikes: failed. Zero observable effect."

  "Maybe it only works on someone who can channel qi?" Daniel suggested without much hope. "The books talk about disrupting the flow. If there's no flow to disrupt..."

  "Worth a shot. Try hitting me while I'm not doing anything, then try while I'm channeling."

  They switched. Daniel stood still and let Henry jab at various points on his arms and torso. He tried it relaxed, then tried it while maintaining his qi circulation. Same result both ways. Just the sensation of being poked.

  "Okay, definitely a dud," Daniel confirmed. "Or we're missing something fundamental about how it works."

  Henry wrote it down. "Pressure Point Strikes: failed. Possible explanations. Technique incorrect, theory incorrect, or missing crucial knowledge."

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Vajra Subduing Palm was next. The overhead strike that supposedly could shatter stone slabs. They'd seen it in a dozen kung fu movies. The dramatic moment where the Shaolin monk raised both hands overhead and brought them down together, cracking marble like it was made of sugar.

  With this strike, I subdue demons and uphold righteousness.

  Daniel positioned himself in front of the pillar. Raised both hands overhead, fingers extended, palms facing down. Brought them down together in one sharp motion.

  His palms smacked against concrete. Pain flared across both hands.

  "Ow. Fuck."

  "That looked like it hurt," Henry observed.

  "It did." Daniel shook out his hands, which were now red and stinging. "That's literally just hitting something hard with both hands. There's no mystical force. Just physics and pain."

  He tried again, this time attempting to channel qi into his palms like he did for Standing Practice. Focused on the energy in his lower body, tried to push it up through his torso and into his arms.

  Same result. Smacking concrete hurts, turns out. Mystical palm force remained conspicuously absent.

  "Vajra Subduing Palm: failed," Henry wrote. "Subject experienced only regular human pain from hitting a concrete pillar like an idiot."

  "Don't write that."

  "Already did."

  Push Hands was next. Tui Shou, the art of redirecting force. They'd read about this one extensively, found several books with detailed descriptions.

  The principle seemed sound: sense your opponent's energy, yield to their force, redirect it back at them. In theory, a master of Push Hands could neutralize any attack without using strength, turning the opponent's power against them.

  They faced each other in the center of the warehouse floor. The concrete was cold through Daniel's shoes.

  "Start slow," Daniel said. "Just push at my chest. Don't try to knock me over, just steady pressure."

  Henry pushed at Daniel's chest with both hands. Daniel tried to redirect, shifting his weight, turning his torso, attempting to guide Henry's force aside rather than resist it directly. He focused on feeling where the pressure was coming from, yielding to it, letting it slide past.

  Sometimes it worked. Henry's push slid off to the side, his momentum carrying him slightly past Daniel, who could have followed up with a counter-push. Those moments felt right. Effortless, almost automatic.

  Other times it failed completely. Henry's force went straight through Daniel's attempted redirect, and Daniel stumbled back a step, arms flailing.

  They switched roles. Daniel pushed, Henry redirected. Same inconsistent results. Sometimes the redirect flowed naturally, almost accidentally. Sometimes it failed completely and Daniel just shoved Henry backward.

  "Is it working or not?" Henry asked after ten minutes, both of them slightly winded.

  "I have no idea," said Daniel, frustrated. "Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It feels random. I can't tell if I'm actually sensing anything or just getting lucky"

  "Like dumb luck rather than skill?" said Henry.

  "Exactly."

  Henry made another note. "Tui Shou: inconsistent results. Requires more study or we're doing it completely wrong."

  Four techniques down. Three failures and one question mark. But Ghost Step, at least the basic version, actually worked.

  The movement drill was purely mechanical. No qi channeling required, just proper footwork. Daniel practiced the evasive stepping pattern from the library diagrams. Quick lateral shifts, changing direction unpredictably, maintaining structure while moving.

  Step left, weight right, pivot, step back at an angle. The Three Harmonies held through each movement.

  "This one works," he said after running through the pattern several times.

  "Maybe, because it's just footwork," Henry observed. "No internal energy required. Just proper form and practice."

  "Right." Daniel stopped, catching his breath. "It's good footwork. Better than what I'd do naturally. But it's not Ghost Step. There's no confusion effect. No speed enhancement. I'm just moving slightly more efficiently."

  He tried channeling qi while moving to use it to enhance his speed or create that disorienting effect the movies showed.

  Nothing changed. He moved at exactly the same speed. Reasonably quick, athletic even, but nothing supernatural. Just a teenager doing a fancy dance in a warehouse.

  "Same problem as the others," Daniel said. "The form works. But the internal method. Whatever makes it Ghost Step instead of just 'good footwork'. That's missing."

  Henry wrote it down. "Ghost Step: mechanically functional. Qi enhancement absent."

  The sun had fully set while they worked. The warehouse was darker now, shadows pooling in corners, the afternoon light replaced by deep blue dusk. Henry switched on a work light they'd found in the corner. Harsh white illumination cutting through the gloom, making their shadows sharp and strange on the concrete floor.

  "One more," Henry said. "Ladder Cloud Step."

  Daniel groaned. "The flying technique. Henry, this is going to fail. We both know it."

  "We have to try it's on the list. Scientific method. We test everything."

  Daniel couldn't argue with that logic, though he wanted to. He walked to the center of the open floor space.

  He closed his eyes.

  Focused on the qi he could feel in his lower body. That sense of groundedness, of connection to the earth that Standing Meditation had taught him. Tried to redirect it. Not sinking into the ground, but... rising? Becoming lighter? Creating those invisible platforms Henry had mentioned?

  He held that intention. Felt for any change in his body's weight, any sense of buoyancy or lightness, any indication that qi could somehow let him step on air. Then jumped.

  His feet left the ground. Rose about two feet into the air. Exactly as high as a person could jump normally. Gravity pulled him back down. His feet hit concrete with a completely ordinary thud.

  Henry was trying very hard not to laugh.

  "Maybe you need a running start?" he suggested.

  "I'm channeling qi," Daniel said, frustration bleeding into his voice. "I can feel it in my stance, in my strikes when they sort of work. Why isn't it doing anything?"

  He tried again. Focused harder, really tried to push qi into his legs, to make himself lighter, to create some kind of platform or step in the air. Jumped. Same height. Same normal jump. No invisible stairs. No cloud ladder. Just regular human jumping.

  "Maybe qinggong really is just movie stuff," Henry offered.

  "Or maybe..." Daniel sat down on a concrete block, suddenly exhausted. Not physically tired, the testing hadn't been that strenuous. But mentally drained. Frustrated.

  "Maybe we're doing everything wrong." He looked at his notebook. Pages full of techniques, descriptions, diagrams copied from library books. Forms and movements and historical references. Hand positions and footwork patterns.

  The external shell of martial arts, preserved in text and film.

  "We have the stances, the moves," he said slowly, thinking it through. "We know what they're called. We've seen them in movies. We read about them in books. Hell, we even found diagrams showing exactly how to position our hands and feet. But we don't actually know how to do them. Not really."

  Henry sat down next to him. "What do you mean?"

  "Remember when I first learned the Basic Sensing Exercise? RisingPhoenix explained the internal feeling, the breathing pattern. The experience of it. How it should feel in your body."

  Daniel gestured at his notebook.

  "These library books just show the physical forms. Drawings of hand positions and footwork. Descriptions of what techniques look like. No one wrote down the internal methods. How to channel qi through each specific technique."

  "Because it's too hard to explain?" Henry guessed.

  "Partly. But also..." Daniel gestured at their notebook. "I think most martial arts masters probably just... didn't bother. Why document something when you can show someone directly?"

  "So, when the traditional schools closed down or became commercialized..."

  "The knowledge just went with them. What survived are just pieces of it. The forms, the names, the movements. But not the real methods for using qi."

  They looked at each other in the harsh work light and an understanding started to settle in between them.

  "We're trying to reverse-engineer something that was meant to be taught face-to-face," they both said at the same time.

  "So, now what do we do?" asked Henry, scratching his head. He leaned back into the floor.

  Daniel didn't have an immediate answer. He stood, walked back to the concrete pillar they'd been using for testing. Ran his fingers over the spots where his Tiger Claw strikes had landed. Barely visible marks, nothing like the dramatic gouges he'd imagined.

  The technique had felt close. Not completely wrong. Just... incomplete. Like he was missing one crucial piece that would make everything click into place.

  "We need help," he said finally.

  Daniel thought about the usenet group. The place where he'd first learned about channeling qi. He hadn't checked it in weeks. Too busy with boxing training and experimentation.

  But if there was anywhere to find answers...it would be there.