Chung-Hua Institute

The modern era has seen few masters who've proven themselves in combat publicly the way Ch'ang Tung-Sheng did. The late grandmaster of Paoting style Shuai-Chiao was known to have traveled throughout China, took on all comers from all styles, and thoroughly trounced each one of them with his no-nonsense style of fighting in no-rules competition. He commanded such respect and fear from the martial arts community that he became one of the youngest masters to ever be appointed an instructor at the Nanking Central Martial Arts Academy. Those who loved him and those who didn't all agreed on one thing - Ch'ang retired undefeated and proved himself and his art like no other in modern Chinese history.

When the Chinese mainland was taken over by the Chinese Communist Party, Ch'ang made the difficult decision to leave his homeland and re-settle in Taiwan with the Nationalist Party. It was thus that the art of Paoting Shuai-Chiao made its way to Taiwan. In Taiwan, Ch'ang would teach some of his most gifted pupils, among whom was a young man named David C.K. Lin.

David Lin began as just one of the many students who took part in Shuai-Chiao clubs in Taipei's schools. But when he publicly defeated a Judo instructor while still a high-school age white belt, he gained the attention of the formidable Ch'ang. Ch'ang would take Lin as his private student, teaching him in the mornings at a park and overseeing his development at every step of the way. Lin, who is now based in Atlanta, took time with me while we were traveling in Taiwan to recall some of his memories of training with the undisputed "King of Shuai-Chiao."

"Master Ch'ang was very traditional, not at all like most of the martial art teachers you see today," relates Lin, now senior-most instructor of the Combat Shuai-Chiao system. "I would meet Master Ch'ang at the park every morning at 6 a.m., and while he was working on his own techniques, I'd start with practicing the fixed stances and then continue by doing shadow practice exercises, which are like empty hand forms. Whenever I made a mistake, he'd make a terse correction and continue his own practice. He wasn't one of those teachers who would baby-sit his students."

Training with Ch'ang pushed David Lin to develop one of the sharpest minds in Shuai-Chiao. Since the techniques were not carefully dissected and fed to him piece-meal, Lin would often listen to his master's corrections and go home thinking about them all day long. By the time the afternoon came around, he would have the chance to put his thoughts into practice in what would be an overwhelming arena for anyone else.

Ch'ang Tung-Sheng made David Lin the assistant chief instructor of the Shuai-Chiao class at the Taiwan Central Police University when he was only 16, and he decided the daily curriculum during those morning private lessons. Lin remembers, "Master Ch'ang would look over the techniques I already knew, and he'd make corrections here and there. Then he'd call me over and show me a new technique, usually by showing me the shadow practice form first. I'd practice the basic form in order to develop the body coordination for the movement, and then he'd show me the application as a throw or combination." Ch'ang never hesitated to throw his young charge on the hard ground of the park, making sure his breakfalling technique was impeccable for real-world combat. That new technique would be the one Lin was forced to teach that afternoon at the police university, so by the time the afternoon came, he had to have digested the fine points of the technique well enough to teach it to hundreds of police and apply it successfully in sparring.

"Those days were rough," says Lin. "Master Ch'ang would say, 'This is the technique you're going to teach today. Here's how you do it, now go make it work.' Then he'd leave me to practice, watch my form, make corrections, and leave me to ponder it until the afternoon, when I'd have to teach class for him. Usually, he'd watch me spar with the police students and the others, looking for mistakes in my timing, placement, or technique. And then I'd hear about it in the next morning. He'd yell at me, saying, 'Why didn't you use this throw or that throw when he gave you such a good opening?' He might then have me recreate the position that I was in the previous day, and then he'd show me what throw to use by doing it on me. I learned a lot training with him one-on-one and being forced to apply the techniques on so many different people like that in the course of a day."

Training with such fierce intensity gave Lin a distinct view of Ch'ang Tung-Sheng's grappling skills, as well as the striking skills he used in conjunction with his powerful throws. "Master Ch'ang was very realistic in terms of combat," recalls Lin. "He used striking techniques very well, and he was fully capable of knocking you flat on your back in a combat situation. Most people think only of wrestling or throwing when they talk about Chinese Shuai-Chiao, but that's just the sportive aspect. The full art is a combative art. After all, Genghis Khan and the Mongols didn't conquer the kind of territory they did with an art that's just for play. Many times when I was practicing with Master Ch'ang, he'd be working on Tan Tui, T'ai-Chi or Hsing-Yi striking techniques. He was very adept as a striker, although he knew very well that his strength lied in the grappling and throws he was known for. He made sure I understood and practiced that. When we demonstrated for people, he did a lot of very high and powerful throws, but when he took challenges, he used both strikes and throws. He wasn't bound to using only one thing, as he was capable of much more than just wrestling. He also taught me how to attack vital points for self-defense, and he warned me about dirty fighting techniques that other people might use to attack me. Master Ch'ang didn't want me to leave any openings for such attacks to be used."

Occasionally, Lin's training with the Grandmaster took on an added twist. "A few times, Master Ch'ang would tell me and another classmate to go an visit a local martial arts school that he might hear about. That visit meant that we were supposed to be there to challenge the head instructor," explains Lin. "In those days, it's not like you had the option of saying 'no' to your teacher. So we would go to whatever school he chose and spar with the students. When there weren't any students left to play with, one of us did the same with the master. Through those challenges, Master Ch'ang gave me the opportunity to see a lot of different martial arts styles and see what kind of attacks they'd use, as well as what kind of weaknesses they'd present. It's not a good idea to try that kind of thing in today's society, but in those days, it gave me a very firm concept of what works and how to apply it in a free-fighting situation. There are tournaments for that purpose today." It was such training and fighting which made Ch'ang Tung-Sheng and his students legends of Kung-Fu.