To Dissect a Mantis - A Summarized Re-Written History of Mantis Boxing

The following takes all of the data collected this past winter from my timeline research (people, places, events, catastrophes, wars, rebellions, etc), as well as the mantis family tree, and assembles it into a condensed re-write of a more grounded history for mantis boxing. This is a brief overview notating some discoveries and answering questions…there were many. For the purposes here I removed mythical backstories and unsubstantiated people. Beginning instead with verified living representatives/associates.

View fullsize

Chinese soldiers 1899 1901 - Leipzig Illustrierte Zeitung 1900 [Public domain]

Here are a few of the questions I hoped to answer in my research on Praying Mantis Boxing.

1. The records are foggy prior to the 1800’s on the history of Mantis Boxing. Did mantis exist prior to this period?

2. If so, why did the 4th generation, fresh out of catastrophe on an epic scale in the late 1800’s, and the Boxer Uprisings that followed, suddenly start branding vanilla Mantis Boxing with other names such as - Plum Blossom, Supreme Ultimate, Seven Star? Other Chinese boxing arts of the region/time period did not see this same anomaly yet it was prevalent in Yantai. Did this ‘branding’ happen with the 5th generation of boxers in the first half of the 20th century?

3. Why are the forms inconsistent with each line of Mantis? If the forms existed as part of Liang Xuexiang’s art, why then did the next generation of boxers change them? If so, then why for the next century, were practitioners so meticulous about keeping these forms intact with little to no disruption?

4. Why was Li San Jian credited as a Praying Mantis Boxer when there is no evidence that he ever practiced the ‘style’?

5. Why did Li’s descendant, Wang Rong Sheng, who, by using dates and events, could not have learned Mantis from Li San Jian, but instead clearly learned mantis boxing from his friends - Jiang, Song, Hao, (‘students’ of Liang Xuexiang), end up as a major representative of the mantis style? Especially when he did not have the pedigree the other’s shared?

6. There is a recognizable crossover with meihuaquan in tanglangquan. What is the significance of the plum blossom symbolism and the prevalence with its use? Is there a link to meihuaquan? This style was spreading through marketplaces in the northern provinces leading up to the Boxer Uprisings, were the mantis boxers in Yantai connected with the uprisings? This creates more questions as the meihuaquan society was adamantly opposed to the violence and attacks on soldiers, missionaries, civilians, and property, such as churches and railways.

7. According to records, Jiang created and named a form in honor of the boxers connected with the rebellion - ‘Righteous and Harmonious Fist’. Was Jiang connected to the Boxer Uprising? Or was he simply angry at western encroachment and abuses like many in Shandong during this time?

8. Why is 6 Harmony Praying Mantis Boxing so different from the other lines?

Begin…

A man by the name of Li Bingxiao (李秉霄, 1713-1813), becomes known for his fighting skills in the late 1700’s and early 1800’s. He supposedly uses technique(s) that hook with two hands. As he gets older, he’s nicknamed - ‘2 hooks, Li’, or ‘2nd Elder of the Hook’. There is scant evidence of his backstory, but what has been carried down the lineage tree, is suspiciously close to the Confucius origin story. Confucius being highly revered in China for centuries, and originating in the same province - Shandong. Borrowing origin stories is a common phenomenon. Li allegedly teaches a student named Zhao Zhu.

Note: 6 Harmony Praying Mantis Boxing Segway

At this point there is an oral note in the lineage charts that Wei San (De Lin), the accredited founder of the 6 Harmony Praying Mantis Boxing line, met and sparred with Li Bingxiao.

“They could not best one another, but Wei San took some of Li Bingxiao’s methods.”

Thus begins the historical record of 6 Harmony Praying Mantis Boxing. Wei San’s background was in liuhequan (6 Harmony Boxing), aka xingyiquan. The oldest form in this line of mantis is known as ‘duan chui’ - referred to in English as ‘short strikes’, but more appropriately it means - ‘to hammer a weak point, or to beat a weak point or fault with one’s fists’. This form is known to be the creation of Wei San’s student Lin Shichun, who was a bodyguard for the Ding family for a large portion of his career.

Note: This form is quite possibly the oldest representation of xingyiquan in a form.]

This form, known as ‘short strikes’, is the only form in this line at the time and has zero mantis hooks within. Something the practitioners of this line seem well aware of as it varies significantly from their other forms. However, it does share much of its striking and power generation with xingyiquan. I will continue this further down as we get to the branching out of mantis.

Resume…

Zhao Zhu (1764-1847), becomes a teacher himself. He allegedly teaches his sons, and a student named Liang Xuexiang (1810-1895) as Liang grows up. Liang goes on to serve in the military, and becomes a famous biaoshi ​ (security-escort master) & boxer; one with a reputation and record that makes him a well known fighter in his province. His nickname is ‘iron fist’.

Li Bingxiao’s, and then Zhao’s techniques are passed on from Liang Xuexiang’s hands, including his own influences, to a new generation (4th) of boxers that includes his son. With the exception of his son, the teaching of many of his students takes place while Liang is in his late 60’s during a major famine preceded by 3 years of drought. Deathtoll - 9.5 to 13 million people died in the region during this 3 to 6 year time period.

At the time of joining Liang, all of these men were reported to be accomplished proficient fighters before meeting their ‘teacher’. Given Liang’s age and the surrounding events, this student/teacher relation appears to be more indicative of a mentor/client relationship. Liang possibly showing them some of his techniques, but their presence being more in line with protecting him and his family in his old age during extremely violent times.

His counterpart, Li Sanjian, did the same with his two students when visiting a friend in Yantai during this same period of unrest in Shandong province. It would make sense that an elderly, seasoned biaoshi (escort master) entering a foreign city in a time of catastrophe, would also be seeking out young, competent fighters to bring into his stable. Li’s students? Wang Rongsheng, and Hao Shunchang,

Note: Li Sanjian was credited with starting the line known as Seven Star Praying Mantis Boxing. Most people are now in agreement that this is false, and a way for Wang Rong Sheng to pay respect to his teacher, a branding advantage, or otherwise. Li never did mantis boxing, and while it is possible he knew, or knew of Liang, there is no indication he learned mantis from Liang, and was a more famous fighter by all accounts than Liang.

Liang Xuexiang, and Li Sanjian were both renowned escort-masters that ran dart bureaus (​ biaoju ) ​ in their lifetime. While they were likely still quite capable at defending themselves, it seems more plausible that they saw the writing on the wall in violent and chaotic times, and circled the wagons so to speak. Calling on younger, more capable fighters to assist them.

These fighters would benefit immensely from this relationship as well. It would after all, be an honor to claim either of these famous veterans as one’s teacher. The younger generation benefiting from this arrangement as much as the old.

The fighters under Liang Xuexiang, if they learned techniques from him, would then add Liang’s techniques (these hooking methods) to their own fighting skills. Each of these men could reasonably be considered rough and tumble fighters since they have each gone through multiple ‘mass droughts/famines’, rebellions, and grew up in a region full of strife. Their home province of Shandong has a reputation in China for producing tough, hardy people, especially boxers. It is a significant region in the history of the nation, where rebellions, bandits, invasions, and catastrophe have all left their mark.

The 4th Generation prior to ‘Mantis’

Style Notes:

Luohanquan, or Arhat Boxing, is a term developed in the early nineteen hundreds by boxers of the time attempting to revise history and accredit their martial arts to Bhudda. Stripping this away, it points to a general ‘Chinese boxing’ style of the Qing era that comprised of many common techniques that were not particular to any one ‘style’. ​ ​ Without the ability to label them, anything not clearly defined, usually gets called luohanquan.

Changquan, or Long fist is a more modern term used to classify the large body of ‘styles’, or more appropriately, boxing methods of the northern Chinese provinces. This can include lesser known styles as well as techniques shared in Hong Quan, Meihuaquan, Tongbei, Tanglang, Ying Zhua, Taijiquan, etc.

Hou Quan, or Monkey Boxing, is by all accounts one of the older ‘systems’ in the north. As evidenced by mention of it in Qi Jiguang’s book, in which he takes survey of the local martial arts in 1560 during the Ming dynasty. 300 years prior to the lives of these boxers.

Ditang, or Ground Boxing, is still alive in Shandong to this day. Evidence is lacking from General Qi’s book on the existence of ditang during the Ming, but it is apparent that it predates, or at the least runs concurrent with mantis boxing.

Liuhequan (6 Harmony Boxing), aka xingyiquan is a style born from the Muslim population in northern China and eventually adopted by the Dai family as the fighting methods for their biaoju company, and the guards under their employ. This is relevant to mantis boxing as it is the primary influence behind the 6 Harmony Praying Mantis Boxing line.

The following styles are accredited to each of these mantis boxers prior to their association with tanglangquan.

• Jiang Hualong - luohanquan, hou quan (monkey boxing)

• Song Zide - luohanquan, hou quan (monkey boxing)

• Hao Lianru - luohanquan

• Sun Yuanchang - ?

• Wang Rongsheng - changquan (long fist) + ditang quan (Ground Boxing) + whatever Li Sanjian taught him. Although that relationship was similar to Liang and his disciples.

• Ding Zicheng - luohanquan (family art), xingyiquan/liuhe.

Four of the above mentioned fighters all opened schools post Boxer Rebellion. One of these boxers, Wang Rongsheng, goes on to teach two people privately. A disciple named Fan Xudong (silk merchant), and Wang’s own son. Prior to this, or during, Wang became good friends with Liang’s disciples, and at this time they shared knowledge with one another. Eventually all adopting the common banner of ‘Praying Mantis Boxing’. Each of them have all survived harrowing times up until this point.

6 Harmony Praying Mantis continued…

It is not until the 3rd generation of the 6 Harmony line (and 5th with the main mantis line), that ‘mantis hooks’ show up in 6 Harmony. Also accompanied by more forms. Ding Zicheng grew up under the tutelage of Lin Shichun. Learning Ding’s methods/bodyguard techniques. As we travel into the 20th century, Ding becomes good friends with one of Jiang Hualong’s students - Cao Zuohou, a 5th generation mantis boxing practitioner, now branded as plum blossom style mantis.

Ding and Cao, go on to share students with one another and cross pollinate. It is noted in their records that their followers could come and go to either school. This period is where we begin to see the additional 6 Harmony Praying Mantis Boxing forms. Post Boxer Uprisings and well into the ‘martial arts for physical education’ stage of Chinese history.

Resume Main Line…

Each one of Liang Xuexiang’s students, as well as Wang Rong Sheng, goes on to brand their own version of mantis (seven star, plum blossom, and supreme ultimate). This draws into question the legitimacy of the existence of a ‘praying mantis boxing’ prior to this generation.

Evidenced by the simple fact that the only commonality among all of their arts are the following:

• Forms with shared names.

• The move known as ‘mantis catches cicada’ (engarde with hooks). Which appears to be nothing more complex than ‘branding/marketing’.

• And the hooking techniques -​ seize leg, twisting hook, piercing hooks, lifting hook.

Nothing listed above is unique per se. The hooking techniques, absent the extra, and highly impractical curled fingers, all exist in Shuai Jiao records. Perhaps these methods were unique to this area at the time, exclusive in the setups to initiate the moves, or the follow-ups to the technique if the move is countered. The last being of particular interest to other fighters as is found in modern fighting arts.

The forms vary from each line at this point, or perhaps were mutated in the generation(s) to follow.

Note: Assuming the style existed prior to these boxers, or more specifically the forms of mantis boxing, and the methods of the mantis were Liang Xuexiang’s and his teachers before him; why would these boxers take it upon themselves to change these forms? Practitioners since then, have been incredibly adept at keeping these forms intact for the past 100+ years. Why would all of these boxers alter them?

Without supporting evidence to the contrary, it is difficult to accept that the name Praying Mantis Boxing existed prior to this point in history. It appears more likely that it was created by these 4th generation boxers/friends in the early 1900’s post Boxer Uprising, well after Liang Xuexiang, and Li Sanjian are deceased.

Did these younger boxers/friends brand their stuff ‘mantis boxing’ as a group? Was it based on the techniques from Li Bingxiao they now have in common with one another?

This would explain how:

1. They each have different names of their mantis style. Each able to keep an individual identity because they all had their own techniques unique to themselves prior to incorporating these ‘mantis’ techniques of Li Bingxiao on down. We end up with labels to signify the differences of each boxer prior to intercepting mantis - seven star, supreme ultimate, plum blossom.

2. It perhaps explains why the forms are inconsistent in each line. Shared in name only, but beyond that never having more than 2 lineages with consistent forms to one another. If the forms were handed down for generations prior, they would be sacred and undisturbed, not changed by Jiang, Hao, and Wang. ​
   
   Liuhe tanglangquan ​(6 Harmony Praying Mantis Boxing) is a good example of this. The second generation of 6 harmony style (Lin Shichun) created a form known as Duan Chui ​ (the only form prior to the 4th generation. Duan Chui still exists to this day, relatively undisturbed. Practitioners of all other lines of mantis since this period, have been obsessively adept at keeping these forms well intact with minimal changes. This makes it all the more improbable that the 4th generation would all of a sudden change the forms as they saw fit. Unless…there were no forms prior to this time…or forms were considered insignificant and not revered as they often are today.

3. This would explain how, and why, Li Sanjian receives an honorary accreditation for a style he never did. It wasn’t a ‘style’ at all. It was a handful of techniques that Wang Rongshengs’ friends showed him. Wang never studied with Liang Xuexiang, as evidenced by the fact that he took the mantis moniker yet still claimed Li Sanjian (a non-mantis boxer) as his teacher.
   
   If Wang had studied with Liang, and then changed his forms without giving proper credit, it would be incredibly disrespectful, and dishonorable. His ‘friends’ would certainly take issue with this. Instead, if it were simply a handful of methods from Liang that were passed down, it would make it easy to blend in with the other things Wang already knew and learned. Wang keeps his ‘teacher’ because there is no pure ‘line’ of mantis boxing to be loyal to prior to this.

4. This also identifies why one of Wang Rong Sheng’s descendents was selected to represent ‘mantis’ in Jin Wu. Wang wasn’t ‘true mantis’ under the ‘Li Bingxiao -> Zhao Zhu -> Liang Xuexiang line’. So why would one of his students be picked to represent the mantis style for such a major endeavor in the south such a Jing Wu? If it really mattered that is? Why not one of the ‘true heirs’ - Jiang, Song, Sun, or Hao’s students? These boxers even had schools at the time, and Wang was only teaching one non-family member.

5. Lastly, this would explain why it was so easy for a 3rd generation descendant of Liuhe/xingyiquan to blend ‘mantis techniques’ that he learned from a 5th gen mantis practitioner, with his style of liuhequan. Combining a few techniques using the foundation taught to him by Lin Shichun, Ding Zhicheng wasn’t learning an extensive ‘system’, merely some techniques unique to these mantis boxers at the time. But certainly not unique in all of China, or the world.

What about the forms?

The forms could not have mattered. They obviously were not cemented in place. They were certainly not sacred if they were so freely altered. The techniques within these ‘sacred sets’ were common to other ‘styles’ of Chinese boxing, and Shuai Jiao in the region during that period of the Qing dynasty.

The curled finger mantis hooks expressed within the forms, are not necessary for the techniques to work. They all too often confuse observers/practitioners on the true martial intent of the move. If anything, they prevent the actual moves from working properly due to aesthetic stylization being placed above practicality.

What about the keywords? Aren’t they unique? Do they not define it as ‘mantis’?

No. I no longer believe this to be the case. These words are also part of the common boxing vernacular of the time. They offered nothing unique that isn’t found in Cotton Boxing and other fighter’s systems. Evidence by a few of the 12 keywords, and a plethora of techniques being shared with taijiquan. The mantis keywords that are not primary taijiquan principles, are listed in other subtexts as supplemental to the primary 13 keywords of taijiquan. A comparison can be found here in this working document Praying Mantis Boxing vs. Supreme Ultimate Boxing.

In Summation

As we would find in Brazilian jiu-jitsu today, with someone using the infamous ‘spider guard’ synonymous to that style - in mantis we have Li Bingxiao using his ‘double hooks’, aka - mantis controls/takedowns that caused him to stand out from the crowd of other boxers. Giving him an edge.

His methods were only allowed to exist as a ‘style’, because of a unique set of circumstances in history. Occurring at the end of an era of combat for survival, and the beginning of an era of wuxia, and physical education for profit.

Having seen and studied a wide range of Chinese boxing forms, provides me with a unique vantage point to be able to compare forms from various Chinese boxing systems north and south. The following are the moves I have found to be unique to ‘mantis forms’ that I have not seen in the other styles (this does not mean they do not exist. My knowledge/experience is certainly no where near all encompassing):

1. Seize leg (one variation)

2. Wicked knee

3. Hanging Hooks

4. Twisting Hooks

5. Pierce hooks (Edit: I later realized this is a shared application with one of the moves in Yang taijiquan’s - snake creeps down)

6. Possibly the ‘kicking legs’ methods are also unique.

All of the above methods are easily shared with competent experienced fighters/martial artists. Simple, easy to grasp methods. Akin to what ​ fighters​ would be learning from one another, rather than convoluted systems of 70, 80, or 100’s of techniques/moves.

If we take each ‘boxing set’ at face value as a fighter’s ‘system’, consider for a moment how unlikely it would be to collect those in times of chaotic strife...

----

Arriving full circle -

We need not be bogged down by the chains of the past - politics, lineage, forms, etc. Take the best, discard the rest.

What is Mantis Boxing? An arsenal of hands, elbows; knees, kicks; throws and locks from Chinese boxing. We have the keywords to define it, and learn by. We have the roots. We honor them in our practice and continuation of the art.

Rise from the Ruins: Embarking Into A Dying Art of Boxing

Finding the Mantis

I came across the art of Praying Mantis Boxing in of all places - New Hampshire, USA back in the 1990’s. I was correcting course in my life and on a quest to empower myself with martial arts training and the skills to know how to handle myself. A desire of mine since childhood. I immediately fell in love with the art, even in it’s corroded state.

Sadly, time has not been kind to this, and many other Chinese boxing systems. Much damage has been done over the past century or more, as these arts were no longer used for combat. By the time I began my training, it was difficult to tell what Mantis Boxing was in its original manifestation.

What remained was largely boxing sets (choreographed fighting moves in the air known as forms/kata/taolu), myriad drills, and a plethora of archaic Chinese weapons techniques of a bygone era.

Due to this decayed state my journey early on with this art was difficult and fraught with challenges in finding answers, or seeing an effective use of these movements in sparring/combat. Thankfully, we do have those who carried the torch over hundreds of years; bringing with them the keywords of the style as well as the old ‘boxing sets’ which allow us to view into the past.

I have dedicated over 20 years to mantis boxing, as well as other stand-up fighting arts in a quest to reconstruct the art so that it is intact for my students going forward. Through traveling, studying with experts, training, competing, teaching, sparring, researching; anything I could find that would yield improvements. We move forward with methods so that others, like you, can receive a fighting art that is versatile, effective, and well…quite frankly - RAD!!!

My efforts to ultimately reshape, redefine, and revolutionize the art have created a new version of mantis boxing that is relevant for self-protection in modern times. This last part being of great import to me. I believe any martial art should be applicable and functional. Ensuring not only its own survival for future generations, but also the survival of its practitioners.

BOXING SETS

Throughout my martial arts career I have had many opinions on forms/boxing sets. These viewpoints have shifted like the swirling tides along the rock-strewn coastline of Maine. Early on, when I began my training I was heavily invested in these sets. They were, after all, the primary method of transmission for the art that I chose to study - Tángláng Quán (Praying Mantis Boxing 螳螂拳), and before that, Tae Kwon Do.

Mantis Catches Cicada - circa 1999

Mantis boxing was handed down to me by my early teachers, and their teacher’s before them, with forms as a primary method of transmission. Completely absent of the mechanical inner workings that made these moves functional with live opponents in actual hand-to-hand combat. In all fairness to the first mantis coach I had, was up front with me from the beginning about this. I was under no illusions.

Martial arts forms (kata, tào lù) are more plentiful today than in any time in history. They are widely disseminated in a variety of martial arts schools/styles across the United States, and around the world. A majority of ‘traditional martial arts’ competitions today, are centered around stylists competing with their form of choice. One is hard pressed to enter a school of karate, kung fu; kempo, tae kwon do; or tang soo do, etc. that isn’t consumed by a curricula filled with form after form. Once you complete one form, you’ve earned the ‘privilege’ to learn another...and another...and another.

Years into my training, I went on to scorn these empty shells. For quite some time actually. One reason I held such admonishment toward ‘forms’, was having learned over fifty of them in my first seven years dedicated to wu shu (martial arts) training.

As soon as I would finish one form, I would be handed another; whether by my request for some shiny new toy I was enthralled by, or a suggestion by the instructor(s). It became impossible to remember all of these sets, and far too time consuming to practice them all; little did I understand why at the time.

When it came to fighting and sparring in the martial arts schools I attended, the combative application was entirely disembodied from these forms; like a warrior’s sword detached from it’s handle - once upon a time a dangerous weapon to be feared, now - a toothless tiger.

Crossover from form to fighting never existed in the schools that I trained in. We would warm-up, practice movements, shadow box, and spar the last few minutes. When it came time to spar with classmates, it usually manifested as ‘bad kickboxing’. To be fair to these coaches, their passion lied with what they were teaching - forms, not fighting.

I kept sparring as much as possible, and competing in matches. I became increasingly frustrated over time. I would ask myself - “wasn’t the point of martial arts to learn how to defend yourself? Wasn’t the ultimate goal to become empowered? To know secret ways to disable attackers, fend off bullies, submit miscreants that wish harm upon us, or protect our families?” I was profoundly confused by the training practices I was experiencing, versus what I had envisioned martial arts being meant for.

COMBAT ARMS

Flight School - aka ‘Fight School’ - Alabama 1990

Having been in the military for a short period of my life, I was used to an environment built on training for ‘combat’. We certainly didn’t pretend to drive tanks, or fly invisible helicopters, fire imaginary bullets downrange, or use toy weapons. Lessons on my martial arts path were not adding up with my life experience. Why was a bulk of my time training, just pretending to fight opponents in the air???

While I was stationed in Texas, I briefly undertook the study of taekwondo until my military units’ training schedule was ramped up and I could no longer juggle it in. It was enjoyable at the time, but certainly wasn’t my favorite martial art style. I had a good teacher, and I enjoyed my time there (however brief), but the art was too simple, and too linear for my taste. However, to the instructors credit, in those classes we spent a bulk of our time sparring.

Years later, as I was well into my Chinese martial arts training, I knew something was amiss with the way I was being trained. I tried taking moves from some of the forms I had learned, and experimented with them while sparring in class. This was often met with punishment being doled out by my opponent’s barrage during my risky ventures. Still, I tried to pull them off, but rarely did I find success.

Instead of introducing something new into my game, it became increasingly easier to rely on a few well-timed tricks, and speed/power to overcome my opponents. Sticking to the attacks/counters I was already good at. Reinforcing my current skills rather than growing as a fighter/boxer/martial artist.

Along the way I had decided, with the encouragement, and support of those around me, to become a martial arts teacher for a living. I was instructing at another school while this metamorphosis was taking place, and I opened a school with a friend of mine (2004). Off we went. Things did not improve; quite the opposite actually.

MIRROR INTO THE SOUL

Chris and Vincent - Tournament - Fall 2007

Now that I was teaching others full-time, the disconnect became crystal clear. I no longer had only myself to worry about, but my reflection staring back at me day in and day out. That reflection was my students. The truth became less than encouraging. My students would learn to move, perform cool looking forms, win competitions, but their fighting skills were no match for other martial artists such as boxers, wrestlers, judoka, etc.

I would ask myself - “Why someone taking western boxing for 6 months, could decimate a practitioner from kung fu, karate, kempo, tae kwon do, etc.?” In many cases, the latter had been training for years, or in some case decades.

I was thoroughly frustrated. I could suffer this no longer. We can be either part of the problem, or part of the solution. So I began to change the way I was teaching. I turned the focus of my classes more heavily on qín ná (the Chinese submission art of bone/joint locking and seizing).

In my early training, I had spent 4 years studying this discipline in tandem to my forms regimen. Dedicating multiple hours each week with partners in my first mantis school, and training with friends on the side. I felt better. It wasn’t perfect, but at least this was drilling with live people, and I was giving my students something that felt like martial arts/self-defense, rather than dance.

Jess and Mike - 3 Section vs Staff - 2005

I incorporated more ‘2-person’ hand-to-hand, and weapon sets from kung fu. Again, thinking that at least these had combative moves that involved a live partner to test against. All the while, I was still voraciously searching for answers.

I made it my mission to figure out how these forms worked in fighting; continuing my research; sparring as much as I could with friends that were traditional martial artists, and who were also frustrated by the norm. I turned the pages of tome after tome, reading historical accounts, watching videos. Any sources I could find. I turned my attention and focus to seeking out the core/roots of each system. Then…something enlightening happened.

A pattern began to emerge. I noticed a common theme while traversing my archaeological quest. How these styles began…

• Tángláng Quán - two forms.

• Yīng Zhuǎ - two forms and one partner set.

• Tàijíquán - zero forms.

• Hóng Jiā (Hung Gar 洪家) - one form.

• Bāguà quán (8 Trigrams Boxing 八卦拳) - zero forms.

• Xínyìquán (Intent Boxing 形意拳) - zero forms.

The writing was on the wall. In giant print. None of these styles started out with…so...many...forms. It was now obvious to me what I needed to do. Purge!

I embraced the ‘less is more’ philosophy. Even though, and unbeknownst to me at the time, I was still clinging to too much material. I discarded a bulk of the forms I had learned over the previous seven years. I no longer practiced, or taught them.

I sought out the core forms of the arts that I really enjoyed - Praying Mantis Boxing, Eagle Claw, Tai Chi, and Xing Yi. My intent being to ‘mine’ these forms for applications. To see what the original methods, movements were, so I could reconstruct these arts. Lofty goals to be sure, but I was not to be deterred. I was too invested at this point.

Traditional Long Weapons - Nationals Qualifiers - 2004 - Hershey, PA

After repeated polite inquiries with various mantis boxing teachers around the country, I was rebuffed by taciturn ‘masters’ unwilling to share their art. They behaved as if these forms were valuable magical secrets. As if I was asking for their priceless gems.

These teachers clearly coveted their core forms, like a mage who possessively guards their spellbook. I truly failed to comprehend why teachers were so disinterested in...teaching. I was ready and willing to learn! Why were they not helping me?

I had been learning forms a dime a dozen over the years, why were these such prized antiquities? Instead of welcoming an interested student, people were possessive; greedy, condescending, and cold. Again, rebuffing my ideals of what a martial artist is about.

During my journey, I learned that one “Grand Master” went so far as to try and sue people for stealing his forms. His organization actually attempted to copyright them. Other’s demarcated forms with fake moves so they would know when someone ‘stole’ it from a video, demonstration, or tournament. Marring the art, and further tainting it from its original intent and true purpose. This was chaos incarnate, and I simply did not understand it.

Martial arts in general, and forms specifically, are not something one can ‘steal’. One can copy someone’s form, but if the ‘thief’ does not do the work, or fails to comprehend the intent of the moves within, they have no score.

If the purported burglar does the work - learns it, trains it, tries to perfect it; studies it thoroughly, then they have been taught. Perhaps, without them knowing they’ve been taught. As a teacher, or even a practitioner that wants their art to survive, is that not our ultimate goal and purpose?

Snakes Creeps Down (low single whip) Taijiquan demo - circa 2006

I continued on. I was teaching Tai Chi, and finding it difficult to find any sort of consistency from one person to the next when it came to the movements. Additionally, I could find no one that knew what these moves did, so there was no litmus test to know if a movement was ‘right’, or ‘wrong’. Every reason someone had, seemed esoteric, and subjective. Like judging dance, or art.

Xingyiquan was another focus of mine during this time. I enjoyed the premise behind it. I was told it was highly destructive, energetic, explosive, and aggressive. That it was a badass style of Chinese boxing. I was into that! A coach that introduced me to it, thought it would be a good fit for my…temperament.

Again, it seemed like the standards for success in xingyi, were completely arbitrary. The only ‘depth’ I was finding, was “sit in your san ti (3 dimensional shape) stance for 30 minutes a day.” Aside from that, I wasn’t told how to fix anything, or how to get better at xingyi. Later I realized - because you need to HIT things to really get it!!!

I sought out more coaches in these arts. I was successful in finding a tàijíquán/xingyiquan ‘master’; or so I thought. I attended one of his New England workshops and saw a glimpse of some power generation techniques in his Xing Yi that was of interest to me. I was told “he knows his stuff.” I thought there was something there, so I delved deeper.

I cobbled together some money and traveled to NYC to train with him. I hosted him for a few days at my house and school to help him share his art with my students. To hopefully glean greater technical knowledge from him on how these two arts functioned in combat.

It turned out to be forms, and hocus pocus. The tàijíquán was more incessant drumming of the most mundane minutiae. Where the hands should be aligned to maximize the ‘chi’. How one’s thumb position next to the quadricep was somehow important for mystical energy alignment. No accompanying demonstration of combat application to show why this mattered; nevermind how it was relevant in a real fight.

The renowned xingyiquan, a style known for its destructive capacity, and reputation for general badassery, was also more ‘air-fu’ (martial arts done in the air). Never hitting a punching bag, or pad. Never sparring. Never blocking and hitting. Just more chi (cheese). More pseudo-science. More nonsense. I left it behind.

In addition to the aforementioned individuals foul bathroom habits, and erratic/obnoxious behaviors, this arrangement was not working out to my satisfaction. Could ‘anyone’ in Chinese martial arts actually fight? Using Chinese martial arts techniques? I was growing more and more disenchanted.

Staff vs Staff - circa 2006

I returned to my research and training. Buying any books I could find. I read over 100 books on Tàijíquán, most of them a complete waste of time. It’s amazing how many words have been written about nothing.

I found the other arts lacking in content altogether. At least to my favor, tàijíquán is well documented. The most widely proliferated Chinese martial art in existence. Unfortunately, much of this is without practical meaning, and comprised mostly of esoteric beliefs, or lacking clarity of purpose. Whether this is intentional, or through innocent ignorance is certainly a matter of debate.

I took to searching for videos of the core forms of the styles I had chosen. For mantis boxing, I was able to find one of Bēng Bù (Crushing Step), but had no such luck with Lán Jié (to Intercept 拦截) , or Bā Zhǒu (8 Elbows 八肘). I ordered videos from China, familiarizing myself with the Chinese characters enough that I could search for books and VCD’s containing these sets, or anything close to them. I signed up for a Chinese class to assist in my quest.

My language venture did not last long. It turned out to be the same misguided approach to teaching language that is rampant in public, private, and even collegiate school systems across America even to this day. Grammar first. Years go by, and one is still unable to speak fluently, or converse with a native speaker. It is odd, that this failure of a student to speak, is not a measure of success for a language arts curriculum, or a teacher’s capabilities...

I digress. It so happened that in my research, I had come across an excellent resource of knowledge - an online forum for mantis boxers. Rich, and fascinating conversations took place in this venue, people seemed to be sharing knowledge and communicating their ‘secrets’ without reservation. I visited it from time to time, never saying much as they seemed far more knowledgeable than I; and there existed an hierarchy of lineage holders that I was not part of.

One day, I read a thread where an individual was chastising and insulting anyone who learned from a video. This individual was particularly demeaning, condescending, and harsh in their criticism. Stating matter of factly, that “anyone interested in learning mantis should only be doing so from qualified teachers; certainly not from video!!!”

This infuriated me. Who was this person to dismiss one of the three ‘primary methods of human learning’ (verbal, kinesthetic, and visual)? What position of expertise did they hold in life to stand up and blatantly proclaim that personal instruction (which I had experienced plenty of), was the ONLY way someone should, or could, properly learn. I balked at this notion. I broke my silence and chimed in.

My response was snarky; full of contempt. I no longer cared who held what position, or however ‘exalted’ they seemed to be. I had too many years of feeling like I had been duped. I rose up upon my soapbox and fired back my reply - “blah, blah, blah, - insert stuff about learning types and video being a modern tool to assist people, - blah, blah, blah”. Then (I paraphrase here) - “perhaps if you mantis masters were not so rude and possessive with your forms, those of us whom you shun, would study from you, rather than be forced to pick scraps from videos.”

Shortly thereafter, I had a reply to my post in the thread. I opened it, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I awaited the inevitable online battle that was sure to ensue. Knowing, full well, some virtual vitriolic response from the original author of the post was there unopened in my inbox. Instead, I was greeted with - “Come to San Diego. I’ll show you the core forms of mantis.”

What!?!?!?! I was stunned. Stopped dead in my tracks. This was not at all what I expected. Who was this person? What did they know? Why were they so quick to offer and share what everyone else tried to hide?

Mantis Boxing set - Báiyuán Tōu Táo (White Ape Steals Peach 白猿偷桃) - 2006

I looked at the member profile. They were a member for years, yet barely posted a thing. I found a name. I Googled it. Nothing (Google was in it’s infancy then). I searched further; looking deeper. I finally found some grainy black and white videos of this Mantis Boxer doing the form Bā Zhǒu (8 Elbows 八肘), and another of one of his black belts doing Tōu Táo (Monkey Steals the Peach 猴子偷桃).

I could tell from the way they moved that they knew how to fight. I replied. “I’m interested. Let’s discuss.” Phone numbers were exchanged. A time set to talk. After an hour or so long phone call, and a lengthy discussion on his background, methods of teaching, and why he only works the core forms of Mantis, I booked a flight and hotel to San Diego, CA. Off I went.

I never looked back. In my first 15 minutes of meeting with this mantis boxer, I learned more about ‘fighting’ than I had in 7 years of kung fu training.

“Where do you look when you fight?”, he asked. I thought about it, and replied with “I look off to the side of my opponent.” He paused, a quizzical look on his face. Apparently he hadn’t expected that response. Then came his reply - “Not at them?” I said, “No, but I’ve been told all things of the sort - look in their eyes. Watch their head…” He asked me why I look off to the side. “It’s just something I do.” I replied. “It seems to work better for blocking.” He grinned.

“You’ve figured something out”, was his response. This made me feel good. I was eager to hear more. He proceeded to explain the reason behind why I was doing this, why it worked, and drills to prove it. Beyond that, he offered up the name of a ‘principle’ to go along with it. I was ecstatic. This was amazing! I had never experienced such a thing in martial arts; neither kung fu, nor tae kwon do. A ‘principle’ to teach fighting!?!?!

We then proceeded outside to work on Bēng Bù, a form from mantis boxing, and the one I was already familiar with. I was more interested in Lán Jié, since I had been unable to find anything solid on this form. However, being one of the core forms of Mantis that I already knew, it was a good launch point and gave us a way to see what one another knew.

We spent the next couple hours training in the parking lot of my hotel in the middle of the night, and well into the next morning. He left for home, and I spent the next hour scrambling notes and trying to calm down enough to sleep.

Qín Ná (Capture and Seize 擒拿) training - circa 2000

The next day we met for training around 9 a.m. We spent hours in the park, going over mantis boxing’s Lán Jié (to intercept 拦截) - as well as an application for each move. I was ecstatic and soaking it up like a sponge. We broke for lunch in the early afternoon and then met up with some of his students at his house. Training went well into the night again.

He asked - “How did you learn to block punches?” I stood there for a moment, realizing how little I had been taught on this. Most of my experience with blocking had been from taekwondo. I replied with something that I can no longer recall, but surely it was meek.

He had me pair up with one of his students to show him how I block. I was not allowed to move, and his student was to throw slow, controlled punches while I demonstrate my blocking skills. He destroyed me.

I blocked one or two shots, and then I was lucky to block one of every five after that. His student, had only been training 1.5 years. I was on my 7th year of training. Countless trophies under my belt, and a National 2x Gold, 1x Silver Medalist. I was running my own martial arts school, with a cadre of dedicated students looking to me to teach them how to defend themselves. This was humiliating, demoralizing, and excruciatingly raw. I felt like a novice. I felt as if I had wasted all my efforts. Years of training had been for nothing.

Right then and there, I had a choice to make. I could leave. Throw my hands up in defeat and walk away; quitting martial arts altogether. Or…I could do something less extreme - go home. Go home and lie to myself that I did fine. That he cheated, or that he did something nefarious to trick me. Pretend I was better than I was.

I looked at his student. Then turned my gaze upon the teacher as he stood there quietly gauging my reaction. My brow furrowed, I looked him in the eye with all my will behind me, and said - “teach me.”

Nationals Qualifier 2004 - Eagle Claw Form - Traditional Hand Forms. Hershey, Pennsylvania

To be fair, and honest, this was a bit of a rigged game. I wasn’t allowed to counter-strike, move, kick, clinch, or takedown. Real fighting, does not subsist with such a ruleset. Just blocking for any length of time is a failed strategy. One should be delivering parry/counter, block/counter, move/counter, etc. But the lesson hit home nonetheless.

I revisited everything I thought I knew, from the ground up. Asking him to go over stances, footwork, punching; anything I had already learned, or thought I learned. I wanted to know what was missing. The rest of the weekend turned to working on everything but, a form. He had to keep asking me - “Don’t you want to learn this form you came for?” [With a grin on his face of course.]

I spent the next few years going to San Diego twice/year, flying this coach to my school once/year. I met up with him at other people’s schools just to squeeze in whatever training I could get with him. Here was someone that knew how to fight, and did Chinese martial arts. I was all aboard.

As far as forms go, I learned Lán Jié, Bēng Bù (again), Báiyuán Tōu Táo (White Ape Steals Peach), 5th Son Staff, Saber, Da Dao (Military Saber), and a couple of 8-Step Mantis forms. I also learned how to block, punch, kick, and move; as well as throws, joint locks, and his core fighting principles to diagnose problems we have when sparring.

He helped me fix some forms I still held onto such as liánbùquán, and gongliquan, and my tai chi knowledge grew deeper and richer. As time went on, I had so much practical knowledge to work, the forms seemed superfluous, and nothing more than distractions.

I progressed, and my students became more and more in need of real skills. I went on to scorn forms in full force. Thinking them unnecessary, archaic, and highly corrupted distractions. Time-sucks that stole focus away from the more important aspects of martial arts - application, combat techniques, and self-defense skills.

Regardless of my disappointment and waning interest in forms, throughout it all, some part deep inside of me always held on to the notion that they are significant, important, and central to the art. Not in the possessive covetous way other teachers hold on to them, but in some more intrinsically valuable way.

Afterall, why were these core sets so important as to be handed down no matter what line of Mantis one studied? Why did the same set, with variations of course, exist across multiple lines in the family tree of Mantis Boxing? Why did almost every style of Chinese boxing have a ‘set’, or ‘sets’?

Ultimately I came to the realization that forms are treasure troves of knowledge. Ancient vehicles designed to carry the knowledge of a fighter’s system. Without the techniques, principles, and applications to go along with it however, or the work ethic to practice them tirelessly, they are worthless shells of long forgotten arts. The form, cannot exist without the function.

Without function, martial arts forms are merely martial dance. A non-practical artistic representation of a bygone mode of combat, and self-defense. There is nothing whatsoever wrong with people wanting to participate in the practice of this ‘dance’. It is only problematic when they believe, or are allowed to believe, that this practice of shadow boxing, will lead to the attainment of ‘real’ fighting skills.

In today’s world of video, books, a literate populace due to mass education, and the accessibility of martial arts schools and resources, forms are no longer necessary for a teacher to carry on an art of hand-to-hand, or weapons combat. As evidenced by judo, jiu-jitsu, muay thai, wrestling, filipino stick/knife arts, boxing, and more. All existing without the need for forms to muddy up the waters, or distract students from the true goal of martial arts - the dedicated practice of methods of violence to empower, embolden, and strengthen themselves out of immediate necessity, or the potential threat of such.

What is sorely needed for Chinese boxing to regain its rightful place on the mantle of formidable martial arts in the world of today is - less forms. More techniques. More application, and definitely more sparring.

Collapse and Fall Into Ruin - (Beng 崩)

A huge thanks to Gene Ching and the team at Kung Fu Tai Chi Magazine for publishing my article this month. Such an awesome presentation! Thank you to my team - Holly Cyr, Vincent Tseng, Max Kotchouro, Bruce Sanders, and Sean Fraser for your assistance in making this happen. I am honored.

The article is an expose on the Mantis Boxing principle of Beng (Crush, or to Collapse and Fall Into Ruin). You can read the rest of the article 'Collapse and Fall Into Ruin' in the July/Aug issue on store shelves now, or available online.

Research Notes: (Open) Praying Mantis Boxing vs. Supreme Ultimate Boxing

Current document status: open and active.
Edited - 3-2020

Brothers in Arms: A Comparitive Analysis of Praying Mantis Boxing vs Supreme ultimate boxing (Tai Chi)

Although tánglángquán (praying mantis boxing 螳螂拳) and tàijíquán, also known as tai chi (supreme ultimate boxing 太极拳) have very different purposes in today's world, they share a plethora of similarities beyond just common fighting arts from the late Qīng dynasty in China. So much so, that I believe that they are intertwined in history.

Shared techniques, principles, and geographic location all hint to a broader cross-pollination of Chinese boxing techniques in this time period, and region. The reality is these styles have more in common with one another than any defining uniqueness.

For the past few years I have been working intermittently on this project and from time to time come back and update these notes with more findings, and observations. I noticed similarities with praying mantis boxing and supreme ultimate boxing back in 2012 while researching texts. At the time, I was doing an article on one of the keywords of mantis boxing - Kao (Lean), and I recalled the 13 characters of tàijíquán had the same keyword.

I decided to do a character comparison between supreme ultimate boxing and mantis boxing, and see if it was the same 'kao'. Sure enough, they were the same character. I quickly then asked myself, ‘if these were the same, were their other keywords they had in common?’

This lead to further research and comparisons, and soon I had a series of principles and sub-principles that drew a solid link between the two styles. Showing clearly that they held more similarity with one another than not. The English translations people use can vary, but the Chinese character for many of the keywords is found to be the same for each style.

Below is a work in progress but it is far enough along that I can share it. 

Note: when I refer to Taijiquan, I am referring to my background in Yang style Cotton Boxing. The name was changed in the late 19th or early 20th century when the practice shifted to fitness/health, from practical fighting art.

The original names of Chen, and Yang family styles (see below), were very different than the broad characterization of tàijíquán they are muddled in nowadays. From my research it has been hard to locate any evidence of the term tàijíquán in relation to these 2 families and their boxing systems prior to the second half of the 19th century when the Wu brothers wrote about it.

The Wu’s studied with Yang Lu Chan, patriarch of the Yang family. Who had trained with the Chen family but used his own combination of 37 techniques later known as Yang style tàijíquán but what Yang referred to as mianquan, or cotton boxing.

I’ve been able to trace (thanks to the translations of other researchers that speak Chinese) that the Wu’s later studied with Yang’s son after he passed away. Eventually they separated into their own style, and from all outward appearances, then began branding it as tàijíquán, or Supreme Ultimate Boxing.

One can quickly surmise that if the Wu’s called it such, that the grandson to the founder of the Yang family’s boxing system himself, Yang Cheng Fu, who incidentally is the most influential in the spread and recognition of tàijíquán in the world today, would lay claim to that name since the Wu’s learned their art from his family/grandfather.

From there the Chen family catching wind to this, could certainly take notice and say, ‘how can you be the ‘Supreme Ultimate’ Boxing if Yang Lu Chan learned from us?’ Thus, I believe the chain reaction that caused them to possibly take on the name/moniker of tàijíquán across all families.

Regardless of the chicken and the egg argument, the fact remains that the keywords used by tàijíquán share many common terms/principles with tánglángquán. Speaking to a larger overriding argument that there was more in common with all styles of Chinese boxing as a whole rather than differences.

The following are examples of the crossover between these two arts from northern China and the Yellow River region:

12 Keywords
of
Praying Mantis Boxing
(Táng láng quán 螳螂拳)

1. Hook (Gōu 勾)

2. Clinch (Lǒu 摟)

3. Pluck (Cǎi 採)

4. Connect (Zhān 粘)

5. Cling (Nián 黏)

6. Hang (Guà 掛)

7. Wicked (Diāo 刁)

8. Enter (Jìn 進)

9. Crush (Bēng 崩)

10. Strike (Dǎ 打)

11. Adhere (Tiē 貼)

12. Lean (Kào 靠)

13 Keywords
of
Supreme Ultimate Boxing
(Tài jí quán 太极拳)

1. Arrow-Quiver (bīng 掤)

2. Stroke (Luō 擠)

3. Press/Squeeze - (Jǐ 擠)

4. Press/Push, Keep a hand on (àn 按)

5. Split (Liè 挒)

6. Pluck (Cǎi 採)

7. Elbow (Zhǒu 肘)

8. Lean (Kào 靠)

9. To Enter (Jìn 進)

10. To Retreat (Tuì 退)

11. Left

12. Right

13. Central Equilibrium

Shared Keywords

Includes the primary keywords listed above, sub-principles listed in the tàijíquán manuals, and some tánglángquán correlating evidence.

Hook (Gōu 勾)

A predominant tool in tánglángquán and the first keyword, yet absent from the keywords in tàijíquán. However, it is still used in tàijíquán, and seen in techniques such as strum pipa, single whip, and snake creeps down. Hook, is also listed within sub-principles in tàijíquán manuals. Similar usage in application of ‘single whip’ vs ‘slant chop’, the initiation of pluck, requires a grab, or a hook. Hooking was not unique in Chinese boxing, and is quite prevalent in many of the various ‘styles’ from the region, including numerous shuai jiao applications. It would be more difficult to explain why ‘hooking’ wouldn’t exist, rather than why it does.

Pluck (Cǎi 採)

The ‘pluck’ principle is not only present in Chinese arts, but exists in styles from around the globe. In wrestling styles of the west it is commonly referred to as a ‘snap down’, but the arm variation of pluck, while included in the Chinese variant, exists in the west as a separate method known as a ‘drag’. This keyword runs strong in tánglángquán, and tàijíquán and it used heavily in conjunction with hooking, or splitting.

Enter (Jìn 進)

To enter as in a doorway. To advance. This keyword is shared between both tánglángquán, and tàijíquán, and other styles as well. The entire premise with xíngyìquán (mind intent boxing 形意拳) for example, is to go forth and blast someone with full intent. The concept of advancing in xíngyìquán is more in line with tánglángquán. Within tàijíquán, we see the concept of yielding and retreating displayed more prominently in their framework. I would attribute this less to any sort of superior approach, and more to do with the framers incorporation of taoist, or Chinese philosophical beliefs in general, into the tàijíquán agenda. The concept of Enter is straight forward - go in. Do not dally. Press the attack into the opponent to overwhelm them.

Lean (Kào 靠)

Both ‘styles’ work inside and outside of the clinch. Whenever we’re engaged in this range, we should be leaning forward to prevent easy takedowns, or being uprooted with minimal effort. The lean principle can be applied this way, but…it’s true measure is within the application of throwing techniques such as crashing tide, or white crane spreads wings. In both praying mantis boxing, and supreme ultimate boxing, the designer of the framework for these arts that later became known as the keywords, sought to convey significant value to this character and its importance.

Connect (Zhān 粘) | Cling (Nián 黏)

[In process] - Correlation between - Connect/Cling found in tánglángquán vs Stick/Adhere/Connect/Follow within tàijíquán. The significance of sticking.

Adhere (Tiē 貼)

Any grappling based art, or hand-to-hand combat system that includes grappling, whether on the ground, or stand-up, would be remiss not to include such a principle. This is further supported by this character being prominently listed in both tánglángquán and tàijíquán which use grappling and clinch work in their application. Tiē, is an emphasis on sticking, but closer in than the aforementioned sticking highlighted in both arts with Zhān, and Nián.

Elbow (Zhǒu 肘)

One of the core forms of mantis boxing is known as 8 Elbows, or Ba Zhou. The use of elbows is highly prevalent in Mantis Boxing. This correlates to the emphasis placed on the ‘elbow strike’ in tàijíquán in it’s prime principles.

Notes on ‘Ward Off’

The first keyword of taijiquan is often called - Peng (ward off). I was unable to prove this to be true in my research. Much of my findings indicated a schism in the tai chi community at large, over what the original Chinese character was. Some claim it to be peng, others bing, what I used above. What is the most important factor here is the Chinese character. If the community cannot agree on what the original character was then any translation or meaning of the first keyword is null and void. We cannot translate that which we do not know, or are incapable of agreeing upon. This coupled with Yang Lu Chan, founder of Yang family style taijiquan, being recorded as illiterate, makes it even more preposterous to claim original intent here.

Additional Commonalities

Kicking Methods

The two styles share their kicking strategy in common. Some of the kicks found in both styles are the ‘heel kick’, ‘toe kick’, and ‘cross kick’.

Striking & Blocking

The two styles share common striking attacks and counters.

• ‘Deflect, Parry, Punch’ from supreme ultimate boxing is also found in mantis boxing forms.

• Both styles depend on an upper block combined with a counter strike down the middle; known as ‘bend bow shoot tiger in tàijíquán, or ‘pao quan’ in xíngyìquán. This move shows up repeatedly in tánglángquán forms such as Tou Tao (White Ape Steals Peach).

• The use of the 'chopping fist' shows up in both styles. This appears to have been Yang Lu Chan’s primary offensive attack/bridge. I suspect, based on the expression and representation in the original Chen style form, known as ‘cannon fist’ that this is similar. This attack method is used repeatedly in styles of Chinese boxing found in the north and south, to include, but not limited to praying mantis boxing. Other styles/sets relying heavily on this include - gongliquan, lianbuquan, tongbei, changquan, choy li fut, etc.

• The Beng Quan (Crushing Fist) is used predominantly in both mantis boxing and Yang’s mianquan (cotton boxing). This attack is commonly found in mantis boxing forms, such as Beng Bu, Lan Jie, Ba Zhou, and Tou Tao, and more.

• White Snake Spits Tongue is also a shared attack in both systems. Parry and counter-strike to the eyes, or throat.

Throwing/Tripping Methods

The crossover here is expected to be heavy. I will name them as they come to mind, but given the prevalence of the Mongol influence in the north, and the wrestling techniques of the Steppe peoples permeating the local cultures, it is likely this will be one of the strongest areas of similarity and crossover. Many of the movements are even evidenced back to the 1500’s in Qi Jiguang’s unarmed boxing set used to train troops in the Ming dynasty.

Techniques

• Snake Creeps Down is the same move/attack as found in tánglángquán’s piercing hook method.

• Single whip in tàijíquán is the same method known as slant chop in tánglángquán.

• Grasp Sparrow Tail:
  Stage 1 - rowing hook variant (see below).
  Stage 2 - known as double sealing hands in mantis boxing.
  Stage 3 - known as ‘crashing tide’ in mantis boxing.
  Stage 4 - double push takedown found in an opening move of mantis boxing form known as lanjie, which evidence points to meihuaquan origin.

• Step Up to Seven Star is a second variation of ‘crashing tide’ that is found in another mantis boxing form. The same move, expressed with variation on the leg execution based on grappling pressure of opponent. The monkey stance or bow stance version is heavy forward momentum when going from striking to takedown. The seven star variant is when adhering to the opponent in the grapple and using forward pressure (lean) and trapping the leg to prevent the step out.

• Strum Pipa is known as ‘white ape invites guest’ in mantis boxing.

• Diagonal Flying is a shuai jiao move known as a rowing hook. The flying diagonal is one variant.

• Golden rooster rises up is also a rowing hook variant and is found in lan jie form in mantis boxing.

• to be continued…

Two Roads Same Path

The two styles took very different paths as time passed, yet originated with a similar intent. Yang tàijíquán was very condensed; using one form to house the entire system of 37 applications.

Tánglángquán, on the other hand, had 2 or 3 original forms (allegedly), and later became bloated as more and more forms were piled on. The system split into multiple lines as did tàijíquán, except each branch with a multitude of varying forms, rather than a single representation, further diluting the art.

Tàijíquán, was also transformed into the health practice commonly known as Tai Chi today and was used for physical education. This took place in the early 1900’s; spearheaded by Yang Cheng Fu. It was excellent for all ages, and those who could not perform high impact exercise thus keeping it fairly intact through the ages.

Tàijíquán had already been split into different family lines (Chen, Yang, Wu, Wu Hao, and finally Sun). It split again post-transformation from fighting to fitness. The original Chen family style (Cannon Boxing), and Yang family style (Cotton Boxing), were combative and extremely condensed. See my article on ‘The Dirty History of Tai Chi’ for more details, and a bibliography of sources.

Praying mantis boxing, was also absorbed into the national movement for better health and fitness. Jin Woo, Nanqing Guo Shu Institute are examples, but with a different methodology. They added pre-requisite forms known as fundamentals training prior to being able to focus one’s studies on mantis boxing, or another style. In Jin Woo, practitioners performed sets at a faster, and more athletic pace, to a fault; as this later became a standard by which your ‘art’ was judged, versus the original combative intent.

In the end, it saved neither from becoming obsolete, broken, and losing their teeth. Lucky for us, the forms, and the keywords/principles survived; making reassembling the arts still possible.

Below are maps to show the provinces in China where these styles originate. Eastern Henan Province, Shandong, and Hebei province.

As Douglas Wile points out in his book - ‘Lost Tai-Chi Classics of the Late Ch'ing Dynasty’,

“the Yellow River basin was a hotbed for martial arts training and fighting. Many famous boxers emerged from this region and went on to be accredited with founding of their own fighting systems.”

Crossover of techniques and principles that work, or the use of a technique that defeated another opponent, would surely be picked up and used among anyone in the know.

The common use of bēng quán (crushing fist 崩拳), pào quán (cannon punch 炮拳), and pī quán (chopping fist 劈拳) in Xing Yi Quan, Tang Lang Quan, and multiple family styles of Tai Ji Quan offers a clear example of this cross-pollination of techniques.

Maps

Yantai, Shandong, China. Birthplace of Tánglángquán

 

Chen family village. Henan, China. Birthplace of Tàijíquán

 

Dai family biaoju company. Xingyiquan Region

 

---

Research Bibliography and Character Sources:
 

• Lost Tai-Chi Classics of the Late Ch'ing Dynasty, Douglas Wile, 1996, SUNY Press

• 12 Character Formula by Michael Dasargo

• Mastering Yang Style Taijiquan - Fu Zhongwen, translated by Louis Swaim 1999, North Atlantic Books

• The Essence and Applications of Taijiquan, Yang Chengfu, translated by Louis Swaim, 2005, North Atlantic Books

• Brennan, Paul. 2013. EXPLAINING TAIJI PRINCIPLES 楊班侯 attributed to Yang Banhou [circa 1875] - https://brennantranslation.wordpress.com/2013/09/14/explaining-taiji-principles-taiji-fa-shuo/