Evolving the Middle Block from Hard Style System into a Soft Style Artform [Free Patreon Article]

I’ve recently launched a Patreon account so I could return to the applications seen in Breaking Through: The Secrets of Bassai Dai Kata. I wanted to share the deep dives into my ongoing research on traditional martial arts, including expanded photo sets, application breakdowns, and long‑form reflections that don’t always fit neatly into a standard blog post.

Since the launch of the book, we’ve had lots of great video from seminars and workshops. These are perfect to supplement the static photos in the book, and Patreon members get to see applications direct from the events we’ve held to celebrate the book.

The article below is one of the free pieces featured there, presented here in full on this blog. Patreon supporters get access to the extended series this article belongs to (see the links below), along with access to premium content and behind‑the‑scenes material from my current projects.


Right after a sparring session a few years ago, one of the black belts approached me and asked where I’d learned the hand skills I was using in our exchange. “Was that Wing Chun?” he asked. “Actually, it’s Traditional Taekwondo.” He didn’t believe me.

For nearly two decades my school and I have been analysing traditional martial arts patterns. This wasn’t reverse engineering, that is we weren’t trying to make old movements fit modern preferences. It was functional analysis aimed to reconstruct historical skills, or at least imagine what they were designed to achieve.

Take Bassai’s three middle‑block sequences. Our goal was never to justify the pattern. We wanted to absorb the technique phrase into our working vocabulary so we can use, test, and refine its tactical worth.

Is that a block, a strike, or a double strike – Colin at AMAHOF 2022 small

To explore the technique, we stand in front of an opponent who throws a slow attack, which we deflect. Then a slow combination, which we also deflect. As our ability improves, the difficulty of the attack increases. Eventually the two‑man exchange approaches full speed, and we can then move testing into an unscripted combative exchange. This is not done at full pace; both partners move proportionately to the other. This free‑flowing and ultra-safe environment lets us study whatever technique against a live opponent, and helps with the ongoing functional analysis.

This unscripted exchange has shaped our pattern analysis more than anything else. We’ve learned that every slice of motion can be used to deflect, cover, or strike. With a wide-ranging remit, we take aspects of the middle block, for example, using it to deflect a straight cross, and drill it, running variations upon variations. We do the same with the knife‑hand guarding block, the twin‑fist block, even an elbow strike. Eventually techniques blur and blend, becoming simply the read of distance, timing, angles of entry, and the expansion of your physical structure to connect with the opponent.

After my first book, I found myself writing a story set in 19th‑century Ryukyu, during the Japanese subjugation of the islands. The cultural pressure and financial hardship pushed former bureaucrats to develop a new training system called karate. As I researched the personalities and consolidated the historical canon, I began to understand how deeply Chinese martial arts, culture, and food influenced Ryukyu. That pushed me to study Chinese‑based systems and expand on the basic concepts I’d explored in my first book.

As opportunities arose to explore Chinese‑based systems, I found concepts that immediately clarified gaps I’d carried for years. The idea of fajin, and the broader principles of internal energy manipulation, offered powerful analogies for kinetic chaining and kinesthetic movement. They revealed how leverage, structure, and intent could be directed through the body to destabilise an opponent.

If you’re curious what this looks like in practice, I demonstrate a basic soft‑style leverage application in this clip: Hard-Style Meets Soft Style: Ryukyu Karate Applications You’ve Never Seen Before (2:44-3:21).

Even a basic understanding of soft-style principles have given me a deep appreciation of how muscle control, structure, and intent could be used to destabilise an opponent. Hard‑style training had always hinted at these dynamics, but here they were expressed cohesively, with a precision that made the underlying mechanics unmistakable.

Q. Is there a counterpunch in the technique, Mr. Miyagi? A. Ask drum

Behind-the-scenes at photoshoot for the book

With the middle block, the external training is still useful as it trains the practitioner to run interference on the opponent or weave through their defences. But inside the movement there could be more: the soft-style relay of waveform energy from the ground, through the body, into the opponent.

The middle block could be dismissed as arms waving in the air. But the hands should be waving, and transmitting the ground force travelling through the body. When the middle block connects, you’re sending that entire waveform through the opponent. Do you send it as a vertical pulse? Do you shake the tree? Do you float him while striking? Do you sink the energy so his hips collapse?

Or has the opponent trapped your limb, and you’re using the middle block to disrupt his centre of gravity before countering with a blitz?

When that black belt asked if I was using Wing Chun, he wasn’t wrong to see something unfamiliar. What he saw wasn’t a different style, it was the result of twenty years of digging beneath the surface of my own tradition. The forms gave me the entry point, but the real lessons came from what was there before the form: the centreline control, the kinetic chaining, the soft‑style leverage, the waveform mechanics that had never been spoken of aloud. I certainly didn’t set out to reinvent anything, and I never chased other arts to fill a gap. I simply followed my practice until it led me here, to a place where the form is no longer the destination, but a doorway to the lessons it always meant to teach.

Breaking Through Application One, Full Article Series:

Breaking Through Application Two, Full Article Series:

Bio: Colin Wee is a Singaporean author, martial‑arts instructor, and cultural historian whose four‑decade practice spans Asia, Australia, and the United States. Known for his analytical approach and deep tactical insight, Colin blends historical research with lived experience to illuminate the human stories behind martial traditions. He is the founder of Joong Do Kwan in Perth, Western Australia, and serves as Secretary of the Australasian Martial Arts Hall of Fame (see About the Author).

You can get a copy of Breaking Through: The Secrets of Bassai Dai Kata from Amazon or directly from the author at Ingram Sparks.

© 2023 Colin Wee. Images reproduced from Breaking Through: The Secrets of Bassai Dai Kata. All rights reserved. No part of these images may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

Bridging the Gap: Exploring the Connection Between Taekwondo and Karate

Colin Wee Knife Defence with Kidokwan Perth and Damien Merrin 2017
GM Kelly Cox and Master Colin Wee, Rendokan Dojo, Richardson, TX, 2023
GM Kelly Cox and Master Colin Wee at Rendokan Dojo, Richardson, TX, 2023. GM Cox teaches a number of systems, one being a traditional system named Marudo Karate-do, and both he and Colin find great similarities in their approach to training.

For a long time, the relationship between Karate and Taekwondo has been framed as a rivalry. But when you peel back organisational identity, stylistic branding, and historical development, a different picture emerges. The real connection between these arts isn’t found in how they look today, but in how they function when practitioners are under duress and when stylistic expressions are not a value add to a combative exchange.

This article isn’t about proving that Karate and Taekwondo are the same. It’s about understanding why they diverged from a shared lineage, what they still share, and where their tactical advantage lies.

Early Korean Karate/Taekwondo: Hard‑Style, But Not Yet Standardised

Recent archival comparisons done by Ørjan Nilsen, show that early Korean Karate, the precursors of modern Taekwondo did not entirely resemble modern Shotokan (see Early Taekwondo was just Shotokan (it was and it wasn’t)). Early Korean practitioners did train in hard, direct techniques, and linear entries. They just lacked the polished standardisation that JKA would later impose on Japanese Karate, or that ITF would later impose on Taekwondo. While some stylistic comparisons from this era could even be made with Okinawa’s Shorin‑ryu lineage such comparisons could only occur because practitioners were still figuring out what “hard‑style” meant. Both groups had still some way to go towards the “pre‑refinement” stage of their hard‑style evolution.

What Hard‑Style Martial Arts Actually Is (And Isn’t)

Master Colin Wee with his teacher Shodai Bryan Robbins, Dallas, TX, 2006.
Colin Wee with his teacher Shodai Bryan Robbins, Dallas, TX, 2006. Mr Robbins taught Colin Traditional Taekwondo and Aikido. Here Mr Robbins “catches up” Colin on both hard style and internal concepts he’s missed over intervening years.

Most modern definitions of “hard‑style” come from a Shotokan‑centric lens: linear acceleration, percussive techniques, rigid stances, and Shotokan’s muscle lock-down. But this is an aesthetic definition, not a functional one.

A more accurate definition is that Hard‑style is blitz‑fighting tactics. This means rapid entries, chunked sequences, and the reuse of high‑yield solutions that overwhelm an opponent. Yes, linear acceleration matters. But the real power of hard‑style lies in pre‑emptive striking and overwhelming pressure.

This is why beginners rehearse single techniques in line drills, and why upper belts should be “chunking” functional combinations until they become fluent. Hard‑style is not about looking rigid. It’s about revving a tactical engine that compensates for low fight IQ.

Why Karate and Taekwondo Diverged

Both JKA and ITF faced the same organisational challenge, they both needed to scale a martial art to thousands of students.

Like all member-based organisations, the answer relied on standardisation.

  • JKA created a precise, repeatable system that depended on a muscle lock down called ‘kime’ for power transmission, taught concurrently with an ethical code, and supplemented by a text written by the Father of Modern Karate titled “Rentan Goshin Karate Jutsu.”
  • ITF created a codified, rhythmic, prescriptive system packaged with Taekwondo’s Tenets. This was differentiated by a sine wave concept of power generation, and a reliance on the Founder’s Encyclopedia of Taekwon-Do.

The words used sound different, but also so similar. Even across the divide, these were the moves necessary for growth. But there’s a cost to this standardisation.

Internal Mechanics: The Part Everyone Forgot

Colin Wee attends AKATO Annual in 2016, representing the Korean MA lineage through his uniform, while standing behind his teacher Sensei Mike Proctor.
Colin Wee attends AKATO Annual in 2016, representing the Korean MA lineage through choice of uniform, while standing behind his teacher Sensei Mike Proctor, and enjoying the camaraderie of cross-training.

Recently, through research into my second book, I had the good fortune to explore Chinese internal arts and its influence on Ryukyuan fighting systems. Yes, indeed, research into an Okinawan ‘hard-style’ kata led me to fajin and how it utilised concepts like leverage and directional vectors. From that insight, I was able to gain a unique perspective of Taekwondo’s Sine Wave, though not the stylised version performed in tuls.

Master Colin Wee showing tactics that are not quite hard style, AKATO Annual and 50th Anniversary Celebrations 2026, Dallas, Texas.

Similar to the engine behind White Crane, Southern Chinese boxing, and early Okinawan Tode, the Sine Wave’s use of compression, expansion, and the release of energy along specific angles had more in common than most could see.

During a recent seminar with an ITF group, I used these internal Chinese principles and sent a black belt flying. Not because I was doing “Karate” or “Taekwondo,” but because I was using functional mechanics which underly both arts. In all honesty, I could have compared the movement to Taekwondo’s Sine Wave as much as I could to Karate’s Kime.

This ITF group shows that good training doesn't make them less good at Taekwondo. ApproachTKD Seminar in Aberdeen 2026.
This ITF group shows that good training doesn’t make them less good at Taekwondo. ApproachTKD Seminar in Aberdeen 2026.

The irony is that ITF practitioners perform sine wave every day, but its prescriptive choreography might not lead to this deeper potential. As my martial art colleague Dr Sanko Lewis has previously pointed out, sine wave has real value. Some of it comes to the fore in stand‑up grappling but only if practitioners are allowed to train in that manner (see The Sine Wave Motion as a Mnemonic Device for Joint-Locks and Throws).

Free Sparring as the Acid Test

When Karateka and Taekwondoin engage in dynamic exchanges, something predictable happens: many Karateka start punching like boxers, and many Taekwondoin start kicking like kickboxers.

Master Colin Wee mixing it up at Kidokwan Perth, 2014.
Master Colin Wee mixing it up at Kidokwan Perth, 2014.

Under pressure, practitioners reach for the simplest, most accessible combative analogies available. Boxing and kickboxing offer simple mechanics, high‑yield tactics, intuitive movement, and a plethora of training resources available through YouTube.

Under duress, and when stylisation drops away, almost all practitioners simply default to functional movement.

The Bridge Between Karate and Taekwondo

Karate and Taekwondo do not need to be stylistically similar. They do not need to agree on aesthetics, pedagogy, or organisational identity.

What they do need is an understanding of where their tactical advantage lies beyond blitz logic, and functional mechanics. Style is a school’s training pedagogy. Style is their training method. Aesthetic style however is not the end goal.

When practitioners mature, many transcend stylistic signatures and move toward functional, adaptive, and personal expression. And that is where Karate and Taekwondo finally meet. Not in how they look, but in how they prepare students for growth.