novellaaa Chapter 128 Martial Arts Student Clashes with Cold Light, Loser Breaks Spear
Chapter 128 Martial Arts Student Clashes with Cold Light, Loser Breaks Spear
Chapter 129 Martial Arts Student Clashes with Cold Light, Loser Breaks Spear
The door opened.
Lu Cheng went inside.
The room was simply furnished, yet it exuded a sense of sophistication.
In the very center of the room, on a grand chair, sat an elderly man in his sixties.
The old man was wearing a white silk jacket with a front opening, and he was holding two walnuts in his hands. They were two top-quality three-sided lion's head walnuts, which were reddish-purple.
His hair was gray, but it was combed neatly. His face was full of wrinkles, and each wrinkle seemed to hold a story.
What's most impressive about him is his eyes.
Those were eyes that had witnessed too many lives and deaths; calm, yet sharp as a knife.
Master Yuan.
This is the uncrowned king of Tianjin Wei's underground world.
"Junior Lu Cheng greets Eighth Master."
Lu Cheng took off his hat and clasped his hands in a salute.
Master Yuan did not rush to speak.
His old eyes scrutinized Lu Cheng from head to toe, while the walnuts in his hand spun rapidly, making a clattering sound.
"Lu Cheng?"
"Is that the actor who beheaded Chiba in Beiping with a single stroke?"
He didn't use the word "actor" with contempt; on the contrary, it carried a hint of amusement.
"It is indeed I, the junior," Lu Cheng replied, neither humble nor arrogant.
"Good, what a physique, what a menacing aura."
Master Yuan nodded and pointed to the chair opposite him.
"sit."
"Boss Mei wrote to me saying you would be coming."
"But I didn't expect you to come so quickly and be so bold."
Lu Cheng sat down, his expression calm.
Time waits for no one.
"Eighth Master, since you're both straightforward people, I won't beat around the bush."
"I came here today for President Liu and the others from the Simin Martial Arts Club."
"I want to know—where are they right now?"
The walnuts in Yuan Baye's hand suddenly stopped.
He looked at Lu Cheng, the playfulness in his eyes vanishing.
"Young man, this pool of water is much deeper than you imagine."
"Do you know who's involved in this?"
"Who?"
Master Yuan stretched out a finger and pointed out the window, towards the direction of the Japanese concession.
"It's not just the Black Dragon Society."
"And also—the Special Higher Police of the Japanese Kwantung Army."
"and--"
Master Yuan lowered his voice, which carried a chill.
"There are still some of our own people involved here."
There are traitors.
Lu Cheng's eyes turned cold.
"Who?"
"Ma San, the president of the Tianjin Martial Arts Association."
The lights flickered in the private room of the teahouse.
"Ma San?"
Lu Cheng frowned; the name sounded somewhat familiar.
"Is that Ma San, the one who betrayed the Gong family and sided with the Japanese back then?"
Master Yuan nodded and sighed.
"That wretched child."
"Ever since he defected to the Japanese, this guy has been doing really well in Tianjin."
"Relying on his exceptional martial arts skills and the backing of the Japanese, he managed to create chaos and disorder in the Tianjin martial arts community."
"On the surface, the Black Dragon Society spearheaded this 'martial arts exchange,' but in reality, the scheming behind it all came from that bastard Ma San."
As he said this, Master Yuan spat out a mouthful of contempt.
"That bastard, he sold out his ancestors just to pledge his allegiance to the Japanese."
"He advised the Japanese to use the colorless and odorless Western poison 'Muscle Softening Powder' to put in the victory celebration wine, which led to the capture of President Liu and his men."
"Otherwise, do you think those few Japanese ronin could hold back our great masters from the north? Dream on!"
Lu Cheng was furious upon hearing this, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.
These traitors who betray their compatriots and forget their roots are more hateful than the Japanese!
"Are they at the Hongkou Dojo?" Lu Cheng asked.
"right."
Master Yuan looked solemn.
"Hongkou Dojo was the heart of the Japanese concession, surrounded by Japanese soldiers. Not even a fly could get in."
"Moreover, it is said that Yagyu Shizuku, who escaped back, is also recuperating there."
"Plus that traitor Ma San, and the Black Dragon Society's experts—"
"That's a den of dragons and tigers."
"Brother Lu, I know you are skilled in martial arts, but even the strongest fists can't fight against many hands, let alone in such a deadly situation."
"Saving people is as difficult as climbing to heaven."
Lu Cheng remained silent for a moment.
He picked up his teacup but didn't drink it, watching the tea leaves bobbing up and down inside.
"Eighth Master, since you've told me all this, surely—you have a way?"
Master Yuan smiled, a hint of appreciation appearing on his wrinkled face.
"It's so refreshing to talk to smart people."
"There is a way."
Master Yuan took out a bright red invitation card with gold lettering from his sleeve and gently placed it on the table.
"Three days later, Ma San will hold a grand banquet at Dengyinglou, the largest restaurant in Tianjin, to commemorate his retirement from the life of a convict."
"In name, he wanted to retire from the underworld and hand over the position of chairman to a younger person."
"Actually—"
Master Yuan gave a cold laugh.
"This is the 'coronation ceremony' arranged for him by the Japanese."
"He intends to publicly announce at the banquet that the Tianjin Martial Arts Association has submitted to the Japanese, and to publicly display the various martial arts manuals and tokens that he seized from President Liu and his group, in order to demoralize the Chinese martial arts community."
"This is not just a banquet, it's a trap—a trap."
"All the prominent figures in Tianjin were invited. I received one too."
Master Yuan pointed to the invitation.
"At that time, the defense of Hongkou Dojo will inevitably be a bit lax, because the main force will all go to Dengyinglou to support Ma San."
"This is an opportunity."
"A diversionary tactic?" Lu Cheng's eyes lit up.
"No."
Master Yuan shook his head, a ruthless glint in his eyes.
"Yes—strike straight at the heart of the enemy."
"You can take this opportunity to sneak into Dengyinglou."
"In full view of everyone, in front of all the people of Tianjin, and in front of the Japanese—"
"Cripple that traitor Ma San!"
"As soon as Ma San falls, the momentum of this traitor will dissipate. Without this dog, the Japanese will lose their teeth to bite people indiscriminately."
"Then, we'll coordinate from the inside and outside, and take advantage of the chaos to rescue people at the Hongkou Dojo."
This is a risky move.
That's also a grand strategy.
The goal is to kill Ma San right under the noses of the Japanese, surrounded by hundreds of skilled fighters.
How much courage and skill does that require?
But Lu Cheng did not hesitate at all.
He reached out and picked up the invitation.
"it is good."
I've borrowed this post.
"Three days later, I went to wish Chairman Ma a happy birthday."
Tianjin, on the banks of the Haihe River.
The March wind, carrying the smell of the sea, wafted along the streets of the nine foreign concessions, creeping straight down people's necks.
"Newspapers for sale! Newspapers for sale! Chairman Ma San has retired from his criminal activities and is hosting a grand banquet with a hundred tables at Dengyinglou Restaurant!"
Newsboys, carrying canvas bags, weaved through the trams amidst their clanging sounds.
At this time, Dengying Tower was already adorned with red decorations and colorful streamers. The open space in front of the tower was cleaned up, and two rows of martial arts practitioners dressed in black silk jackets stood with their hands at their sides, their temples bulging, their eyes like knives stabbing at passersby.
This is Ma San's ostentatious display.
After defecting to the Japanese, he became even more arrogant in Tianjin than the foreign bosses in the foreign concessions.
Two days passed in the blink of an eye.
In the past two days, the Qingyun Troupe performed two major operas at the China Grand Theater in Tianjin.
Every show was sold out.
Although Lu Cheng did not perform on stage, he had Lu Feng and Shunzi take the lead, performing lively martial arts scenes.
These wolf cubs really lived up to expectations, unleashing all the ruthlessness they had honed in Beiping, much to the delight of the Tianjin audience.
After several scenes, the system's rewards were not lacking at all.
Lu Cheng's internal energy accumulation has reached a terrifying one hundred years.
"Good heavens, this group from Beiping really knows their kung fu."
"Absolutely! Those somersaults were like they were courting death."
The reputation of the Qingyun Troupe has become well-known in Tianjin.
This also became Lu Cheng's best cover.
Everyone assumed that Master Lu was just bringing his apprentice to make money, and no one expected that he was sharpening his knives, preparing to pull off a big heist.
nnag■n
Tianjin Wei, China Grand Theater.
This area was a port for trade between the Northern Ocean and the South China Sea, a melting pot of all sorts of people, and a very complex place.
The opera fans in Tianjin are notoriously "discerning".
Being famous in Beijing isn't enough; you have to establish yourself in Tianjin to be considered a true star.
Tonight, the China Grand Theatre is brightly lit and bustling with people.
All two thousand seats were occupied.
Vendors selling melon seeds, tea, and cigarettes weaved through the aisle, their shouts rising and falling.
"Hey, freshly cooked hot peanuts!"
"Cigarettes! In the private rooms on the second floor of Hademen and Laodao brand, the people sitting there are either compradors from the concession or gang leaders, each with slicked-back hair and powdered faces, and they are holding prostitutes who are all covered up like flower melons in their arms."
Backstage at the China Grand Theatre.
Lu Cheng was sitting in front of the dressing table, holding an eyebrow pencil in his hand, carefully drawing eyebrows in front of the bronze mirror.
Today he won't sing about the Overlord or Guan Yu.
He was going to sing a song called "Tackling the Chariots," playing the role of Gao Chong, the man in white robes and silver armor who single-handedly overturned eleven chariots.
"Sir, these Tianjin opera enthusiasts outside are really something else."
Shunzi pushed open the door and came in, carrying a bowl of "Guoba Cai" that he had just bought from the alley across the street. It was steaming hot, and the aroma of mung bean flour mixed with the smell of sesame paste.
"The ceremony hasn't even started yet, and the back gate is already piled high with flower baskets of all colors. Someone even gave me a pair of pure gold cufflinks. They said they'd heard so much about the 'Martial Saint' of Beiping and came especially to see him today."
Lu Cheng didn't stop writing; he lightly flicked his brow.
"Tianjin is located at the confluence of nine rivers, and people here are very particular about 'observation and shrewdness'."
"They're not respecting me, Lu Cheng, but rather the title of 'King of Peking Opera.'"
"Pack up the goods, keep a record, and return half of the money when the event ends."
Lu Cheng's voice was as calm as still water.
At this point, he had already mastered the art of transforming his internal energy, and every pore on his body seemed to breathe.
Even sitting in this chaotic backstage area, surrounded by the clanging of staff carrying boxes and the wailing of stuntmen practicing their singing, his own little space was as quiet as an ancient temple deep in the mountains.
"Chengzi, it's time to get ready."
Zhou Daikui had changed into a respectable long robe and was holding a sandalwood box containing the imperial seal.
"The grand 'washing away the old ways' banquet at Ma San's place is in the evening, while our 'Picking the Chariot' performance is at noon. We can head over there right after the show."
Zhou Daikui's eyes held a hint of worry; he knew that Lu Cheng hadn't gone to Dengying Tower to drink.
They went there to kill people.
Lu Cheng didn't speak, but slowly stood up.
He stretched out his arms.
"Lean on."
Half an hour later.
Chinese Theatre.
The seating area for three thousand people was packed so tightly it was impossible to breathe.
"I heard that Master Lu defeated the Japanese sword saint in one move in Beiping. Is that true?"
"Hey, you're just bragging! That kind of opera skill is just 'fancy tricks,' how can it compare to real swords and spears?"
"Look, the little tyrant of Tianjin's Peking Opera world, 'Yun Feiyang,' is here today, sitting in the front row. This gentleman is a legitimate disciple of a Grandmaster of Internal Energy, and says he's here specifically to meet the 'true Buddha' of Beiping."
The audience was buzzing with discussion, the atmosphere as heated as a pot of boiling oil.
"Cang—Cai—Cang Yi Cai Yi!"
The sound of gongs and drums exploded!
The curtain slowly rose, revealing the entire stage in silver-white.
Lu Cheng has appeared.
He was dressed in white armor, with four pure white flags fluttering in the wind behind him, and wore a Confucius helmet with long white pom-poms hanging down his head.
The white wax spear in his hand, without a spearhead, was activated by his "transformation energy" and the shaft faintly emitted a metallic hum.
He stood on the stage.
The once noisy theater fell silent instantly.
cold.
It's a chill that can see right through your bones.
On the stage, Lu Cheng's eyes were half-closed, exuding the same arrogant and domineering air as Gao Chong.
"Malaysia!"
He strode out, every movement of his body as precise as if measured with a ruler.
Just then, a sudden change occurred.
"Wait a minute."
A clear and powerful voice suddenly flew up from the first row of the audience.
The sound wasn't loud, but it made the teacups near the table buzz.
A young man dressed in a snow-white suit with his hair neatly combed suddenly leaped up from his seat.
He didn't step on the steps.
Instead, it was like a large hawk, soaring across three zhang (approximately 10 meters) in the air and landing steadily on the edge of the stage.
The display of light-footed skill immediately drew gasps of astonishment from the audience.
"Yun Feiyang, it's Yun Feiyang coming on stage!"
Yun Feiyang is currently the most popular martial arts actor in Tianjin. He is a disciple of the grandmaster "Iron Finger" Shen Conglong.
Shen Conglong was a close friend of Master Yuan and a legendary figure in the Tianjin martial arts world.
Yun Fei stared at Lu Cheng, his eyes burning with an indomitable spirit.
"Master Lu, I've long admired you."
He reached behind him and pulled out a long spear, pure carved, its tip gleaming with a cold, bluish light.
"In Tianjin, the rules for pear silk production are that newcomers must first pay homage to the master before entering the profession."
"Your 'Martial Saint for Generations' plaque hangs securely in Beiping, but in Tianjin, we'll see if my spear will allow it."
Lu Cheng looked at him, expressionless.
He maintained his arrogant posture, holding the gun in one hand and pointing it diagonally at the ground.
"How do you want to compete?"
Yun Feiya brandished his long spear, his momentum unstoppable.
"We won't compare anything else. We'll just compare the martial arts performer's specialty—spear technique."
"Whoever loses must break his own spear in public, be kicked out of the opera world, and never be allowed to perform on stage again."
"Master Lu, do you dare accept the challenge?"
The whole audience went wild.
Break the gun!
In the pear and silk trade, this was a gamble heavier than beheading.
As long as the gun is there, the person is there. If the gun breaks, the art is gone.
This is tantamount to completely cutting off the other party's path to survival.
Zhou Daikui, backstage, was so frightened he almost fainted: "Chengzi, ignore him! He's just a troublemaker instigated by the Japanese!"
At that moment, Lu Cheng suddenly smiled.
The smile appeared particularly profound against the backdrop of his flushed face.
"it is good."
"Since you insist on sticking out your gun, I'll grant your wish."
"However, I won, so I won't let you stick your gun out."
Lu Cheng raised his spear, and the chaotic light subsided.
"I want that plaque of yours—the one from the Grand Theater that reads 'Out of the Gate'—so that we can make room for our Qingyun Troupe."
"please."
Yun Fei let out a cold snort: "Arrogant!"
He moved!
That was the authentic spear technique passed down by a master of internal energy cultivation—the [Thirteen Deadly Spears].
The spear thrust out, instantly transforming into twelve spear flowers, creating a mix of illusion and reality, completely sealing off Lu Cheng's upper, middle, and lower body.
"Bravo!" The cheers from the audience were deafening.
Lu Cheng didn't move.
He didn't even use his internal strength, nor did he use the hidden force that was powerful enough to split mountains and shatter rocks.
He stood there, just as the tip of the spear was three inches from his brow.
Lu Cheng's wrist twitched slightly in a circle.
"bar."
The ash pole rested lightly on the steel gun.
There was no sound of impact.
That is the "sticking" state achieved through the ultimate practice of neutralizing force.
Yun Feiya felt as if the spear in his hand had been pierced by a ball of cotton, or as if he had been entangled by a giant python.
He wanted to smoke, but couldn't. He wanted to go in, but couldn't.
"take."
Lu Cheng pulled him backward with the momentum.
Yun Fei was shocked to discover that his center of gravity had been shifted!
Those were the movements he had practiced a thousand times on the stage, but now they had become puppets manipulated by Lu Cheng.
"tie."
Lu Cheng flicked his wrist.
The white waxwood stick without a spearhead slowly, yet unavoidably, struck Yun Feiya in the chest.
"Bang."
A muffled thud.
Yunfei retreated seven steps, each step leaving an indentation on the thick wooden planks of the stage.
As he took the final step, the spear in his hand began to vibrate violently, almost slipping from his grasp.
The entire room fell silent.
Those in the know can see the difference.
Lu Cheng didn't use any force.
He completely outmaneuvered Yun Feiya using his superior marksmanship.
This feeling is like a cat catching a rat in a jar.
"Again!"
Yunfei's face turned red; he had never suffered such humiliation in Tianjin before.
He charged forward again like a madman.
Guns rained down like a storm—thrusting, parrying, slamming, smashing!
Lu Cheng, still dressed in a white robe, strolled leisurely on the narrow stage.
The white waxwood stick in his hand seemed to have become a conductor's baton at that moment.
Each flick of the wrist precisely targets the blind spot where Yunfei is struggling to exert his strength.
"These are the guns from Tianjin?"
Lu Cheng suddenly spoke, his voice not loud, but it carried to every corner.
"All courage, no soul."
"Watch closely."
Lu Cheng suddenly drew a huge circle with his spear.
That's the "spinning" energy that Gao Chong used to lift the sled in "Picking the Sled".
"Let go!"
Lu Cheng gave a soft shout.
The white waxwood stick was rubbed against Yun Feiya's steel spear.
In that instant, Yun Feiya felt a spiraling force travel along the gun barrel and drill straight into his tiger's mouth.
Clang!
The hundred-pound spear flew directly into the air, spinning and embedding itself in the crossbeam above the stage, the spear still shaking violently.
Yunfei stood there dumbfounded.
He looked at his empty hands, then at the man opposite him whose breathing hadn't faltered at all.
He lost.
They were utterly defeated.
They were so defeated that they couldn't even touch the hem of someone else's clothes.
"I—I lost."
Yunfei gave a wry laugh, his eyes glazed over.
He turned around, stared intently at the spear on the crossbeam, and gritted his teeth.
"I, Yunfei, admit defeat."
"According to the rules, I'll break my gun and get out of Lijuan from now on."
He leaped forward to grab the spear, but stomped on the spearhead and broke it off.
"No need."
Lu Cheng's voice was like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing his madness.
Yunfei's body stiffened, and he fell to the ground.
"A gun is a warrior's courage. If you break your gun, you're useless."
Lu Cheng, carrying the white wax spear, slowly walked up to him and looked him straight in the eye.
"Your gun may lack soul, but its foundation is good."
"Keep this gun and go kill those who deserve to die."
"Instead of fighting amongst ourselves on this small stage."
Lu Cheng pointed to the gun that had flown up the crossbeam.
"Leave that gun there."
"Serve as a wake-up call."
"Before you take action in the future, think about who this shot is for."
Yunfei stared blankly at Lu Cheng.
He suddenly felt that his previous provocation was like that of a child showing off his teeth in front of a dragon.
They didn't see him as a rival; they saw him as a junior.
"Master Lu—"
Yun Fei let out a long sigh and took three steps back.
He didn't speak, but bowed deeply to Lu Cheng.
This bow was one of complete and utter submission.
>