SWDnovel Chapter 125 The Overlord Weeps Blood, A Shocking Change in Tianjin
Chapter 125 The Overlord Weeps Blood, A Shocking Change in Tianjin
Chapter 126 The Overlord Weeps Blood, A Shocking Change in Tianjin
This cry of "The wind rises" carried no trace of the gentleness of traditional opera singing; instead, it resounded like a great bell, echoing loudly across the dome of the Tianqiao Theater.
The old opera enthusiasts in the front row, who were eating melon seeds and holding covered bowls of tea, froze instantly.
"Clatter".
Someone dropped their teacup lid on the ground and shattered it.
But no one picked it up, and no one bowed their head.
Three thousand pairs of eyes were fixed on the demon-like figure in the center of the stage.
The pale halo of the gas lamp shone on Lu Cheng, and the twenty-pound Overlord Helmet on his head had a red pom-pom that looked like a lump of congealed blood.
The eighty-pound Overlord Spear, its shaft pressed against the wooden floor, left a deep white mark.
This isn't a play.
This was clearly a peerless ferocious beast that had just emerged from a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, standing on the banks of the Wujiang River in Gaixia, coldly watching the assembled mortals.
"What a talent!"
The rhythm of gongs and drums spurred the activity once more.
According to the plot of "Farewell My Concubine", this should be a group scene of the Han army besieging the city and the Chu king being surrounded by enemies.
A dozen or so strong young men from the Simin Martial Arts Club and the Iron Fist Hall, dressed in Han Army uniforms and carrying red-tasseled spears made of white waxwood, charged out from both sides.
They are all trained martial artists, possessing genuine skills.
This group scene of "fighting" has been rehearsed countless times and is already very familiar to us.
But everything went wrong as soon as I stepped on stage today.
They dared not move.
I really don't dare to move.
Lu Cheng stood in the center of the stage. He did not deliberately release any aura, but the blood and qi of the "Transformation of Strength" master, pressed down by the twenty-pound heavy helmet, naturally radiated a kind of pressure.
It's like a real tiger lying in the middle of a flock of sheep; even with its eyes closed, the sheep will be so scared their legs will go weak.
The hands of the apprentices playing Han soldiers were trembling as they held their guns, their palms covered in cold sweat.
How do I fight this?
Master's aura is so powerful that even getting a little close makes it hard to breathe, as if that eighty-pound spear could pierce right through you at any moment!
"Go!"
In the background, Zhou Daikui was so anxious that he kept stamping his feet and waving his hands frantically in a low voice.
The experts in the audience also saw the trick.
"Hey, something's off here."
In a private room on the second floor, Mr. Cheng frowned slightly, twirling his prayer beads. "These supporting actors are being held back by Boss Lu's influence. If they can't keep up with the performance, things could get messed up."
Just when the stage was at a standstill and the play was about to fall apart.
"drink!"
A low growl, like that of a wolf cub, suddenly rang out from the Han army formation.
Lu Feng bit his tongue, using the taste of blood and the pain to forcefully break through Lu Cheng's abyssal and impenetrable pressure.
With bloodshot eyes, holding a white waxwood staff, he was the first to take a heavy step forward.
Immediately following was a deep, thunderous shout.
Shunzi stamped his foot, his towering frame still trembling slightly, but he gripped the gun barrel tightly in his hand and stood out side by side with Lu Feng.
"We are men of the Qingyun Troupe, we can't let our master down."
Little Bean, usually the most carefree and timid, gritted his teeth and darted to the front like a slippery little mudfish, his palms sweating so much that the gun barrel was soaked through.
These three first disciples, arranged in a triangular formation, defied the murderous aura that seemed to cleave people in two and were the first to brandish their spears.
With the three of them taking the lead, the disciples who had been stunned suddenly jolted awake, their inner fighting spirit roused, and they all blushed and gritted their teeth to follow.
At this critical moment.
Lu Cheng made a move.
Instead of criticizing his apprentices, he took an extremely slow, yet incredibly heavy, "stumbling step."
"Thump."
The wooden floorboards groaned.
Lu Cheng held the eighty-pound Overlord Spear upside down with one hand, his gaze slowly sweeping across the entire scene, finally landing on the group of trembling "Han soldiers".
He didn't use brute force, but instead slightly transformed the "Toad-Catching Force" within his body into a "Guiding Force".
"You cowards, how dare you block my way?!"
A sharp shout.
Lu Cheng suddenly snatched the Overlord Spear.
"call-!!!"
A sudden gust of wind rose from the ground; it was the fierce wind brought up by eighty pounds of pure iron cutting through the air.
The audience in the front row could even feel the chilly wind blowing in their faces, causing the flames of the gas lamps overhead to flicker wildly, sometimes bright and sometimes dim.
"kill!"
Lu Cheng's gun did not sweep towards his disciples, but rather grazed their scalps with an extremely precise arc.
The resulting wind pressure instantly shattered the disciples' fear and instead triggered their instinctive reactions as martial artists.
"block!"
Shunzi took the lead, and more than a dozen white waxwood spears instinctively rose up to meet the unstoppable spearhead.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
A series of rapid impacts rang out.
I didn't use any superhuman strength.
The moment Lu Cheng's spear made contact with the white wax spear, its powerful force, capable of splitting mountains and breaking rocks, instantly transformed into a gentle, yielding "neutralizing force."
What appeared to be an incomparably fierce shot was actually like a gust of wind brushing against a willow branch.
The dozen or so disciples felt a tremendous force pushing them backward, causing them to involuntarily take several steps back. Their formation instantly broke apart, but they were unharmed.
"pretty!!"
A deafening roar of applause erupted from the audience.
"This skill is amazing! It's effortless and graceful; that's true skill."
"That spear must have weighed at least several dozen pounds, but it felt like a wick in his hands. How much wrist strength must he have?"
The audience was watching the excitement, and the overwhelming power of the wind sweeping away fallen leaves.
But Master Ma, Mr. Cheng, and the other knowledgeable martial arts masters in the private rooms on the second floor felt their scalps tingle.
"It is easy to lift a light object as if it were heavy, but difficult to lift a heavy object as if it were light."
Mr. Cheng slapped his thigh, his beard trembling with excitement.
"To wield a real weapon weighing dozens of kilograms as if it were a paper prop, controlling it with effortless ease without causing the slightest harm—Boss Lu's skill has reached a state of perfection!"
The sound of gongs and drums suddenly changed from urgent to mournful.
"Sobbing"
Yang Baozhong's jinghu (a two-stringed bowed instrument used in Peking Opera) began to play.
The old rosewood jinghu that Lu Cheng had repaired was played by Yang Baozhong, producing a heart-wrenching piece called "Deep Night".
The music was mournful and plaintive, like the autumn wind on the banks of the Wujiang River, chilling the blood of heroes.
「大王一」」
-
A soft, poignant call came from the side of the screen.
The noise in the room instantly subsided.
Wearing a bright yellow fish-scale armor, a ruyi crown, and a cloak, Mei Lanfang moved lightly and gracefully onto the stage as if walking on clouds.
Yu Ji.
At that moment, no one in the audience thought it was a man in disguise.
That gentleness that seeped into her very bones, that beauty that reached its peak, yet also carried a fierce, almost indomitable spirit, made everyone hold their breath.
This demonstrates the skill of the foremost of the Four Great Dan (female impersonators).
Mei Lanfang walked to Lu Cheng's side, tilted his head slightly, and looked at the unshakeable overlord in front of him.
Their eyes met in mid-air.
One firm, one gentle.
One yin and one yang.
The murderous aura in Lu Cheng's eyes miraculously melted away when it met those eyes that were full of autumn water.
His straight, sword-like spine bent slightly.
The once invincible King Xiang Yu finally revealed his softest and most vulnerable side in front of the woman he loved.
"My concubine—"
Lu Cheng stretched out the hand that had just been able to easily snap someone's neck. It trembled and hovered in mid-air, wanting to touch it but not daring to.
That kind of tragic hero's downfall, that kind of helplessness in not being able to protect the one you love.
No exaggerated movements are needed.
With just that slightly hunched shoulder and that trembling fingertip.
In an instant, the atmosphere of the entire theater was dragged into an abyss.
"Oh my god!"
A wealthy woman in the front row covered her mouth, and tears instantly streamed down her face.
"This tyrant—it's so heartbreaking to see him like this."
Even in the private room on the second floor, the ruthless General Ma silently put down his cigar, his eyes becoming somewhat complicated, as if he was thinking of his brothers who had fought alongside him when he was conquering the world.
The grand spectacle has reached its climax.
[Sword Dance].
Mei Lanfang, holding a pair of mandarin duck swords in both hands, danced gracefully to the mournful strains of a Chu song.
The sword flashed like snow, and her figure moved like a willow.
That was his final swan song, composed to comfort the king.
Amidst this poignant sword dance, a faint sob suddenly rang out from the scene.
It was Abing!
The blind musician had somehow ended up sitting among the musicians, holding his old erhu, which he cherished as his life.
Although he had lost his sight, he still wears sunglasses now that he can see again.
That heart, hardened by chaos and suffering, saw the tragic end of heroes and the short-lived beauty of women more clearly than anyone else.
Yang Baozhong's jinghu (a two-stringed bowed instrument used in Peking Opera) has "bone"—clear, intense, and conveying a sense of unwillingness to give up.
Abing's erhu playing was "blood"—deep, mournful, and plaintive.
His calloused fingers rubbed, slid, hummed, and rubbed on the strings, producing melodies that were no longer just simple accompaniment.
Instead, it transformed into the mournful autumn wind on the banks of the Wujiang River, and into the wails of eight thousand Chu soldiers.
Two exquisite zithers played in harmony, their sounds intertwining and entwining, pushing the entire hall filled with the sounds of Chu songs to an extreme level that was utterly heart-wrenching.
The audience below the stage was already captivated by Lu Cheng's Overlord and Boss Mei's Consort Yu.
At this moment, when they were further propelled by Abing's erhu music, which seemed to tug at their hearts, they gasped in shock. Those with weaker willpower had tears streaming down their faces.
Lu Cheng sat on a grand chair on one side of the stage.
The 20-pound Overlord Helmet pressed down on his head, but he didn't budge.
He neither sang nor recited.
He simply stared intently at Yu Ji, who was dancing with a sword on the stage, with those eyes.
In those eyes, there was love, pain, resentment, and resolve.
His keen observation skills allowed him to capture every subtle movement of Mei Lanfang at that moment, and he could even feel Mei Lanfang's "theatrical soul" that he had devoted himself to to the extreme.
"This is a true star."
Lu Cheng sighed silently in his heart.
The vital energy within his body began to slowly settle along with the mournful sound of the zither.
He's making a plan.
It was brewing the final explosion of the Overlord.
"The Han army has already seized the land, and the Chu songs are heard on all sides."
"With the king's spirit broken, what reason is there for this lowly concubine to live!"
Mei Lanfang finished singing the last line.
A resolute glint flashed in those eyes, as clear as autumn water.
"Your Majesty, I am leaving!"
"Whoosh!"
A cold light flashed.
Without hesitation, Mei Lanfang drew his long sword and slashed it towards his own neck.
Of course, that was a prop sword, and it wasn't sharpened.
But the sheer brutality of that moment was incredibly realistic.
"My concubine—!!!"
In that very instant.
Lu Cheng made a move.
He didn't follow the traditional script; he simply sat in a chair and wailed.
His entire being, along with that heavy armchair.
"boom!"
It actually "exploded" right from the spot!
It's not about standing up.
It was that body's internal energy, which had reached the pinnacle of power, that suddenly erupted in the midst of extreme grief.
He kicked over the armchair, and the sturdy mahogany chair fell apart in mid-air, sending pieces of wood flying everywhere.
Like a wounded lone wolf, Lu Cheng pounced on Yu Ji, who was lying on the ground.
Clang!
He hurled the eighty-pound Overlord Spear to the ground, creating a deep crater.
He knelt on the ground, his hands loosely embracing the already "cold" body.
There was no loud crying.
There was no outburst of frustration or despair.
Lu Cheng simply raised his head slowly, very slowly.
On that black and white mask of the overlord, a single blood-red tear actually dripped from the corner of his eye.
That was a tear of blood that he forced out from the corner of his eye, a tear that he had forced out by reversing his blood and qi.
"ah!!!"
A roar, suppressed to the extreme and seemingly torn from the depths of his soul, rolled out from his throat.
That sound.
No internal energy was used.
No theatrical techniques were used.
It was simply the pure, desperate lament of a man who had lost everything.
"Boom!"
As Lu Cheng let out a blood-curdling roar, A Bing, who was providing accompaniment from the sidelines, trembled violently. His withered fingers twitched suddenly, and he broke a string on the erhu because he couldn't control his emotions.
The sound of the broken string was sharp and piercing, yet it aptly broke through the frozen air.
Ah Bing's face was covered in tears, which streamed down his crisscrossing wrinkles, but he did not stop.
With only the last string remaining, and with incredible fingering, a final note was produced, desperately supporting Lu Cheng's tragic and soaring spirit.
"Buzz—"
The entire Tianqiao Theater, with its more than three thousand people, was filled with goosebumps as the music and the mournful cries intertwined.
Quiet.
A deathly silence.
You could hear a pin drop.
No one cheered, and no one applauded.
Everyone was gripped by this intense, overwhelming sorrow, unable to breathe.
Jack, the reporter from Time magazine, held his camera, his finger frozen on the shutter button, and he forgot to press it.
His blue eyes were filled with tears of shock.
"Oh my God————"
He muttered to himself, "This—this isn't a performance, this is real history—"
More than a minute passed.
The curtain slowly closed in the deathly silence.
Until the red velvet curtain completely covered the person, the sword, and the "corpse".
Inside the theater, it was as if some kind of seal had been broken.
"boom!!!"
It was like a volcano that had been suppressed for thousands of years, suddenly erupting.
There was no applause.
Because everyone stood up.
They screamed at the top of their lungs, their eyes red and swollen.
"good!!!"
"Overlord!! Grandmaster Lu!!!"
"A masterpiece, a masterpiece for all time!"
Followed by.
"Splash splash ...
An unprecedented downpour began in the Tianqiao Theater.
That's not water.
That's a silver dollar!
Those are copper coins!
Those are a gold ring, a silver pocket watch, and a jade thumb ring!
The dignitaries in the private rooms on the second floor went completely mad.
General Ma ripped off the thick gold necklace from his neck and slammed it hard onto the stage.
"Reward him! Give him a hefty reward!"
"That's fucking acting! That's fucking manly!"
Those old-fashioned people who were usually stingy threw away their rings and banknotes.
The red carpet on the stage was instantly covered with a layer of silvery-white light.
This is hardly a tip.
This is clearly using money to vent the overwhelming emotions they feel from being so shocked.
Backstage.
The curtain had just closed.
Mei Lanfang quickly stood up from the ground.
Ignoring the mud on his clothes, he grabbed Lu Cheng's hand, his eyes, usually so full of grand occasions, now brimming with admiration.
-
"Boss Lu————"
Mei Lanfang's voice was trembling.
"Lanfang has sung opera for half her life, and today, it was you who led her into it."
"You, the tyrant, are unprecedented, and perhaps there will be no one like you in the future."
"Based on that single drop of blood and tears, the top spot in the Peking Opera world belongs to you alone!"
Lu Cheng slowly stood up.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced the surging blood and qi in his body back into his dantian.
That intense atmosphere of sorrow vanished without a trace in an instant.
He opened his eyes and transformed back into the composed and unflappable Master Lu.
"Mr. Mei, you flatter me."
Lu Cheng smiled slightly and reached out to remove the heavy, twenty-pound Overlord Helmet.
Finally, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
"Without your Consort Yu, I, the Overlord, would be nothing more than a brute wielding a spear. Even the most beautiful flower needs green leaves to set it off, and you, my green leaves, are even more beautiful than the flower itself."
The two looked at each other and laughed, everything understood without a word.
"Master!"
Shunzi and Lu Feng, along with a group of Qingyun Class disciples, rushed forward with red eyes.
"Master, your acting was superb."
"Everyone outside is going crazy! They're throwing money around like it's hail, and they're almost smashing the stage down!" Little Bean jumped and danced with excitement.
Lu Cheng patted them on the shoulder, his expression calm.
"Alright, stop making a fuss."
"Go and collect all the prize money on the stage."
"The rules remain the same."
As Lu Cheng removed the face paint, he gave the instructions in a calm tone.
"Thirty percent is reserved for the theater, and thirty percent is divided among our brothers in the troupe."
"The remaining 40% —"
He paused, looking at the face in the mirror that was gradually revealing its true form.
"Replace everything with seaweed and medicinal herbs."
"Half of them were sent to the orphanage in the south of the city."
"The other half, buy medicine for injuries and deliver it to the homes of the martial arts brothers who were injured while fighting against foreigners."
"Yes, Master!"
The apprentices all agreed, and none of them felt sorry for the situation.
She removed her makeup and changed into that familiar moon-white long gown.
Lu Cheng sat in the dressing room, drinking the herbal tea made with dried sea buckthorn that Shunzi handed him.
The commotion outside hadn't subsided yet, and many powerful figures sent people backstage, wanting to invite Lu Cheng and Boss Mei to a banquet.
Zhou Daikui blocked them all.
"Master Lu said he's tired today and doesn't want to see anyone."
It's only because of Lu Cheng; anyone else would dare to be so disrespectful.
But ironically, the more this was the case, the more those powerful and influential people felt that Lu Cheng was unfathomable and unapproachable.
"Knock knock knock".
There was a gentle knock on the door of the dressing room.
The knocking was very rhythmic, consisting of two long knocks followed by one short one.
This is a secret code used in the martial arts world for urgent communications.
Lu Cheng's eyes narrowed, and he put down his teacup.
"Enter."
The door was pushed open a crack, and a lean figure slipped in.
It is Li Wuye, also known as "Sai Shiqian".
This old thief wasn't wearing his night clothes today; instead, he was dressed as a cigarette vendor with a wooden box hanging around his neck.
But his lean face was now filled with anxiety and solemnity.
"Master Lu."
Li Wuye locked the door behind him and rushed to Lu Cheng's side, not even bothering to catch his breath.
"Something terrible has happened!"
"What's wrong? Why are you so flustered?" Lu Cheng frowned slightly.
Li Wuye, this seasoned veteran, wouldn't even flinch if Mount Tai collapsed before him. Anything that could make him panic like this must be no small matter.
Li Wuye swallowed.
"Master Lu, I've been keeping an eye on things in Tianjin all this time."
"There's been some progress on the matter you asked me to investigate."
"President Liu—and those senior figures in the Northern martial arts world—"
Li Wuye's voice was trembling.
"They were not placed under house arrest."
"They're not under house arrest?" Lu Cheng's eyes turned cold. "Then where are they?"
"At the Hongkou Dojo."
Li Wuye gritted his teeth, as if he had made a great decision before speaking.
"The Japanese set up a trap; it wasn't a martial arts exchange at all."
"They somehow got hold of a Western poison. It was colorless and odorless. After drinking it, the whole body would feel weak and powerless, and one would lose all internal strength, becoming like a cripple."
"President Liu and his team have been infected."
"They threatened—"
Li Wuye looked at Lu Cheng, his eyes reddening.
"They boasted that they would hold a public martial arts tournament in the Japanese concession square of Tianjin three days later."
"They want the whole world's reporters to see how a master of Chinese martial arts is beheaded like a pig or a dog by their warriors."
boom!
In the dressing room, it was as if a thunderclap had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
The rough porcelain teacup in Lu Cheng's hand.
With a "crack," it turned into a cloud of dust.
It wasn't crushed, but rather pulverized by a sudden, uncontrolled burst of internal energy within him.
Tea mixed with porcelain powder dripped down between my fingers.