SWDnovel Chapter 93 Lord Guan, riding alone in the inner city!
Chapter 93 Lord Guan, riding alone in the inner city!
Chapter 94 Lord Guan, Riding Alone for a Thousand Miles! (4k)
He recalled that day at the martial arts club, when Lu Cheng subdued the White Tiger Diagram with a single glance, and also the "Way of Sincerity" that could dodge bullets.
"If we're talking about skill level, you're naturally a cut above him."
Master Li spoke the truth, but his brows remained furrowed.
"But in a martial arts competition, especially against a Japanese person, there are too many variables."
"That's a life-or-death duel, there's no stopping short of defeat. Besides, the Japanese have a lot of dirty tricks up their sleeves, I heard they even have hidden weapons and poisons on hand."
"Master Lu, you are the porcelain, and he is the earthenware. If anything happens to you because of this pride, the backbone of the martial arts world in Beiping, which has just been established, will be—"
Uncle Li didn't elaborate, but his meaning was clear.
It's not worth it.
In the eyes of these seasoned veterans, as long as the green hills remain, there will always be firewood to burn.
Lu Cheng now has fame, money, and endless potential. He will almost certainly become a Grandmaster of Internal Energy in the future. Why should he risk his life against a desperate criminal?
"porcelain?"
Lu Cheng stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the old locust tree in the yard that was sprouting new buds.
"Master Li, you are mistaken."
"I, Lu Cheng, have never been a porcelain doll."
"I crawled out of the mud, and I'm also an earthenware pot."
"However, this earthenware pot of mine has been thoroughly heated in a fire."
Lu Cheng turned around, and an invisible pressure instantly spread out, making Li Sanye and Zhao Shanhe gasp for breath.
"Since this Japanese want to see blood, he wants to peel off our faces."
"Then I have to let them know."
"The face of Beiping is made of iron and stained with blood."
"Tear it off? We'll see if he has the teeth!"
Looking at Lu Cheng before him, Li Sanye felt as if he were seeing a fierce tiger perched atop a mountain, looking down at a jackal who was oblivious to its fate.
He sighed deeply, stood up, clasped his hands in a fist and bowed deeply.
"Since Master Lu has made up his mind, I will not try to persuade him any further."
"These past two days, I've had the Iron Fist Gym disciples keeping watch around the perimeter. If those bastards dare to play dirty tricks, you won't even need to lift a finger; I, Li Tieshou, will risk my old life to cripple a few of them first!"
This is a pledge of loyalty, and also a testament to brotherhood.
Lu Cheng smiled slightly and returned the greeting.
"Thank you, Third Master."
"The Qingyun Class will remember this favor."
After seeing off Master Li, it was getting late.
The aroma of food wafted from the backyard of the Lu residence.
The atmosphere at dinner tonight was a bit somber.
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Lu Laogen, dressed in a dark purple silk cotton-padded jacket, sat at the octagonal table, holding chopsticks in his hand, but did not pick up any food for a long time.
The tobacco pipe was placed aside, the fire long since extinguished.
Wang's eyes were red as she secretly wiped away tears while serving soup to her granddaughter, Lu Yun.
Even if their family tried to keep it from them, the elderly couple weren't deaf; they heard the rumors circulating outside to some extent.
What "life-or-death contract", what "Japanese demon sword", what "cut off heads and use them as footballs"?
These words terrified the elderly couple, making it impossible for them to sleep soundly.
"Chengzi—"
Lu Laogen finally couldn't hold back any longer, put down his chopsticks, and his voice trembled slightly.
"Father knows you're capable; you're a grandmaster, a great man."
"But—but they're Japanese."
"Dad heard people on the street say that the Japanese swords are very sharp, killing people like slicing melons."
"Can we...can we not go?"
"We're rich now, living in this big house, living like gods. But if—if anything happens to you, what good is all this wealth? How will your mother and I, these old bones, survive?"
As the old man spoke, tears welled up in his eyes.
He was terrified of poverty and hardship.
He was truly afraid that this storm would tear the family apart, since his son had finally become successful and life was better.
Wang was also sobbing beside him: "Yes, Chengzi, we don't care about that empty fame. We can go back to our hometown, or even go to Tianjin to hide away."
At the dinner table, Shunzi, Lu Feng, and their apprentices all lowered their heads, picking at the rice in their bowls, not daring to utter a sound.
Although they were burning with rage and wished they could risk their lives for their master, they knew the weight of their worry in front of the elderly couple.
Lu Cheng put down his chopsticks, and the coldness on his face when facing an enemy disappeared, replaced by a gentle smile.
He stood up, walked behind his parents, and gently massaged their shoulders.
"Father, Mother."
"You two are overthinking it."
"This is just a play, no different from the operas we usually perform in the theater."
"It's just that this time my partner is Japanese, so the drama is a bit more lively."
"Don't you know how capable your son is?"
As Lu Cheng spoke, he casually picked up a porcelain spoon from the table.
Pinch gently with two fingers.
"puff."
The hard porcelain spoon, as if made of flour, instantly turned into powder and fell down.
The elderly couple were completely stunned by this move.
"Look, your son's grip is much stronger than that Japanese sword."
"We'll see."
Lu Cheng squatted down, grasped his father's rough, large hands, and looked at him with a firm gaze.
"Dad, when you used to pull the cart, you suffered at the hands of those thugs and hooligans. Didn't you also hope that a hero would stand up and speak up for us poor people?"
"Now, these Japanese are bullying us right at our doorstep, pointing their fingers at us Chinese and calling us sick men."
"If your son doesn't go, people will poke his spine when he walks down the street."
"Our Lu family may have come from humble beginnings, but we can't be weak-willed."
Lu Laogen looked at his son.
He suddenly realized that the silly boy who used to follow him around begging for candy had really grown up.
Those broad shoulders and that resolute gaze were like a towering tree, sheltering this family and even the entire city of Beijing from the wind and rain.
An unprecedented sense of pride rose from the old man's withered chest.
He wiped away his tears and slammed his hand on the table.
"go!"
"Go to hell!"
"My son is a grandmaster, a shining example of Chinese martial arts!"
"Don't be afraid of those damn Japanese!"
"Chengzi, go ahead! Dad will warm up the celebratory wine for you at home!"
"If you win, Dad will personally go to Qianmen Street and set off ten thousand firecrackers!"
Although Wang was still wiping away tears, she nodded and put a large piece of braised pork on Lu Cheng's plate.
"Eat, eat more, you'll have the strength to fight when you're full."
Seeing the change in the two elders' attitude, Lu Cheng felt a warmth in his heart.
This is home.
No matter how big the storms outside, this will always be his strongest support.
"Have a meal!"
Lu Cheng waved his hand, and the atmosphere in the entire dining room instantly became lively.
After dinner, the training room in the backyard of the Lu residence was brightly lit.
The troupe leader, Zhou Daikui, and the old man in charge of the box, Lao Guan, were surrounding Lu Cheng, looking very nervous.
"Chengzi, now that you've accepted the challenge, what kind of 'show' are we going to put on?"
Zhou Daikui was holding a small notebook, calculating his outfit and the occasion.
This martial arts competition, nominally a "China-Japan Exchange Conference," took place on the stage of the Tianqiao Theater.
Since it's on stage, we have to pay attention to our "appearance".
You can't just go up and fight wearing a simple robe; that's undignified and lacks presence.
"The Japanese have sent a message."
Zhou Daikui looked at the notebook, his brows furrowed.
-
"That Chiba Zan said he wanted to wear Japanese samurai attire, and also wear something like a Hannya mask? He also wanted to have some Japanese priests perform rituals."
"They've made it all very mystical, saying they want to borrow the power of ghosts and gods."
"We can't afford to lose this battle!"
These days, even competitions require some packaging.
Especially on such a grand occasion concerning the national image, if we are dressed shabbily, we will lose half the battle in terms of momentum.
Lu Cheng sat in the chair, closing his eyes in deep thought.
he was thinking.
He was thinking about what role to use to suppress the evil aura of these Japanese devils.
Xiang Yu? He was certainly domineering, but he was a tragic hero, which is an unlucky omen.
Zhao Yun? He was a warrior, skilled in killing, but lacking in authority.
Sun Wukong? Too agile, he can't command the scene.
To suppress these demons and monsters, to make these Japanese people feel fear and awe from the bottom of their hearts...
We need to invite a real "god"!
A Chinese martial arts saint, a man of eternal loyalty and righteousness, a god whom even the Japanese must worship!
Lu Cheng suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils bursting with golden light.
"Tanker."
"Bring out that green brocade battle robe that's been kept hidden away."
"And that sword—the Green Dragon Crescent Blade."
Upon hearing this, Zhou Daikui's body jolted violently, and he almost dropped the pipe in his hand.
"Green brocade battle robe? Azure Dragon Blade?"
"Chengzi, you—you're going to play—Lord Guan?!"
In the world of Peking Opera, plays about Guan Gong are considered divine plays, also known as "Lord's plays".
Ordinary people wouldn't dare to perform that role; it's the pinnacle of the Hong Sheng (a type of male role in Peking Opera).
Because Lord Guan is a martial saint, he carries both a fierce aura and a divine presence. To portray him poorly would be blasphemy against the gods, shortening one's lifespan, or even bringing misfortune upon oneself.
"Master, I understand the rules of this opera."
Lu Cheng stood up with a solemn expression. His lazy demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by an imposing presence that made people afraid to look him in the eye.
"From this day forward, I will be in seclusion," which is known in slang as fasting or abstinence.
"An altar must be set up backstage to enshrine the image of Guan Yu, the God of War. The incense must not be extinguished, and the red candles must not be put out."
"For the next three days, I will not receive guests, engage in idle chatter, or be near women."
"Especially women."
Lu Cheng looked at Zhou Daikui, his tone stern.
"This is a strictly forbidden area. For the next three days, no woman is allowed to enter. Not even Qinglian and Hongyu. That would break the pure yang energy—it's a grave taboo!"
Old Guan listened attentively, nodding repeatedly, his expression becoming solemn.
"Master Lu is right, that's the old rule. When playing a lord, you have to see yourself as the real Lord Guan."
Once your face is painted, you can't speak, because at that moment you are a god, and gods don't chat with mortals.
Zhou Daikui took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, saying, "Fine, since you're going to invite the gods, then let's make a grand show of it!"
"I'll go and get the best makeup artist right away to draw that red all over your face."
"We must truly bring the divine power of Lord Guan to this Tianqiao Bridge."
"right."
Lu Cheng's gaze was like lightning.
"I want to act in 'Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles'."
"I want to be like Guan Yu, who passed five passes and slew six generals."
"Isn't Chiba-zan known as the One-Sword Style?"
"Then I'll show him what the Spring and Autumn Sword Technique is, and what the 'Dragging Sword Technique' is."
"Good! Good! Good!"
Ah Bing, who had been silent the whole time, suddenly slapped his thigh, his face flushed with excitement.
"Lord Guan slayed Yan Liang and Wen Chou; what a magnificent sight that was!"
"These Japanese devils are the kind of people who sell their heads for profit."
"Mr. Lu, I'll provide the background music for this play."
"I'm not using the erhu anymore, I'm using—the big drum!"
"I'll unleash the same ferocity as Guan Yu, who famously killed Hua Xiong while the wine was still warm!"
Now that it's decided, the whole class will be mobilized.
This was not just a martial arts competition, but a grand ceremony for the Qingyun Troupe to demonstrate its strength to the whole of Beiping and even the whole of China. It was also a sacrificial ceremony concerning the fate of the nation and the spirit of the people.
The next two days.
Lu Cheng closed his doors to visitors.
He was fasting.
It's not that he doesn't eat meat, but that he doesn't crave meat, doesn't concern himself with worldly affairs, and even speaks very little.
He locked himself in his study, spending all his time looking at the painting of Zhong Kui catching ghosts and the image of the White Tiger patrolling the mountain in his mind.
But this time, he will also be worshipping another god in his heart.
He had a bronze statue of Guan Yu brought in and placed it in the center of his desk.
He is cultivating his "spirit".
The spirit of Guan Yu is "righteousness", "arrogance", and a disdainful disdain for everything. It is the absolute confidence that makes him seem like a nobody.
This has a natural fit with the "True Dragon Purple Qi" and "White Tiger True Meaning" in Lu Cheng's body.
The White Tiger represents killing, the True Dragon represents might, and Guan Yu represents righteousness.
He wanted to perfectly blend these three artistic conceptions together.
Transform yourself completely into that Martial Saint—with phoenix eyes, silkworm eyebrows, and a face like a red date!
The preparations behind the scenes were meticulous, exuding a sacred sense of ritual.
Zhou Daikui brought out his ancestral Guan Gong costume.
That was a treasure that was usually locked at the bottom of a camphor wood chest, and it was only taken out to air it on the 24th of June each year, the birthday of Guan Yu.
It was a dark green soft cushion, embroidered with a dragon in gold thread. The scales gleamed coldly under the light, and the workmanship was extremely exquisite.
Accompanying these are a scholar's helmet, a green dragon robe, and a breastplate.
The most crucial thing is that knife.
Green Dragon Crescent Blade!
This knife is neither a wooden prop from a stage nor a flimsy piece of tin.
It was a genuine item that Zhou Daikui's master acquired from a fallen martial arts graduate.
Made of wrought iron, the handle is as thick as a duck egg, and the blade is very sharp. It is usually wrapped in oilcloth and tied with red silk to the tip of the blade to prevent its malevolent energy from harming people.
"Chengzi, this knife—it's too heavy."
Old Guan carefully wiped the anti-rust oil off his broadsword, while looking somewhat worried.
"Eighty-two pounds! If this were to happen on stage, and they were to actually fight the Japanese—could they handle the stamina?"
"Ordinary martial arts actors playing Guan Yu use props weighing over ten kilograms, just for show. But this is the real deal—"
Lu Cheng walked over.
He didn't take the knife directly, but first washed his hands in the basin of water next to him, and then bowed three times to the statue of Guan Yu.
Then, he grabbed the knife handle with one hand.
The muscles on his arms were slightly bulging, and the veins were like dragons.
"Buzz!"
He flicked his wrist.
The eighty-two-pound broadsword was like a straw in his hands, lightly tracing an arc as the blade sliced through the air, creating a sharp, dragon-like roar in the wind.
The chilling air made the temperature in the entire backstage area seem to drop several degrees.
"It won't sink."
Lu Cheng said calmly, his gaze fixed on the cold glint of the blade.
"Too light, it doesn't feel right when killing."
"This weight is just right to chop off the heads of those Japanese devils."