Republic of China era: Actor? Please call me Martial Arts Master!

Chapter 17: Only Top Scholar Disciples, No Top Scholar Masters

"Buzz!"

The gun barrel trembled.

Lu Cheng flicked his wrist.

The spear tip, like a venomous snake spitting its tongue, instantly produced three spear flowers.

These spear blossoms were no joke; each one carried a sharp whistling sound as if it were tearing through the air.

Snapped!Snapped!Snapped!

Three crisp sounds rang out in a single line.

A few snowflakes falling from the sky were precisely hit by the rapidly shaking tip of the gun.

The snowflakes did not break.

Instead, it seemed to be drawn to the tip of the spear by a gentle internal force, rotating along with the spear's body.

This is called "stickiness".

It is a manifestation of the perfect balance of softness and hardness when internal martial arts are practiced to a high level.

If it were only about strength, these snowflakes would have turned into water vapor long ago.

If it only has soft power, the tip of the spear cannot break through the wind and snow.

"What a fine Zhao Zilong!"

Lu Cheng felt his blood surging through his body, and the power that had been suppressed in his bone marrow was bursting out wildly.

He could feel it clearly.

My own spine is burning hot.

Every joint was pulsating, like a python awakening behind him.

The "Tiger and Leopard Thunder Sound" technique not only trains the internal organs but also tempers the muscles and bones through high-frequency vibrations.

That thin veil separating "whole strength" from "manifest strength".

At this moment, it becomes incredibly thin.

It was just a hair's breadth away.

Just one step away from mastering the technique, he could hone his strength to perfection, making it explosive and powerful.

"roar……"

Lu Cheng's chest trembled, and the thunderous sound echoed in the quiet courtyard.

The gun in his hand moved faster and faster until the gun itself was no longer visible; all that could be seen was a ball of white light enveloping him.

Snowstorms and winds keep us out!

The falling snowflakes, when they came within three feet of his body, were stirred up by the gust of wind from the gun, forming a vacuum circle.

If a martial arts master who knows guns saw this, he would definitely have to give it a thumbs up.

This is called "water cannot be poured in"!

He became a professional marksman.

……

Through the crack in the backstage door.

A pair of dark, bright eyes were fixed intently on the scene in the courtyard.

It's that little apprentice named Xiaodouzi.

He had gotten up to urinate at night, but upon hearing the noise, he couldn't resist taking a sneak peek out of curiosity.

Once he saw it, he couldn't move.

Although he didn't understand the concepts of "manifest strength" and "hidden strength," he could see what "beauty" and "strength" meant.

That figure wielding a gun in the snow was so beautiful.

The tip of that spear wasn't holding snowflakes, it was starlight!

Little Bean felt his heart pounding, and all the blood rushing to his head.

He used to think that practicing martial arts was hard.

Every morning, we had to get up early to practice our vocal cords, stretch our legs, do handstands, and endure being hit with a cane by our master.

He was always thinking about slacking off and just getting by.

But now, looking at Lu Cheng, who is already a star, practicing so hard alone in the snow in this freezing weather.

The sweat trickled down Lu Cheng's forehead, turning into white vapor before it even hit the ground.

That's a "steamer head"!

According to the older generation, only those who have practiced their skills to the extreme will have white smoke rising from their heads.

"Even Cheng-ye is already so skilled, he still trains like this..."

Little Bean clenched her little fists, which were red from the cold, until her nails dug into her flesh.

"I want to practice too."

"I want to be like Mr. Cheng; even if I don't become a star, I want to be a true man!"

A seed of admiration was planted and sprouted in the heart of this young child.

yard.

Lu Cheng seemed to sense something.

He abruptly holstered his gun.

"Snapped!"

The large spear was slung behind his back, its tip pointing skyward, and he remained motionless.

Calm and composed.

"Come out, don't get cold."

Lu Cheng didn't even turn his head, and said calmly.

Little Bean was startled and quickly pushed open the door, shivering as she came out, her little face red from the cold, whether from the cold or excitement, it was hard to tell.

"Master Cheng... I didn't mean to peek."

Lu Cheng turned around and looked at the thin, withered child.

He didn't blame him; instead, he waved.

"come over."

Little Bean walked over cautiously.

Lu Cheng reached out and draped his thick cotton robe, still warm from his body, over Xiao Douzi.

A wave of warmth instantly enveloped the little bean.

"Did you understand?"

Lu Cheng asked.

Little Bean shook his head, then nodded, and finally said honestly:

"I didn't understand the moves, it was too fast. But...it seemed really powerful and impressive!"

Lu Cheng smiled and patted Xiaodouzi's bald head.

"Prestige is earned through hard work."

"In this world, there are only top-scoring students, not top-scoring masters."

"If you want to be powerful, you have to endure hardship."

As he spoke, Lu Cheng handed over the large gun in his hand.

"Touch."

Little Bean cautiously reached out and touched the cold gun barrel.

The warmth of Lu Cheng's hand and an indescribable tremor still lingered on it.

"Alright, go back to sleep."

Lu Cheng put away his gun. "Don't be late tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Mr. Cheng!"

Little Bean answered loudly, wrapped the cotton robe, which was too big for him, tighter around himself, and ran back into the house.

He vowed that he would be the first to get up and practice his voice tomorrow.

As Lu Cheng watched Xiaodouzi's retreating figure, the smile on his lips deepened.

This Qingyun Class needs fresh blood.

My skills need to be passed on.

This child has bright, clear eyes; he's a promising talent.

……

The next day, in the evening.

Even before the Deyun Tea Garden performance started, the entrance was already packed with people.

The large red sign that read "[Zhao Zilong - Lu Cheng]" hung high, fluttering in the wind.

"Here he comes! Boss Lu is playing Zhao Yun today!"

"Goodness, Lin Chong the day before yesterday, Tiger yesterday, and Zhao Yun today? That's quite a leap."

"What's so special about that? Boss Lu is a man of both literary and martial talents. The other day he broke a cup with one finger at Tongheju Restaurant; that was real skill!"

"Let's go, let's go, hurry up and buy tickets, or we won't even have standing tickets left."

Among the crowd were not only veteran opera enthusiasts, but also many practitioners dressed in shorts, and even a few reporters in Western suits, holding large cameras with flashlights.

They all came because of "Master Lu's" reputation.

I want to see who this newcomer who terrified the Qinghe Troupe really is.

Backstage.

Lu Cheng had already put on a mask.

A handsome man, a great martial artist.

His two sword-like eyebrows slanted upwards towards his temples, and his eyes were bright and piercing.

He was dressed in a snow-white cloak with four protective flags on his back and carried a bright silver spear lacquered in silver.

His appearance, with its sheer energy and spirit, left everyone backstage speechless.

This is Zhao Zilong.

This is Zhao Zilong of Changshan, the one in white robes and wielding a silver spear, a man of unparalleled courage!

"Chengzi, are you ready?"

Zhou Daikui nervously rubbed his hands together. "Today it's packed to the brim, even the aisles are full of people."

"Even reporters from those major newspapers came, saying they wanted to write an exclusive interview with you."

"Don't worry, troupe leader."

Lu Cheng tightened his belt, feeling the "vitality" he had cultivated the night before eager to be unleashed.

"Today, at Changban Slope."

"I'll level it!"

"when--!"

The opening drums sounded.

The curtain rises.

Lu Cheng walked steadily to the center of the stage.

There were no unnecessary movements.

It's just a "starter".

He straightened his crown, trimmed his beard, lifted his nails, and gleamed his boots.

This set of movements was performed with the fluidity of flowing water, clean and efficient to the extreme.

Especially those eyes.

When he looked down at the audience, his dignified presence as a scholar-general and his decisive and ruthless aura instantly captivated the entire room.

"good!!!"

What a stroke of luck!

Before the concert even started, the audience went wild just from that one appearance.

Those in the know understand that this is called "having a knack for acting".