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

Chapter 197 Ancient Terrace Kills the Enemy

Thunder and rain raged at the ancient Hanshan Terrace.

The ancient stage of the City God Temple, which has been abandoned for countless years, has had half of its glazed tiles collapsed, and the several thick vermilion pillars have been eroded by wind and rain, leaving them mottled and fragmented.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock—"

Rainwater cascaded down the broken eaves, crashing onto the moss-covered platform and shattering into white foam.

Lu Cheng stepped onto the ancient stage, one step at a time.

"Thump"

"Thump"

At first, the sound was faint, like distant rumbling thunder.

But as Lu Cheng walked to the "Nine Dragon Mouth" in the center of the stage and stood still, his footsteps strangely overlapped perfectly with the rolling spring thunder from the sky.

Thunderclaps serve as drums, and treadmills as levers.

Lu Cheng's gray-blue robe fluttered in the strong wind as he slowly placed his right hand, which had been behind his back, on the hilt of the Tang Dynasty horizontal sword wrapped in black cloth at his waist—the [Po Lu] sword.

"You pretentious Chinese pig, chop him into mincemeat!"

The Japanese leader in the audience sensed something was wrong; the heavy footsteps made him restless and his chest feel tight.

He dared not wait any longer and, with a hoarse scream, swung down the katana in his hand.

"Swish, swish, swish!"

A dozen or so assassins in black, wading through the muddy puddles, leaped onto the three-foot-high ancient stage from all directions like a pack of bloodthirsty hyenas.

The gleaming samurai sword tore through the heavy rain, descending upon them.

Inside the main hall of the dilapidated temple.

"Master Lu, be careful!" Liang Hongyu cried out instinctively, clutching her bleeding left shoulder.

She had just been caught in a strangulation formation specifically designed to target internal martial arts, and knew all too well how terrifying these Japanese assassins were.

That wasn't just random slashing; it was a deadly formation where the energy of the attacks were interconnected. Once you fell into the net, it was like sinking into a quagmire, with no chance of survival.

However, Mr. Liang, who was standing next to her, had his murky, ancient well-like eyes wide open at that moment.

"Girl, shut up—watch the show."

On the stage.

Faced with the dozen or so deadly steel blades falling in a chaotic barrage.

Lu Cheng's slightly lowered eyelids finally lifted slowly.

The exquisite mind sees that the five aggregates are empty, and the discerning eyes see through the trajectory of every raindrop in the rain.

"My play can't be performed well without some serious equipment."

next moment.

"Clang!"

A thunderous roar, capable of piercing the clouds and splitting rocks, resounded amidst the torrential rain.

That wasn't an ordinary sword draw.

The jade-colored "fake core" inside Lu Cheng's body suddenly spun around, and a surge of [Half-Step Core Formation] energy flowed down his arm and into the [Breaking the Enemy] Ancient Blade.

The coarse black cloth wrapped around the scabbard was reduced to dust with a "bang" under the influence of this terrifying aura.

The sword is drawn!

A snow-white blade of light, more ferocious and dazzling than lightning in the sky, burst through the shackles of the rain curtain like a raging dragon imprisoned for a hundred years.

"A sudden gust of wind rises."

Lu Cheng uttered four words softly.

In Peking Opera, "Jijifeng" is a drum and gong rhythm used when a general charges into battle and fights fiercely. It emphasizes "urgency", "density" and "intenseness".

There was no drummer, no zither player.

Lu Cheng thoroughly incorporated this "swift wind" rhythm into his swordsmanship and movements.

"Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!"

Lu Cheng did not retreat a single step. He stepped on the most iconic "circular step" of Peking Opera martial arts actors, his figure like a lotus flower spinning on the tip of a knife.

The ancient sword in his hand, "Broken Barbarian," transformed into countless afterimages.

This vicious weapon, which had once drunk the blood of Japanese pirates, was completely awakened under the stimulation of Lu Cheng's [True Intent of the White Tiger].

The blades clashed with the samurai sword, producing a series of rhythmic "clang, zai, clang, zai" sounds.

This is hardly a battle.

This was clearly an unparalleled solo dance that perfectly blended killing techniques with theatrical aesthetics.

"Pfft."

Lu Cheng shifted his body slightly to the side, and the blade slid into the gap in the rain with an arc resembling that of an antelope's horns.

A fine head flew into the air, and the blood gushing from the neck was violently shaken off by the invisible protective aura surrounding Lu Cheng before it could even splatter onto his clothes.

Lu Cheng flicked his wrist, and the back of the ancient sword gently patted an assassin's chest.

Tai Chi combines the "stomping foot" with the "explosive force" of Xingyi.

"boom."

Before the assassin could even scream, his chest caved in, and he was sent flying like a cannonball, crashing into a wooden pillar at the edge of the stage before rolling into the mud and falling silent.

"this----"

The Japanese leader in the audience was terrified; his hand holding the knife trembled violently.

The killing formations they had painstakingly researched over decades were nothing more than child's play compared to this scholar in blue robes.

The other side wasn't even using their full strength; they were just using their heads to "beat the drums"!

Inside the main hall.

Liang Hongyu was completely stunned.

Her proud Wing Chun Eight-Cut Sword was worlds apart from the young man on the stage who casually reaped lives.

"Master—how did he do that? Those knives clearly blocked his escape route, how could he still—" Liang Hongyu's voice trembled.

"Because he doesn't treat them like human beings at all."

He took the raging wind and rain as a sign of life, and the attacks of the assassins as the starting point of a gong.

"This is the prototype of 'harmony between man and nature.' He is leveraging the power of heaven and earth to express the Tao in his heart," Mr. Liang remarked with emotion.

Just then.

Unexpected changes occurred on the stage.

"Baka, prepare to die!"

The two Japanese martial arts masters, who had been hiding in the shadows and had been hesitant to make their move, finally couldn't hold back any longer.

They were like two venomous snakes lurking in the mud, taking advantage of the moment when Lu Cheng's old strength had dissipated and his new strength had not yet arisen after slicing away an assassin with a single blow.

"Whoosh, whoosh!"

Two eerie black afterimages suddenly tumbled down from the broken ceiling hole above the stage.

There was not a sound of wind, and even the trajectory of the falling rain was forcibly distorted by the chilling energy emanating from them.

Two short blades coated with a deadly poison, one on the left and one on the right, were aimed at Lu Cheng's temple and the fatal acupoint in the back of his heart, respectively.

The timing was so ruthless, and the angle so cunning, it was a decisive blow.

"Master Lu, watch out! Above your head!"

Mr. Liang Ting spoke up to remind him.

But the two were too fast; the assassination of a master of internal energy was like a thunderclap within three steps.

However, Lu Cheng, who was at the center of the decisive moment, had a hint of sarcasm on his lips.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time."

Just as those two poisoned short blades were less than an inch from his skin...

"Croak!"

A deep, muffled croak, as if capable of shattering one's soul, suddenly exploded from the depths of Lu Cheng's abdomen.

【Fishing for the Toad】Drive with all your might.

The jade-colored fake pill in his dantian spun wildly, and a terrifying aura far exceeding that of a normal Great Perfection Realm cultivator shot out from every pore of Lu Cheng's body.

"Buzz"

The two Japanese martial arts masters felt a "buzz" in their ears, as if their brains had been hit hard by a heavy hammer.

When their thrusting short blades came into contact with the near-solidified protective aura, it was as if they had pierced into an indestructible steel plate, unable to advance even an inch further.

"How is this possible?!" The two grandmasters were utterly shocked.

"You're surprised?"

Lu Cheng did not turn around.

He gripped the knife in his right hand and held his left hand with fingers pointing like a sword. In the nick of time, he suddenly bent backward at an angle that defied the limits of human physiology.

The ultimate martial arts skill of Peking Opera actors—the Iron Bridge!

"brush!"

Two short blades grazed the tip of his nose.

Lu Cheng's left hand, with two fingers, struck the Tanzhong acupoint on the master's left side with lightning speed.

"puff."

A scorching and domineering burst of internal energy pierced through his finger, instantly causing a cloud of blood mist to explode from the master's chest. He was sent flying into the air like a shattered sack.

At the same time, Lu Cheng's right hand held the [Breaking the Enemy] Blade, drawing a crescent-shaped arc in mid-air.

"choke."

The grandmaster on the right didn't even have time to see the trajectory of the blade before he felt a chill on his neck.

As the world spun, he saw his own headless body, spurting blood, falling heavily from mid-air on the stage.

One finger, one knife.

Instantly killed two Grandmaster-level experts!

This is the absolute crushing power of a half-step Dan-emerging master; this is a killing technique honed through countless trials.

"Clang!"

The mutilated corpse crashed onto the wooden planks of the stage.

The remaining dozen or so Japanese assassins were now completely terrified.

They stared blankly at the scholar in blue robes standing in the pool of blood, his white shirt still spotless, the knife in his hand clattering to the ground.

"Devil—run! Run!"

These ruthless criminals, who usually killed without blinking an eye, were now screaming and trying to jump off the stage to escape as if they had seen a ghost.

"The show isn't over yet, where do you want to go?"

Lu Cheng slowly straightened up, his [Breaking the Enemy] sword pointing diagonally at the ground.

He looked up at the rolling thunderclouds in the sky.

"Boom!"

A pale white lightning bolt tore through the night sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder.

Lu Cheng's figure vanished completely from the spot in the instant the lightning flashed.

"Swish, swish, swish, swish."

On the stage, only dreamlike, ethereal blue afterimages remained, accompanied by mournful screams.

No one could escape this ancient stage.

As the last echo of thunder faded into the deep mountains.

The torrential rain continues.

But the killings on the ancient stage have ceased.

Lu Cheng stood quietly at the "Nine Dragons Mouth" location.

At his feet lay the corpses of more than thirty Japanese assassins, their blood mixed with rainwater, flowing down the edge of the stage like a small waterfall, staining the bluestone slabs below in a shocking way.

"choke."

Lu Cheng took out a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped the bloodstains off the blade of the [Breaking the Enemy] sword.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he threw the handkerchief into the blood.

He sheathed his sword.

The entire process was so quiet it was almost suffocating.

The Japanese leader below the stage had already gone weak in the knees and knelt down in the mud with a "plop," a foul stench emanating from his crotch.

He didn't even have the courage to run away.

He watched helplessly as the elite troops he had brought were slaughtered like wheat in less than half an incense stick's time.

Lu Cheng caught a drop of rain and flicked it out with his finger. A bloody hole appeared between the eyebrows of the Japanese leader, who collapsed into the rain.

He then turned around and, through the torrential rain, looked at Liang Ting and his disciple Liang Hongyu inside the dilapidated temple hall.

"Mr. Liang."

Lu Cheng's voice pierced through the rain, calm and gentle, as if the one-sided massacre had never happened.

"These flies are making a racket and disturbing the old gentleman's peace and quiet. I, Lu, am here to apologize to you."

After saying that, he slightly cupped his hands in greeting.

Inside the dilapidated temple.

Mr. Liang Ting stood there in a daze for more than ten breaths before he suddenly came to his senses.

He did not accept the greeting, but instead rushed out of the main hall and braved the torrential rain to reach the area below the stage.

This is the leading figure of Southern Wing Chun, this old master who is over seventy years old and has been stuck at the Great Perfection of Transformation for a full ten years.

Sudden.

With a "plop".

He knelt on one knee on the bluestone slab that was covered in blood and mud.

"Master!" Liang Hongyu exclaimed in alarm and rushed into the rain to help him.

"Step back." Liang Ting flung his disciple's hand away.

He looked up at the young man on the high platform, whose face was weathered and wet with rain, tears streaming down his face, yet he laughed with unbridled joy.

"If I hear the Way in the morning, I can die content in the evening—If I hear the Way in the morning, I can die content in the evening."

Liang Ting's voice was hoarse.

"I have been trapped in this city of sorrow for ten years, always thinking that the energy of heaven and earth has been exhausted and the path of martial arts has been cut off. Every day I am like a frog at the bottom of a well, sitting in the well and looking at the sky."

"Today, witnessing Master Lu's perfect harmony with heaven and man in this demon-slaying strike, I realize that the path is not severed. It's not that the world has lost its vitality, but rather that my heart has been too narrow!"

"Master Lu's brief encounter over half a day—a bowl of hot tea, a wonderful performance—has awakened me from the confusion of the past ten years."

"I will never forget your great kindness, Liang Ting."

With this fist salute.

Suddenly, a series of cracking sounds came from inside Mr. Liang Ting's body.

"Pili pala".

Beneath the originally withered skin and flesh, a surge of vital energy that had been dormant for ten years suddenly revived, like a withered tree blossoming in spring.

Two piercing beams of light shot from his cloudy eyes.

The rain around him was forced back half a foot by an invisible force at that moment.

Liang Hongyu was stunned, covered her mouth, and tears streamed down her face.

She knew what this meant.

The master's inner conflict has been resolved.

The ice that had plagued the Southern martial arts world for ten years has melted.

Master, we have finally reached that unspeakable threshold.

On the stage.

Lu Cheng looked at the old man who had suddenly attained enlightenment in the mud and water, a smile flashing in his eyes.

"The world's martial arts traditions are divided into Southern Fist and Northern Leg. The Southern School is fortunate to have a senior like Master Liang presiding over it."

Lu Cheng raised his hand slightly, and a gentle surge of internal energy lifted up Mr. Liang.

"Now that the senior has broken through the barrier, the wind and rain of Jiangnan can no longer touch the bones of the Southern School."

Lu Cheng slowly walked off the stage and came to the Japanese man who had already collapsed into a limp mess.

He looked down at the other person.

"Go back and tell your Special Higher Police in Nanjing, and that traitor surnamed Song."

"Take me, Lu Cheng, for example. Now that I've come down to Jiangnan..."

"I will personally collect all the debts in Jinling City, one by one."

"roll."

A single word, and it's like a pardon.

The Japanese man stumbled and scrambled into the dark forest, like a stray dog.

Lu Cheng didn't chase after him. He turned around and reopened the old oil-paper umbrella that was placed by the door.

"Mr. Liang, Miss Liang."

Lu Cheng nodded slightly.

"The rain hasn't stopped, and I have some mundane matters to attend to, so I'll take my leave now."

"Master Lu, please wait!"

Liang Hongyu suddenly spoke, biting her lip, looking at the young man who was only a few years older than her but had already stood at the pinnacle of martial arts with a complicated expression.

She took a deep breath, suddenly knelt on one knee, and performed the most solemn martial arts salute.

"Master Lu, I was blind before and offended you greatly. Today, having seen the true Buddha, I realize how high the sky is and how thick the earth is."

"Hongyu wants to ask Master Lu for a favor."

"What is it?" Lu Cheng paused.

"Nanjing is a den of dragons and tigers, and the Song Mansion is heavily guarded. You are venturing into danger alone—"

Liang Hongyu raised her head, her eyes revealing a resolute determination.

"Although our Southern School is confined to a corner of the country, our burning passion to expel foreign invaders has never cooled. Hongyu is willing to lead the Southern School's hidden outposts in Jinling as Grandmaster Lu's 'vanguard,' drawing away external firepower!"

Lu Cheng looked at the spirited and vigorous woman from Jiangnan and smiled slightly.

"I appreciate your kind offer."

"However, I can handle this situation in Jinling by myself."

"Keep your Southern School's seeds alive so you can kill more real foreign enemies on the battlefield in the future."

Having said that, Lu Cheng did not linger.

Holding that dim yellow oil-paper umbrella, I stepped into the rainy night.

The bluish-gray figure gradually melted into the continuous misty rain of Jiangnan, leaving only a faint chant that lingered in the air above the ancient Hanshan Terrace.

"Let life take its course, like a straw raincoat in the misty rain."

Two days later.

Nanjing, the ancient capital of six dynasties.

In the past few days, the number of military police patrolling the streets of Nanjing has doubled, and martial law has been directly imposed in the Xuanwu Lake area where the Song Mansion is located.

All of this stemmed from a single sentence brought back by the terrified Japanese man who had fled from the water towns of Jiangnan.

Lu Cheng has arrived.

The inner hall of the Song Mansion.

Song Peilun's eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep.

"Have the three patriarchs of the Bajiquan sect arrived yet? Have the masters of the National Martial Arts Academy set up their formations?"

He grabbed his adjutant by the collar and roared hysterically.

"Minister—Minister, the three patriarchs have been invited. They are personally overseeing the inner hall, and the thirty-six Eight Extremes Death Warriors have already set up the 'Eight Extremes Dragon Locking Formation' in the courtyard," the adjutant replied tremblingly.

"well."

Song Peilun released his grip, panting heavily.

"Even if he's a god, he won't leave my Song mansion alive. I'll riddle him with bullets, I'll tear him to pieces, to appease my son's spirit in heaven!"

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