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

Chapter 201 Mr. Liang has arrived

"Rumble—"

The three patriarchs of the Bajiquan sect withstood this sonic attack that was enough to shatter the courage of ordinary people.

Although their eardrums were stinging and their blood was churning, they were, after all, ancient monsters who had reached the threshold of the Elixir Realm.

"You brat, stop your arrogance!"

The main vein master's eyes were bloodshot, and the white hairs on his head, as white as silver needles, stood up in the wind and rain.

He stomped his foot hard, and the bluestone slab beneath his feet cracked into dust with a "crack," splashing mud and water everywhere.

"Junior brothers, stop holding back! This child is not human! Everything is for China!" the Grand Master roared fiercely.

Upon hearing this, the Second and Third Masters did not hesitate at all.

The three figures intertwined, like an ancient ferocious beast with six arms, once again locking Lu Cheng firmly within the array's core.

This time, they were serious.

Bajiquan was originally a killing technique derived from battlefield combat.

These three old men have practiced for sixty years, and the "hardness, ferocity, and explosiveness" of this boxing style have long been ingrained in their bones.

The three of them were connected by their energies, which was no longer a simple addition of one plus one plus one. Instead, it sucked all the air out of the courtyard, forming a suffocating cage of qi.

"kill."

The Grand Master unleashed a "Three-Point Hand of Yama" aimed directly at Lu Cheng's upper, middle, and lower body, creating a visible vacuum channel in the rain.

The second and third line masters attacked from both sides like iron clamps.

"Standing Cannon" and "Tiger Climbing the Mountain"—each move targets Lu Cheng's Achilles' heel.

Lu Cheng stood there, his long, gray-blue robe fluttering in the wind.

He was not arrogant.

With his exquisite mind, he saw that the five aggregates were empty, and amidst the fierce and torrential attacks, his hands reached out like butterflies flitting among flowers.

With a Tai Chi Cloud Hands motion in his left hand, the smooth and flawless "false elixir" force deflected the Second Master's Heavenly Cannon by half an inch.

With his right hand, his fingers were joined together like a sword, unleashing the inch-force of Xingyi's "Drill Fist," striking the wrist acupoint of the Three Meridians Master with a "bang," knocking him back.

However, the cultivation level of the Grand Master was simply too high.

This old monster, who was almost on the same level as Lu Cheng, took advantage of the moment when Lu Cheng's old strength had just dissipated and new strength had not yet been generated after neutralizing the attacks from both sides. His shoulder suddenly sank, and the great dragon of his spine let out a deafening roar.

The ultimate move from Bajiquan—[Mountain-Leaning Strike]!

This leaning motion, imbued with nearly a century's worth of cultivation from the Grand Lineage Master, resembled a real Mount Tai collapsing.

"Bang!!"

Lu Cheng had no way to avoid it, so he could only cross his arms in front of his chest and use his half-step Dan-embracing Qi to withstand the attack.

A loud bang.

Lu Cheng felt a numbness in his arms, and his black cloth shoes with thick soles slid backward three feet on the bluestone slab, leaving two deep water marks.

A surge of blood and qi welled up in my chest.

"Such a solid foundation." A hint of seriousness flashed in Lu Cheng's eyes.

Although the blood and qi of this great lineage master were depleted, the pure martial arts essence that had been honed over the years was like aged wine, becoming more and more mellow.

If it were a one-on-one fight, Lu Cheng was confident he could defeat him within a hundred moves.

However, with the addition of two other junior brothers who were willing to risk their lives to assist from the sidelines, this "Eight Extremes Dragon Slaying Formation" indeed became a tough nut to crack.

"Boy, this fake elixir you obtained through initiation is ultimately like water without a source!"

The Grand Master saw Lu Cheng retreat and his eyes lit up with wild joy.

Thinking they had found Lu Cheng's weakness, they pounced on him again.

At this critical moment.

"Whoosh—"

In the rainy night, a whooshing sound suddenly rang out.

It wasn't a hidden weapon, but a small white porcelain bowl filled with boiling hot tea.

With an extremely sharp and powerful strike, the water, which was close to the ground, was like a cannonball fired, heading straight for the lower body of the Second Master.

"Who is it?"

The two masters were shocked and had no choice but to abandon their encirclement of Lu Cheng. They turned around and smashed the teacup with a palm strike.

With a crash, the teacup shattered.

The scalding tea, mixed with powerful internal energy, exploded, forcing the Second Master to retreat two steps.

Through the rain, a thin figure emerged unhurriedly, holding an oil-paper umbrella.

He was wearing a black cotton Tang suit with a front opening, his head was half bald, and his back was slightly hunched.

The Grand Master of Southern Wing Chun – Mr. Liang Ting!

"Old Ghost Liang from the Southern School?"

The head of the clan recognized the person who had come, and his brows furrowed into a deep knot.

"Why didn't you hide in Lingnan? Why did you come to Nanjing to wade into this mess?"

Mr. Liang walked to the center of the courtyard, casually tossed his oil-paper umbrella aside, and let the plum rains of Jiangnan drench his thin body.

He bowed slightly to Lu Cheng.

"Master Lu, I am late."

"After parting ways at Hanshan Ancient Terrace, I was fortunate to receive guidance from the master, which helped me break through the mental barriers I had accumulated over the past ten years."

"Today, in this arena of Jinling City, we, the Southern martial arts community, must also help you, and uphold the backbone of Chinese martial arts!"

After saying that, Mr. Liang turned his head and looked at the three Bajiquan masters.

Although he was old, his powerful internal energy, like a withered tree coming back to life, was so strong that it kept the rainwater from getting close to him.

"Master, it's none of my business if your Eight Extremes Sect becomes a watchdog for national traitors for the sake of that little bit of official charity."

"But today, you three want to gang up on one of us, bullying the true dragon of Chinese martial arts? My old Wing Chun hands won't allow it!"

Before he finished speaking, Old Master Liang planted his feet in a "two-character clamp sheep horse" stance, spread his arms, and directly blocked the way for the second and third lineage leaders.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Liang."

Lu Cheng looked at this Southern School master who had stepped forward and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

The pressure has suddenly decreased!

The originally impeccable "Eight Extremes Dragon Slaying Formation" suddenly developed a gap due to Mr. Liang's forceful dismantling of the formation.

Lu Cheng slowly turned his head, his gaze fixed on the isolated and helpless leader of the major lineage.

In those gentle, jade-like eyes, the golden light of the [Fiery Eyes] suddenly exploded.

"Senior, your warm-up is over."

"Since you are so stubborn, then today I, Lu, will shatter your ridiculous illusions."

Lu Cheng took a deep breath, and the misty rain of Jiangnan seemed to stand still at that moment.

"Coo--Croak--!"

A loud, almost soul-shattering cry, like the croaking of a toad, exploded from deep within Lu Cheng's abdomen.

[The King's Armor Removal]!

Once this desperate technique was activated, the jade-colored "fake pill" inside Lu Cheng's body instantly ignited like a star, unleashing terrifying power far beyond reason.

With three times the combat power superimposed on the foundation of the half-step Core Formation stage, the soaring blood aura and billowing smoke even managed to disperse a corner of the thick dark clouds overhead.

Lu Cheng's gray-blue robe fluttered wildly under the violent aura.

Instead of retreating, he advanced, stomping heavily on the bluestone slab with his right foot, transforming into a streak of light too fast for the naked eye to see.

"not good."

The major meridians govern the liver and gallbladder, causing them to rupture.

He had never seen such a terrifying burst of blood and qi.

This is no fake pill for some kind of empowerment; it is clearly a peerless ferocious beast that has emerged from the ancient wilderness!

He exhausted his century-long cultivation, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and attempted a final, desperate struggle.

But it was all in vain.

Lu Cheng's punch was simple and unadorned.

But this punch incorporates the softness of Tai Chi, the hardness of Bajiquan, and the penetrating power of Xingyiquan.

It also embodies his noble spirit of "fist to save all living beings" in his defense of the isolated city of Tianjin and his preaching of Taoism at the Temple of Heaven.

"boom----!!!"

Their fists and arms crossed.

There was no stalemate.

The protective aura that the Grand Master was so proud of crumbled instantly in the face of Lu Cheng's punch, like fragile thin ice meeting the blazing sun.

"Click-clack—"

A series of cracking sounds rang out.

The Grand Master's arms were smashed off by this domineering and unparalleled internal energy, and the fist pierced straight in, heavily imprinting itself on his chest.

"puff----"

The Grand Master coughed up a mouthful of blood, flying backward more than ten feet before crashing heavily onto the white marble steps of the Song Mansion, shattering them into pieces.

"Senior brother."

Upon seeing this, the Second and Third Branch Masters, who were locked in combat with Elder Liang, were filled with rage and their minds were thrown into chaos.

Lu Cheng gave them no chance to catch their breath, his figure flashing like a ghost as he reached out with both hands simultaneously.

A powerful stomp combined with the explosive force of Xingyi Quan resulted in a double punch.

"Bang, bang."

Two muffled thuds.

The two patriarchs of the Bajiquan sect had no chance to resist. They were directly blasted by Lu Cheng, coughing up blood and collapsing in the mud, completely losing their fighting ability.

In the blink of an eye, the three masters of the Transformation Realm were defeated!

The rain is still falling.

Lu Cheng stood quietly in place, the violent aura of the [Overlord's Armor Removal] on his body slowly receding.

He did not continue the killing spree.

In that brief exchange, his [Fiery Eyes] pierced through the bodies of these three old men.

He saw it.

Within the bodies of these three dying Bajiquan ancestors, deep within their withered and decaying blood and qi, there remained a trace of extremely pure golden light.

That is the "seed" of traditional Chinese martial arts.

That is the martial spirit they forged in their youth, when they risked their lives for this land and for the righteous path of martial arts.

However, this spark has now been tightly extinguished by the pursuit of fame and fortune in officialdom, by the compromises of survival, and by Song Peilun's illusory "god-making plan."

Looking at the three elderly people lying in the mud, Lu Cheng suddenly felt a surge of indescribable sorrow and helplessness.

They are not the kind of heinous villains; they are just pitiful worms in this cannibalistic era who have been terrified by the overwhelming power of dimensional reduction and have bent their backs in despair.

"Three seniors."

Lu Cheng walked up to the head of the major lineage.

Rainwater streamed down Lu Chengqing's handsome face, and his voice echoed loudly in the empty courtyard.

"You just said that for the sake of the inheritance of Chinese martial arts and for the sake of official charity, you are willing to be dogs for traitors like Song Peilun."

"You said you'd use the nation's resources to create a controlled 'Martial Immortal' to turn the tide."

Lu Cheng gave a cold laugh.

"May I ask you, senior, is the official charity we received through appeasement more important than the upright backbone of our Chinese martial arts?!"

boom!

These words struck like a thunderbolt, hitting the very top of the heads of the three ancestors.

"Do you really think that by compromising and begging, you can preserve the martial arts profession in this chaotic world where firearms reign supreme?"

Lu Cheng pointed to the bulletproof villa behind him and to the German-equipped soldiers who were hiding in the shadows out of fear.

"In this world, no god is built on money, and no backbone can straighten up by kneeling."

"Martial arts are the art of protecting one's home and country."

"If a martial artist bends over first, no matter how high their skill level, they're nothing more than a high-level thug, a spineless lackey!"

Every word Lu Cheng spoke was imbued with the lofty righteousness of someone on the verge of achieving immortality.

"I killed a Japanese master with one punch in Tianjin, not because of charity from Nanjing."

"My preaching at the Temple of Heaven, wishing that everyone in the world could become like a dragon, is not based on any god-making plan."

"What I rely on is the spirit of those ordinary people in Beijing who, despite eating sour soy milk, still refuse to submit; it's their indomitable righteousness that they can't swallow!"

"You have strayed from the true essence of martial arts."

The Grand Master lay in the pile of rubble, staring blankly at Lu Cheng.

Tears mixed with blood streamed freely from his cloudy old eyes.

Lu Cheng's words were piercing, yet each one was like a knife.

It laid bare the bloody truth of his self-deception and pretense over the past decade.

Yes.

Back then, they were also tough men who carried big guns, dared to fight bandits, and dared to stand up for their fellow villagers.

But when did they learn to read the faces of politicians?

Have they learned to trade their reputation in the martial arts world for those cold, hard numbers?

Official charity?

A plan to create a god?

It was merely a bargaining chip that Song Peilun used to control and exploit them.

"We were wrong."

The Great Master closed his eyes, and two streams of tears slid down his cheeks.

That dusty martial arts heart completely collapsed under Lu Cheng's grand and righteous questioning, but in this collapse, it also regained a long-lost clarity.

The second and third lineage leaders also struggled to their feet from the mud. They looked at each other, both filled with shame and embarrassment.

They helped each other to the head of the clan and helped him up.

Three patriarchs who dominated the martial arts world in the south for their entire lives.

In the dead of night, amidst the torrential rain, they lowered their heads in shame before a young man in his early twenties.

"Master Lu's righteousness is as high as the heavens, we old folks have learned a great deal from him."

The Grand Master's voice was hoarse, as if he had aged ten years in an instant.

"We accept defeat wholeheartedly in today's battle."

"From this day forward, the main branch of Bajiquan will close its doors and refrain from worldly affairs. The chaos in Jiangnan will be entirely in the hands of the Grandmaster."

o

After saying this, the three old men did not look at the villa again. Supporting each other, they staggered out of the gate of the Song Mansion.

That figure looked forlorn.

But they were finally freed from their heavy shackles.

Having dealt with the three elders, there were no more obstacles in the courtyard.

Lu Cheng turned around and walked step by step toward the luxurious villa that combined Chinese and Western styles.

The villa's bulletproof glass had already been reduced to dust in the previous "King Kong Lion Roar" incident.

Lu Cheng didn't go through the main entrance. Instead, he swayed and floated in through the gap in the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

Inside the villa's underground bunker.

The heavy reinforced concrete gate was tightly locked from the inside.

"Bang."

A loud bang.

The underground bunker's security door, which was supposed to withstand mortar fire, was somehow forcefully bulged inward with a huge fist-shaped indentation.

Followed by.

"Boom!"

The steel door, half a meter thick, had its hinges shattered by Lu Cheng's [Dan Jin], causing it to collapse with a crash onto the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust.

In the dust.

Lu Cheng, dressed in a spotless gray-blue robe, walked in slowly.

The basement was covered with thick Persian handmade carpets, and a Western-imported fireplace burned in the corner.

On the brass-flared gramophone, a Zhou Xuan vinyl record was playing, its soft, melodious Wu dialect attempting to mask...

The sound of continuous plum rains from the Jiangnan region outside.

And—that earth-shattering shout of "Execute!" just now.

Song Peilun did not collapse on the ground crying and begging for mercy like a street thug.

After all, he was a powerful official who had risen through the ranks in the Nanjing cabinet, a politician who had seen life and death many times.

He sat in a large leather boss's chair, with a huge rosewood desk in front of him.

On the table was a glass of freshly poured French cognac and a loaded German-made 20-shot Mauser pistol.

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