Republic of China: From Street Performer to War God in a Chaotic Era

In Tianjin in 1925, the snow melted and it was even colder than when it snowed.

In the dilapidated courtyard of the Fuju Classroom in Nanshi, the icicles hanging from the eaves were as thick as a forearm.

Lu Guan moved a long bench and sat down in the courtyard, facing the gate with an air of authority.

The poisoned iron dagger, which had been seized from the gangsters, lay across his lap, next to a bowl of corn porridge that had long since gone cold and was covered with a layer of white grease.

Today is the third day.

Greyhound threatened that he would personally come to collect the land deed of Fujuban in three days and take Lu Guan's life as well.

Lu Guan had been sitting here waiting since dawn.

However, the sun slowly moved from the east to its zenith, and then gradually began to move westward.

Apart from the occasional shouts of vendors selling candied hawthorns and frozen pears, the wooden door remained completely silent.

"Didn't come?"

Lu Guan frowned slightly.

Given the vengeful nature of the Canal Gang, Scarface was crippled, the paper offerings of Yinmen Hall were torn up, and the "Grey Immortal" they worshipped was also injured. Greyhound would not let this go easily.

Is he afraid of that tiger-skin shadow puppet, or is he brewing some even more vicious trick?

Lu Guan stood up and casually tucked the iron dagger into the leg wrap around his waist.

He was too lazy to guess, and didn't have the time or inclination.

In these times when life is as cheap as grass, people risk their lives to make a living. It's better to be strong yourself than to guard against thieves for a thousand days.

Since Greyhound didn't cause any trouble today, he should hurry up and toughen himself up.

"Old man blind, start a fire and make soup!"

Lu Guan shouted towards the backstage area, then walked to the dead old locust tree in the courtyard, spread his feet apart, and suddenly sank down.

Horse stance.

This is not the dead stance that ordinary martial arts schools use to fool their apprentices; it is the "living stance" personally taught by the Bajiquan master in the dream of the stage of destiny.

His legs gripped the ground like the roots of an old tree. His spine suddenly twitched, like a fully drawn bowstring, his chest felt hollow, and his breath carried the faint sound of wind and thunder.

"drink!"

Lu Guan stomped down hard.

Foot-shaking stake.

"Bang."

The whole courtyard seemed to shake, and the frozen yellow earth underfoot was bruised and cracked, with shards of ice scattering all over the ground.

That's how domineering Bajiquan is.

"Moving like a taut bow, striking like thunder."

All the power must be drawn from the stomp of the foot, flowing through the thigh, waist, hips, and spine, and finally exploding out from the fist.

"Crackling, crackling..."

He repeatedly stomped his feet and threw punches, his joints crackling like popping beans.

The martial artist who practices the "Zheng Jin Guan" (整劲关) trains to twist the scattered energy of his entire body into a single rope.

After a short while, Lu Guan was drenched in sweat, and white steam enveloped him.

"call……"

He stopped his movements and exhaled a breath of foul air tinged with blood. His internal organs convulsed, and his stomach burned with hunger.

He strode backstage.

The old blind man had already set up a broken iron pot on the mud stove, with two huge pork bones simmering inside, and three large plates of raw pork with alternating layers of fat and lean meat next to it.

Without saying a word, Lu Guan picked up a slotted spoon and scooped out the scalding hot pork. He didn't even bother with the dipping sauce and started tearing and swallowing it in big bites.

Three pounds of pork and two bowls of thick, white bone broth were devoured in less than half an hour.

After finishing the meat, he pulled out an earthenware jar from under the bed and poured in some cheap liniment. The smell was pungent. He gritted his teeth and rubbed it hard on his arms and legs until his skin was hot and red before stopping.

After finishing, he leaned wearily against the stage trunk and took out the cloth bag containing money, pouring it onto the table.

"Clang clang..."

A few Yuan Shikai silver dollars, a dozen silver coins, and a pile of copper coins.

Lu Guan's face darkened.

The ancients were right: "The poor are learned in literature, the rich in martial arts."

These past few days he's truly experienced what it means to spend money like water.

Although prices hadn't yet reached the point where the gold yuan notes were so common in the following years, one silver dollar could at most buy thirty catties of flour or twelve catties of pork.

He now eats three or four pounds of meat and two large bones every day without fail, and he also has to eat five or six large white steamed buns as a substitute.

Just eating and drinking costs five cents a day.

Add to that the cheap, low-quality medicinal wine meant to relax muscles and improve blood circulation, and the dog-skin plasters stuck to the joints...

Lu Guan rummaged through the money on the table.

All he had left were nine silver dollars and a handful of loose coins. At this rate, he could only last another half a month at most.

What's worse is that just eating this cheap pork isn't enough for him to quickly advance to the Ming Jin level.

What Su Ruoxue said at Juyinglou that day was correct.

The process of strengthening the foundation is like laying a solid foundation; to make the foundation strong, you need to use strong remedies to tamp it down.

If you really want to cultivate your Qi and blood to be immune to all evils, you need to soak your tendons in good tiger bone wine and make a nourishing soup with deer antler blood and old ginseng.

But those things cost several dollars per dose, which is beyond his current means.

Not enough money.

Lu Guan clenched his fists.

I need to go to Tianqiao and earn some more tips. I'll also see if I can restore some of the spirit of shadow puppetry.

He remembered that every time the performance ended and the audience applauded, the shadow puppets seemed to come alive, perhaps because they were imbued with human warmth.

……

Afternoon, around 1-3 PM.

The wind was a bit less under the overpass, but it was still so cold that people hunched their shoulders.

Lu Guan pulled up the white cloth curtain again, and as soon as the old blind man's erhu music started, a circle of regular customers immediately gathered around.

"Oh, the young master is here. Today it's 'Cangzhou Warrior' again."

"Indeed, I saw with my own eyes yesterday that the young master lifted that bastard from Yinmen Hall with one hand. His strength was like that of a tyrant reborn."

The audience was noisy, with many people already holding coins in their hands, waiting for the show to begin.

Lu Guan stood behind the curtain and carefully took out the tiger-skin shadow puppet of "Master of Eight Extremes" from his bosom.

Compared to its imposing presence a few days ago, the shadow puppet now looks dusty and the tiger fur on the side has lost its luster.

It must have been that the fierce tiger in the shadow puppet had exhausted too much of its malevolent energy during the battle against the "Grey Immortal" that night.

"rise!"

Lu Guan gripped the bamboo skewer with both hands and flipped his wrists.

On the screen, the warrior came back to life, his every move still expansive and powerful.

But Lu Guan clearly felt the resistance in his hand increase, it was very stiff.

Fortunately, when the audience erupted in applause, he closed his eyes and vaguely felt a warm sensation.

The energy and spirit emanating from the cheers of hundreds of people seeped through the white cloth and into the shadow puppets through the bamboo skewer.

The shadow puppet's grayish color visibly regained a hint of bright red.

it works.

But that's about it.

While the applause of onlookers can enhance the spirit of shadow puppetry, it's like trying to fill a breached dam with sand—a drop in the ocean.

This low-grade tiger-skin shadow puppet was barely able to carry the true meaning of the Eight Extremes Grandmaster, and coupled with previous damage, its spiritual decline was irreversible.

It seems we must find a new "spiritual skin" as soon as possible.