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

As he closed his stall in the evening, Lu Guan counted the reward money he had earned that day. There were only a little over two hundred copper coins, barely enough to buy meat for tomorrow.

This tight budget made him feel very uncomfortable.

The night was deep and still, the moon was dark and the wind was high.

Lu Guan lay on the wooden bed and placed the shadow puppet close to his body.

Through the thin, coarse cloth, he noticed that the "Eight Extremes Master" shadow puppet in his arms, which had been dull and gray, was now faintly warm.

That was the crowd that gathered under the overpass, when hundreds of onlookers were excitedly cheering and shouting.

As the ancients said, "A hundred people can make a tiger out of nothing, and the opinions of many can melt metal."

The essence, energy, and spirit of these ordinary mortals, when gathered together, can actually nourish this inanimate object.

"pity."

Lu Guan opened his eyes in the darkness, his brows furrowing slightly.

Popularity can barely keep the fire burning like lamp oil, but the "foundation" of this shadow puppet is too poor.

This is just a scrap of ordinary tiger skin with white forehead and piercing eyes. It has been affected by the yin energy of the gray spirit, and its spirituality is like a broken funnel full of holes, unable to hold anything.

The ancient and weathered stage once again rose in my mind.

On the stage, the old master from Cangzhou continued tirelessly, demonstrating the moves of Bajiquan.

Lu Guan stared intently at the Grandmaster's figure.

This time, he didn't try to master the entire set of moves, but instead focused all his attention on the three most dangerous and domineering killing moves of Bajiquan.

A fierce tiger stubbornly climbs the mountain!

The King of Hell strikes with three fingers!

A cannon that reaches the sky from the ground!

These three moves are all aimed at vital points, making them undeniably deadly techniques.

"Smack."

Following the illusory figure of the old master, Lu Guan fought the three killing moves again and again on this stage of destiny.

Relax your shoulders, drop your elbows, twist your waist, and stomp your feet!

The whole night was incredibly boring and exhausting.

Lu Guan didn't open his eyes until the first light of dawn shone through the window into the backstage area.

[Current True Transmission: Bajiquan Mingjin (40%)]

After just one night of training, my progress jumped by a full ten percent!

The immense muscle memory, the techniques for generating power through bones, and the brutal, relentless intent of the fist were all forcibly imprinted into the depths of his soul, causing his head to throb with pain.

"Huff, huff..."

Lu Guan rolled out of bed, his bare feet touching the muddy ground, panting heavily.

My body was soaked in sweat, and in the dead of night when water was freezing, white steam rose from my skin.

He slowly raised his right hand and clenched his fist tightly.

"Smack."

Even without hitting anything, the mere closure of joints and the crushing of muscles created a blast of air in the air.

Its strength has more than doubled.

What's even more terrifying is that when Lu Guan closed his eyes, he was finally able to feel that indescribable "meaning".

Although he was full of energy and strength before, his punches were ineffective.

Now, as he adopts the stance of "a fierce tiger climbing a mountain," his spirit and energy are integrated with the tragic mood of "fighting to the death without retreating."

With intention, with energy, with power!

"Gurgle..."

Just as he was about to try it out, his stomach suddenly clenched, as if it were on fire.

hungry.

So hungry he could swallow a whole cow.

The progress has surged to 40%, the body is rapidly reshaping its bones and muscles, and the extraction of qi and blood has reached an extremely terrifying level.

"Blind man, let's get up and go eat meat!"

Lu Guan grabbed his tattered cotton-padded coat from the head of the bed and put it on. He then pulled out his money pouch from under his pillow, his eyes practically glowing with hunger.

……

For the next few days, the dilapidated gate of Fujuban remained locked.

But everyone under the overpass in Nanshi knew that the young troupe leader who could perform shadow puppetry with such domineering power was actually a complete "starving ghost reincarnated".

Every morning, before dawn, as soon as the butcher shop in Nanshi opens, Lu Guanzhun appears there without fail.

"Boss Wang, ten catties of pork belly, three big bones, don't cut them, just thread them with straw rope."

Then we went to Juyinglou or the roadside inn.

Lu Guanneng boiled ten pounds of fatty chunks of meat in a pot of plain water, barely adding any salt, and then showed off the whole thing in one go without changing his expression.

It is served with seven or eight large bowls of mixed flour buns, and two large bowls of bone broth with a thick layer of beef tallow floating on top.

The old blind man listened to the terrifying chewing sounds, his heart pounding with fear, worried that the young master would burst his stomach.

Lu Guan's complexion grew increasingly ruddy, and his eyes gleamed with a restrained sharpness. As he walked, the bluestone slabs beneath his feet seemed to feel subtly heavy.

"Clang clang..."

In order to cover this terrifying expense, Lu Guan goes to the overpass to perform for money every afternoon.

"The Warrior of Cangzhou" has been performed by the very same person.

With 40% of his internal strength as a foundation, the shadow puppets in his hands became veritable demons.

The audience was completely captivated and readily gave tips.

However, in 1925, although prices had not completely collapsed and one silver dollar could buy twelve catties of pork, it was still not enough to keep up with Lu Guan's reckless eating habits.

"Young Master, the money... is almost gone."

On the evening of the fourth day, after packing up his stall and returning to the theater, the old blind man groped around and poured the copper coins and a few pitiful silver coins from his cloth bag onto the table, then sighed.

All told, it didn't even amount to eight silver dollars.

Lu Guan leaned against the camphor wood opera box, carefully wiping the captured iron dagger in his hand with a coarse cloth, his eyes deep and unfathomable.

"The money was well spent."

After three days of indulging in gluttony and practicing those three killer moves tirelessly every night, the progress bar in his mind had quietly soared to 70%!

He discovered a pattern.

The better the meat you eat, the more vital energy it contains, and the faster your progress will be.

If he could have tasted the tiger bone wine and century-old ginseng that Su Ruoxue mentioned, he would probably have completely mastered Ming Jin by now.

"With the mastery of the whole-body strength technique, combined with my Bajiquan true teachings, these three killing moves should be enough..."

Lu Guan gripped the iron dagger tightly in his hand, the tip of the blade flashing a cold light under the kerosene lamp.

He could sense that his accumulation of internal strength had reached its peak, and he only needed a final bit of foundation to break through the gate of external strength. His muscles and bones resonated, and his qi and blood surged like a powerful force, making it impossible for ordinary ghosts and monsters to get close to him.

He stood up, walked to the offering table, and looked at his master's simple wooden memorial tablet.

"If he doesn't come after tonight, then I'll go find him."

The old blind man shuddered and hurriedly said.

"Young Master, you mustn't! The Canal Gang has a large and powerful force, not to mention they keep that evil ghost spirit around. You're going alone..."

"Once the spirits within him recover, they'll gather their forces and set up a trap for me. That would be a true death sentence," Lu Guan shook his head and insisted.

That night, it was late and quiet.

Lu Guan took out the "Eight Extremes Master" shadow puppet from his pocket, and his heart sank.

The shadow puppet had completely lost its original form.

The faint glimmer of light that had been barely clinging to life thanks to the footsteps of the pedestrian overpass had now completely vanished. The bullet hole in his chest, the wellspring of malevolent energy, resembled a rotting sore on a dead man, exuding a thick aura of death.

The spirit in shadow puppetry is almost exhausted.