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

"No way."

Lu Guan took a sip of soy milk and exhaled a puff of white breath.

"It's that 'Insect King' from Baoding Prefecture!"

"I heard that last night he set up a dead end with someone, betting 100 silver dollars, and managed to win all the money from one of the 'old men' in our Nanshi. The 'Insect King' took the money and chartered a speedboat to escape overnight."

"hiss--"

The thug gasped, looked around, and lowered his voice.

"The old man who beat the one in Nanshi? You mean... Master Hui from the Grand Canal Gang?"

Lu Guan pretended to be very hesitant and nodded.

"Oh my goodness, that's going to be terrible!"

The thug slapped his thigh, his face full of schadenfreude yet also somewhat wary.

"If the Insect King had lost, it would have been fine; he could have just left a hundred silver dollars and gotten out of there. But now he's won Greyhound's money... Oh no, oh no! Who doesn't know Greyhound is a sore loser?"

"Just watch, this morning, the Canal Gang will definitely send out a large number of brothers to chase after that Insect King. This South City is bound to be turned upside down!"

Lu Guan sneered inwardly; this was exactly the effect he wanted.

Spread the word so that everyone thinks Greyhound went missing while chasing the Insect King of Baoding.

Once the canal gang realizes Greyhound is dead, all their attention and anger will be focused on that elusive "Outland Insect King".

Who would doubt that a respected leader of the Grand Canal Gang was beaten to a pulp on the spot by a down-on-his-luck young master from an opera troupe?

After finishing his breakfast, Lu Guan brushed the snow off his clothes and headed straight for Juyinglou.

……

In the woodshed in the backyard of Juyinglou, Manager Zhao was pacing back and forth.

Outside, the wind and snow were raging, and he barely slept a wink all night.

Lu Guan had clearly witnessed the overwhelming murderous aura emanating from him last night. This young man was definitely not there to have a heart-to-heart talk over tea.

"Boss, someone's knocking on the back door," the waiter reported in a low voice.

Manager Zhao's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly went to unlatch the door bolt himself.

As soon as the door opened, a tall figure stepped in, swept in by the wind and snow.

Lu Guan's expression was calm, except for a slight redness at the corner of his eye, and his old cotton-padded jacket was not even torn.

When Manager Zhao saw Lu Guan return unharmed, his pupils suddenly contracted, and a storm of emotions surged within him.

It's done?!

Although he didn't know who Lu Guan was going to deal with, judging from the young man's restrained aura, Manager Zhao knew that a real dragon had emerged from the murky waters of Nanshi.

"Manager Zhao, thank you for your trouble."

Lu Guan stepped forward and helped the old blind man, who was dozing off on the haystack in the woodshed, up. Then he turned to look at Manager Zhao with a sincere tone.

"Since you haven't suffered any injustice here, I, Lu Guan, owe you a favor. From now on, in Nanshi, anything I, Lu Guan, can do, I will definitely repay you."

Manager Zhao opened his mouth, but all the smooth talk he had prepared came out in his mind, and he couldn't utter a single word.

He looked into Lu Guan's eyes, which were as cold as stars, and finally just nodded heavily.

"Brother Lu, take care. The doors of Juyinglou are always open for you."

……

Pushing open the dilapidated wooden door of Fujuban, one sees icicles hanging from the withered trees in the courtyard.

Lu Guan settled the old blind man by the brazier, added two pieces of charcoal, and the firelight gradually illuminated their frozen faces.

"Young Master, is the matter... settled?" The old blind man shakily pulled out his pipe, his voice trembling slightly.

"It's done. Greyhound is dead, not even ashes remain."

As Lu Guan spoke, he took the oil paper package out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

He briefly recounted tonight's scheme, the battle, and how he slayed the demonized gray fairy.

The old blind man's hand holding the pipe trembled as he listened. After a long while, he finally exhaled a long puff of smoke, and a faint glimmer of tears appeared in his blind eyes.

"Okay...okay."

The old blind man's voice was hoarse, full of emotion.

"Young Master, your decisiveness in killing is quite reminiscent of the old Master's demeanor back in the day."

Lu Guan paused slightly as he poked at the charcoal fire, then looked up at the old blind man.

"Uncle Blind, what exactly did my master do before?"

Lu Guan had already sensed that something was wrong.

How could an ordinary shadow puppet troupe leader leave behind a play like "The Warrior of Cangzhou," which contains the true essence of Ming Jin martial arts? And how could he possess a wicked book called "The Record of a Hundred Images," which requires a spirit-possessed skin to be made?

Moreover, Blind Master, a mere erhu player, seemed to possess an exceptionally thorough understanding of those underworld sorcery and secret methods for suppressing evil spirits.

The old blind man remained silent for a long time before sighing.

"Your master doesn't want you to know because he's afraid you'll be tainted by past karma. In this world, the more you know, the faster you die."

"However, now that you have crossed the threshold of Ming Jin, it is time for you to know some things."

The old blind man paused, his voice extremely low.

"Our Fuju troupe may appear to be a low-class shadow puppet show troupe, but if we go back three generations, our ancestors made a living from 'yin-yang' (a form of shamanism)."

"Your master was once a true man who traveled all over the country and tasted blood on the edge of a knife. It's just a pity that he damaged his foundation while protecting that thing, so he hid in this South City under an assumed name..."

Lu Guan didn't press for details about what that "thing" was; he knew it wasn't the right time yet.

His current strength is not enough to bear the consequences of his master's actions back then.

"Old man, let's put the past behind us for now."

Lu Guan unwrapped the oil paper package on the table, revealing a mottled gray squirrel skin. A faint, fishy, ​​and sinister aura instantly filled the backstage area.

"This thing is the skin of a gray immortal that has absorbed incense offerings for sixty years. The book 'Record of a Hundred Appearances' says that the skin must be cleansed with 'yang water' for three days before it can be used, otherwise it will cause a backlash."

"Where am I supposed to get yang water?"

The old blind man smelled the odor, his expression changed, and he snorted coldly.

"What nonsense about Yang Water? That's just something those old Taoist priests use to swindle money."

"Just because it's a beast's skin, does it really think it's a celestial being descended to earth?"

The old blind man tapped his pipe on the sole of his shoe, stood up, and exuded the arrogance of an old craftsman.

"Young Master, go and prepare the equipment."

"Old man, today I'll teach you the 'Seven Methods of Cleansing the Skin,' a traditional method in our shadow puppetry for dealing with these evil skins. Once you complete these seven steps, no matter what kind of demons or monsters they are, all the evil spirits inside the skin will be completely wiped out!"

In the following days, the backstage area of ​​Fuju Class completely transformed into a bizarre workshop.

Following the old blind man's instructions, Lu Guan found a large, broken vat.

Lu Guan went to the neighborhood and asked for some sour and smelly old rice water, then soaked the entire gray squirrel skin in it.

The old blind man said that rice water is turbid and can best absorb the blood and yin energy from the fur of evil spirits.

After soaking for three whole days, a layer of dark red oil foam appeared on the surface of the water.

Take the hides out and lay them flat on a wooden board.

Lu Guan held a specially made leather-pushing knife in his hand, his strength surging forth, his blood and qi flowing into the tip of the blade.

He controlled his strength with exquisite precision, scraping away the remaining rotten flesh, fascia, and fat from the skin bit by bit.

They scraped so thin that the gray squirrel's skin was as thin as a cicada's wing, and even in the light of the kerosene lamp, you could see the texture beneath the skin.

The next day, Lu Guan used bamboo nails to firmly nail the scraped leather to the square wooden frame, making it flat and smooth.

"Place it under the bed to air dry in the shade. Remember, absolutely no direct sunlight!"

The old blind man gave stern instructions.

"This spirit-infused skin is the most sinister. When the sun shines on it and the yang energy surges, the remnant soul inside will 'return to life,' and then it will truly become a living, blood-sucking skin."

In the dead of night, Lu Guan lit several charcoal braziers in the house.

Instead of charcoal, it was sprinkled with aged mugwort, pungent realgar powder, and chopped peach wood chips.

Thick wisps of smoke filled the backstage area, choking people and bringing tears to their eyes.

However, these three items are all sacred objects used by the people to ward off evil spirits, possessing extremely strong yang energy.

Amidst the swirling smoke, the gray squirrel skin stretched across the wooden frame sizzled, and the last trace of malevolent energy on the skin was completely crushed.

After smoking overnight, Lu Guan soaked the hides in boiled alum water.

This is called shaping. Once the skin has been treated with alum, it won't curl when carved with a knife, and it won't shrink when baked. Only then can it be considered a top-quality piece of "material".

Lu Guan took a charcoal pencil made from a willow twig and began to outline the shape on the smooth leather.

He didn't draw a single mouse.

Since it is called "Shuyin" (鼠隐), it is taken from the meaning of hiding and stealing.

Lu Guan then changed his brushstrokes and drew a "night walker" with a hunched back and wearing a large, tattered cloak.

He sat cross-legged under the oil lamp, his carving knife flying through the air.

On the table were the troupe's ancestral mineral pigments.

Cinnabar, orpiment, and verdigris—these pigments have been buried underground for decades, resulting in a dull color.

While Lu Guan was engrossed in carving, the old blind man sat in the corner and set up his broken erhu.

"Squeak—"

The mournful sound of the zither echoed through the theater, and the old blind man's voice, accompanied by the music, began to tell a story in a low voice.

"Young Master, do you really think that with these three bamboo skewers, we can only beg for food under the overpass?"

"Back in the day, your master and I were traveling the world beyond the Great Wall. We encountered dozens of ruthless bandits who killed without blinking an eye."

"Your master, amidst the desolate desert, unfurled a three-zhang-long white cloth, lit forty-nine lanterns in one go, and, holding eight blue-faced, fanged yaksha shadow puppets, set up a 'shadow puppet killing formation'!"

"As soon as the shadow puppet started dancing, the warhorses of dozens of bandits were all terrified, running around in the formation for three days and three nights, until finally they hacked each other to pieces..."

Lu Guan's heart pounded as he listened, and his carving knife became even sharper.

Why did older generations of shadow puppeteers enshrine the Yellow Emperor, Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, and Guanyin Bodhisattva in their boxes?

The old blind man suddenly pulled on his bow, and the sound rose sharply.

"Because this craft is inherently connected to the underworld, the shadow puppets carved can protect guests from disasters and take the blame for others."

"If we can't suppress evil spirits and don't worship these three patriarchs, we won't even be able to sleep soundly at night!"

"Remember, shadow puppetry must end at midnight. After midnight, the yin energy is at its peak, and what you're dancing with won't be shadows anymore, but ghosts."

As the old blind man finished speaking, Lu Guan's carving knife stopped at the last stroke.

He used old cow tendons to stitch together the joints of the hunchbacked night walker's limbs one by one.

The night was deep, and the cold wind rattled against the windowpanes.

Lu Guan took a deep breath, bit his left index finger, and forced out a drop of blood from his fingertip.

"Tick-tock".

Blood splattered under the "Nightwalker's" cloak, around the eyes.

Exactly, it's the finishing touch, a revival through blood!