Chinese Martial Arts: My Super Beast Clone

Lin Hai's consciousness instantly connected with the skink.

He felt a sudden darkness before his eyes, and a stench mixed with the smell of rust, silt, and urine assaulted his senses.

Narrow, dark, and slippery.

Lin Hai controlled the skink, relying on yesterday's memories, and groped his way through the dirty puddles.

Soon, its claws touched a hard, round object.

found it!

Lin Hai's spirits lifted.

He manipulated the skink, using its mouth to pick up the ocean coin that had been submerged in mud and water.

Just as Lin Hai was about to make it return the way it came, he stopped.

Considering that the more skinks appear, the easier it is for them to be discovered, he manipulated the skink to put down the silver dollar from its mouth and continued searching in the sewage.

Sure enough, not long after, the second, the third, the fourth...

Four silver dollars were pulled out of the mud!

Lin Haiqiang suppressed his overwhelming joy. He controlled the skink, using its claws and mouth to pull the four silver dollars out of the mud one by one, and then carefully stacked them together like building blocks.

Soon, the four silver dollars were neatly stacked into a pile.

The skink opened its mouth and swallowed all four stacked silver dollars in one gulp.

Its cheeks were bulging out, making it look somewhat comical.

Then, it turned around, used its sharp claws to grip the slippery wall, and climbed upwards step by step.

A little over half a minute later, the small, mud-covered head peeked out from the gap in the iron fence.

Lin Hai quickly reached out his hand.

The skink crawled onto his palm and, with a "poof," spat out four silver coins stained with dirty water.

Four silver dollars lay quietly in his palm.

It was cold, heavy, and carried the stench of the sewers, yet it also shone with a captivating luster.

Lin Hai glanced around, quickly stuffed the silver dollar into his pocket, and then put the skink back into his sleeve.

After doing all this, he finally let out a long sigh of relief, feeling that his back was soaked with cold sweat.

One-third of the twelve silver dollars in tuition fees has already been paid.

Learning martial arts at a martial arts school is no longer an unattainable dream.

He quickly straightened his clothes, walked out of the alley, and hurried to catch up with the patrol team.

"Lin Hai, why have you been gone for so long?" A Dong asked casually.

"I have diarrhea," Lin Hai replied without changing his expression.

The group continued moving forward.

Just then, a crisp newsboy's call came from the street corner, breaking the morning's stillness.

"Extra number! Extra number!"

A seven- or eight-year-old newsboy, carrying a stack of newspapers with still-wet ink, dashed out from the street corner.

"The world is shaken! Long Zhenhai, the number one martial saint of the Divine Continent, has ascended the throne as Emperor! Take a look!"

In an instant, everyone on the street, whether police officers, vendors, or rickshaw pullers, stopped in their tracks and all turned to look at the newsboy.

Lin Hai's brain went blank.

The history of this world differs from that of the world in his memory in many details, but the general trend is strikingly similar.

He had heard the name Long Zhenhai countless times. The most powerful man of his time, the leader of the warlords, and also the universally acknowledged... the number one martial saint of China.

It is said that this person has already reached the pinnacle of martial arts, the realm of the Innate Martial Saint, with martial arts cultivation reaching the heavens and the earth, and is the pillar of stability for China to resist the great powers.

But now, this martial saint, who should have carried the hopes of countless Chinese people, has chosen to become emperor.

Lin Hai strode up to the newsboy and took out a few copper coins from his pocket.

"Give me one."

The front page of the newspaper prominently featured the eight characters "Change the reign title to Xinwu, reign supreme over the world" in the largest font.

Beside him was a photo of Long Zhenhai wearing a dragon robe. He was tall and imposing, with a dignified face, exuding an aura of authority without anger, and his eyes were disdainful, carrying an air of dominance that looked down upon all living beings.

Lin Hai held the newspaper, feeling an indescribable sense of oppression.

He looked up to look for Zhang Yuanshan, but found that he was no longer in the group.

"Where's the captain?" Lin Hai asked A Dong.

Ah Dong pointed to an open-air tea stall on a street corner not far away.

"The captain said he was thirsty and went to get a cup of tea."

Lin Hai walked over.

Zhang Yuanshan was sitting alone at the old wooden table of the tea stall, with a bowl of steaming coarse tea in front of him.

He was also holding a newspaper in his hand.

Lin Hai sat down opposite him.

After a long while, Zhang Yuanshan sighed, picked up the teacup, and gulped down the tea in one go.

"Bang!"

He slammed the empty bowl down on the table with a heavy thud.

"Martial Saint? What a load of rubbish!"

Zhang Yuanshan's voice was hoarse, filled with barely suppressed anger.

"Now, with foreign powers surrounding us and warlords carving up the country, the nation's fate is hanging by a thread, and the people are suffering! Long Zhenhai, hailed as the greatest martial saint of China, instead of thinking of relieving the people's misery, expelling the invaders, restoring national prestige, and recovering the land stolen by Japan, is instead acting perversely at this time, attempting to become an emperor who will bear the infamy of a thousand years!"

"Traitor to the nation! He is the greatest thief who has stolen the country from China!"

Zhang Yuanshan's eyes were bloodshot, and veins bulged on his forehead. He wasn't speaking to Lin Hai, but rather to the heavens and earth, venting his anger.

Several tea drinkers around him shrank back in fright upon hearing his words, and quickly paid their bills and left.

Lin Hai listened quietly without saying a word.

He could sense the grief and indignation in Uncle Zhang's words, a profound sorrow stemming from utter disappointment with the future of the nation.

After venting his frustrations, Zhang Yuanshan looked at the people hurrying along the street, struggling to make a living, and then at the Western-style buildings standing in the foreign concessions and the flags of various countries fluttering in the distance. A bleak expression appeared on his face.

"Xiao Hai," he suddenly said, his voice filled with weariness and dejection.

Uncle Zhang.

"This foreign city, and even the entire land of China, is about to be thrown into great chaos."

Zhang Yuanshan spoke slowly, his gaze passing through the bustling street and looking towards the hazy sky.

"If Long Zhenhai declares himself emperor, how many of those warlords who hold heavy military power will be convinced? In that case, another great war that will sweep across the entire land will be inevitable, with rivers of blood flowing."

"And those great powers would be happiest to see us fighting among ourselves. They would pounce on us like sharks smelling blood, tearing at the last piece of good flesh."

"Chaos...is truly on its way."

Lin Hai remained silent. His hand, which was under the table, unconsciously reached into his pocket and tightly gripped the few cold, heavy silver dollars.

Uncle Zhang's words were not an exaggeration.

A massive storm is brewing over this ancient land.

He and his family were merely a small boat in this storm, a vessel that could capsize at any moment.

Without power, one can only be slaughtered by others.

This thought has never been so clear, so urgent.

"Uncle Zhang," Lin Hai looked up, meeting Zhang Yuanshan's gaze, and asked, word by word, "Are you familiar with the Fuhu Martial Arts School in Dongcheng?"