nownovels Chapter 121 Scaring Jinbao, Visiting Shang Yunxiang
Chapter 121 Scaring Jinbao, Visiting Shang Yunxiang
Chapter 122 Scaring Jinbao, Visiting Shang Yunxiang
After the rain, the air in Beiping smelled pleasantly earthy.
On the stone-paved road at the entrance of the alley, the puddles reflected the gray walls and tiles. Several white pigeons, whose owners I don't know, fluttered down to drink the water, their red claws crushing the clear pool.
Lu Cheng didn't rush to change out of the moon-white robe that was splattered with mud.
He returned to the backyard without disturbing his disciples who were practicing martial arts. He simply sat down in the armchair and picked up a purple clay teapot from the table next to him.
The tea has gone cold.
But he didn't mind and tilted his head back to take a swig.
The herbal tea, once it entered my throat, gave me a jolt, but it also forcefully pulled the fleeting thoughts that had been drifting in my mind because of "enlightenment" back to this mundane world full of everyday life.
"Master, what's wrong—"
Shunzi had just come out of the kitchen, carrying a bowl of freshly fried "gezhihe" (a type of fried dough). It was a favorite food of old Beijing, made from mung bean flour and fried until golden and crispy.
Upon seeing his master's attire, especially the mud spots on the corner of his shirt, Shunzi was stunned.
In his memory, his master was a god-like figure who could kill without getting blood on his body. Why was he in such a sorry state today?
"It's nothing, I was walking in a hurry and it splashed on me."
Lu Cheng waved his hand, casually picked up a crunchy snack, and threw it into his mouth with a crisp "crunch".
"Hmm, Lao Liu's skills have improved. The mung bean flour has risen well and has a wonderful bean aroma."
Shunzi was even more confused.
What's wrong with Master?
I used to eat slowly and carefully, and I always ate without talking. Why am I eating like a laborer who just finished work today?
Lu Cheng noticed Shunzi's confusion, smiled, and offered no explanation.
He is cultivating his inner energy.
Cultivate that "human touch".
Grandpa Han's words enlightened him: if he wanted to reach the highest level of skill, he had to first pull himself down from that lofty "altar" and become a real person again.
Only by understanding the vicissitudes of life can this physical body truly "come alive".
"Go and bring that brat Lu Ling here."
Lu Cheng patted the crumbs off his hands. "Also, invite Old Suo and Master Tong over as well."
"Alright!"
A short while later, in the training ground in the backyard.
Lu Ling, the little beggar from before, was standing there trembling.
The child had only been in the manor for a few days. Although he had changed into clean clothes, the timidity he had developed from long periods of hunger and cold had not yet dissipated.
Especially when he saw Tong Sanjin with his fierce face and the old Suotou who was as thin as a skeleton, he was so frightened that his legs trembled.
"Master, Master—"
Lu Ling called out softly.
"What are you afraid of?"
Lu Cheng sat in a chair, holding a folding fan in his hand, and pointed to a specially made wooden frame in front of him.
The frame wasn't tall, but its structure was strange, resembling several rings interlocked together, looking like a torture device.
-
"This is called shrinking the skeleton."
""
Lu Cheng said calmly.
"You were born with a wide-set arm; your bone gaps are wider than average, and your ligaments are longer. This is a gift from God, making you a natural-born martial arts prodigy."
"But talent alone isn't enough; you have to practice."
"Lu Ling, do you want to be like Sun Wukong on the stage someday, capable of anything, turning rivers and seas upside down?"
"think!"
Lu Ling's eyes lit up, and although her voice was still childish, it carried a hint of fierceness.
"Then let's go up."
Lu Cheng pointed to the shelf.
"Let Grandpa Suo explain it to you."
Old Suo chuckled, a smile that carried the cunning and cruelty of a street performer.
He walked over and pinched Lu Ling's body with his dry, claw-like hands.
"Kid, just bear with it."
"This bone-shrinking technique has two steps: the first is called 'unloading,' and the second is called 'coiling.'"
"Take your body apart, then put it back together, making it more lively and agile than before."
"Snap!"
Before he could finish speaking, Old Suo suddenly exerted his strength.
Lu Ling's arm was instantly severed, hanging limply at her sides.
"ah-!!"
Lu Ling screamed in pain, cold sweat instantly pouring down her back.
"Shut up!"
Tong Sanjin shouted from the side, and stuffed a cotton ball soaked in medicinal wine into Lu Ling's mouth.
"What are you yelling about? You've lost all your energy!"
"This is to open up your bone joints," she said. "This medicinal wine is a secret recipe from the palace; it can penetrate into your bone marrow and melt away that stiffness in you."
As Tong Sanjin spoke, he vigorously rubbed the medicinal wine on Lu Ling's joints.
The force was astonishing, rubbing Lu Ling's skin until it burned as if it were on fire.
Lu Cheng watched quietly from the side, his eyes calm.
Doesn't he feel bad?
Distressed.
But in this world, if you want to be prominent in public, you have to suffer in private.
This kid crawled out of a pile of dead bodies. If he can't endure this little bit of hardship, how will he survive in this cutthroat world?
"Lu Ling, listen up."
Lu Cheng thought for a moment and said.
"If it hurts, just remember it."
"Remember this pain."
"When you're doing somersaults, jumping through hoops of fire, or even fighting tooth and nail on stage in the future, this pain will be your source of confidence."
.
"If your bones are flexible, your life will be strong."
"6
Lu Ling bit the cotton ball, tears streaming down her face, but she just stared intently at Lu Cheng, nodding desperately, again and again.
The hint of fear in her eyes just now vanished completely in an instant.
What followed was a tenacious spirit that sprouted from the very bones and grew wildly like weeds.
They were practicing when a commotion suddenly broke out in the front yard.
"Hey, hey, hey, don't you guys know the rules?"
"This is the Qingyun Troupe, the residence of Grandmaster Lu. Do you think you can just barge in like that?"
The doorman, Old Zhang, sounded anxious, clearly unable to stop the person.
Immediately afterwards, an arrogant voice, thick with a Tianjin accent, rang out.
"Oh ho, what Grandmaster Lu?"
"He's just an opera singer, what, does he really think he's some kind of prince or nobleman?"
"Let me tell you, our master is the 'Costume Keeper' specially appointed by the Peking Opera Guild. He was brought from Tianjin on a grand sedan chair, carried by eight men, to be in charge of the costumes for this autumn grand performance."
-
"I'm here today to tailor a suit for your Qingyun Class; that's to give you face."
"Don't even mention your little Qingyun class; even when we just finished taking measurements for Boss Cheng over there, no one dared to stop us like this!"
"If this delays the important business, and you all go on stage naked during the big performance, I don't know where you'll put your faces."
Lu Cheng frowned slightly.
He stood up and tapped his folding fan lightly in his palm.
"Shunzi" (a type of Chinese character)
"exist!"
"Let's go see which deity is so angry."
"yes!"
Shunzi rolled up his sleeves and rushed out, his temper flaring.
Soon, the front yard became quiet.
After a short while, Shunzi led two people in.
The first one was a middle-aged man in his forties, wearing a dark green silk robe, holding a folding fan, with his hair slicked back and shiny. His face was covered with thick face cream, making him look whiter than a young woman.
This man walked with a swagger, his nostrils pointing to the sky, and his eyes exuding arrogance.
A little follower followed behind, carrying a tape measure and a notebook, also acting like a bully relying on his master's power, muttering as he entered the door.
"They really don't know the rules. The other family paid so readily, but this one is putting on airs."
"You're Lu Cheng?"
As soon as the middle-aged man entered the backyard, he didn't even bow. His triangular eyes sized Lu Cheng up and down, and he curled his lips into a contemptuous snort.
"Tsk tsk, he does have a decent figure, and he's got the makings of a pretty boy."
The way he looked at me showed that he looked down on me.
Jinbao was just transferred from Tianjin. Relying on his strong connections in the Peking Opera Guild and being the "costume manager" who controlled the lifeline of various opera troupes, he looked down on everyone.
As he traveled, he visited every household, and every family treated him like a god of wealth.
Even the renowned Cheng School troupe leader had to obediently hand over a red envelope.
As for Lu Cheng?
When he first arrived, although his ears were filled with rumors about "the glory of Chinese martial arts" and "slaying Japanese people with a knife," he didn't believe them at all.
Having spent many years in Tianjin, he knew the ins and outs of this industry all too well.
In his view, these so-called "masters" are mostly just hyped-up performers.
To boost box office revenue and reputation, hiring a few newspaper reporters to hype things up and a few storytellers to elaborate is a common practice.
Is he really that good at fighting?
If he were truly a skilled fighter, why would he be performing in operas? He should have been a warlord long ago!
Therefore, he didn't take Lu Cheng seriously at all, only regarding him as a young man who had been made famous and didn't know his place.
"However—"
Jinbao pointed to the disciples practicing in the courtyard, especially Lu Ling who was tied to the frame, with a look of disgust on his face.
"What kind of nonsense is this?"
"This is opera, it's art, not monkey theater!"
"Making it so bloody, aren't you afraid of offending the patriarch?"
Before Jinbao could finish his gesturing, his triangular eyes started darting around the yard again.
Seeing several large swords and stone weights used for martial arts practice placed at the base of the wall, the mockery on his lips deepened.
"Look, look!"
He pointed with his folding fan and spoke to his follower behind him.
"This is a common problem with rural troupes; even their training equipment has a clumsy feel to it."
"The famous performers in Tianjin use specially made rattan poles and wax spears for practice, emphasizing lightness and elegance. These big stones here, if you didn't know better, you'd think they were used for building a city wall!"
As he spoke, in order to show off his "knowledge," he strode over to an inconspicuous stone lock.
This stone lock was used by Lu Feng to practice his strength training. It weighed a full eighty pounds and was worn black from being worn down, making it look unremarkable.
Jinbao thought it was just a prop, or one of those hollow, decorative items. Without thinking, he stretched out a foot wearing a satin shoe, intending to kick it away slowly and gracefully.
"Remove one"
He used a bit of skill to kick it.
There was a muffled "thud".
The stone lock remained completely still, as if it had taken root in the ground.
On the contrary, Jinbao let out a strange "Aww!" and his originally white face, which was covered with snow cream, instantly turned liver-colored.
He hopped around in place several times, clutching his foot, the pain so intense it made his face contort; he almost dropped the folding fan in his hand.
"Oh dear! Sir, what's wrong?" The little follower was startled and quickly came over to help him up.
Jinbao was in so much pain that he was sweating profusely, but with so many people in front of him, especially those teenagers staring at him, how could he back down?
He swallowed the scream that was about to come out, forced a smile that was even uglier than crying, flicked his sleeves, and pretended to curse.
"This—this ground is uneven! What a lousy yard! Not even a single brick can be laid flat. It tripped me up. What bad luck, what bad luck!"
The little beans around couldn't help but burst out laughing, snot bubbles flying from their noses.
Jinbao glared at him fiercely, and in an attempt to regain his temper, he pointed to the white wax spear that Lu Cheng often used on the weapon rack and snorted.
"And this gun, it looks like a heavy, clunky thing, only for someone with brute strength. A real expert uses—"
He wanted to reach out and touch it, but remembering the lesson he had learned from the stone lock, he pulled his hand back halfway and awkwardly used a folding fan to cover his face.
"Never mind, it'll get my hands dirty."
Lu Cheng didn't speak, he just looked at him quietly.
With his keen eyesight, he clearly saw the man's attire.
The silk was of the highest quality from Suzhou and Hangzhou, the folding fan in his hand was made of ivory, and he wore a jade thumb ring on his thumb.
This fortune must be worth at least several hundred silver dollars.
Where did someone who manages a wardrobe get so much money? Looks like he's been skimming off the top along the way.
"Sir, what is your name?" Lu Cheng asked casually.
"No problem."
The middle-aged man flicked his sleeves and said in a pretentious tone.
My surname is Jin, and my given name is Bao.
"That's from the Jin Family Troupe of Tianjin. Now the Peking Opera Guild has honored me by letting me manage the costume trunks for this grand performance."
"
"I handled all of Boss Mei's attire. I also set the rules for the various groups over there just now."
It turns out he was in charge of logistics, and a newcomer who didn't know the ropes.
But this "clothing official" is a lucrative position in the Peking Opera world, and someone you can't afford to offend.
"So it's Master Jin."
Lu Cheng cupped his hands in a gesture of respect, his manners impeccable and leaving no room for criticism.
"I was unaware of Mr. Jin's presence today. What brings you here?"
"I wouldn't call it giving advice."
Jinbao snorted, his eyes conveying a sense of "you know what's good for you."
He swaggered over to the edge of the stage and reached out to touch the dark green soft coat that was hanging out to dry.
"Wow, this material is alright, but the workmanship is just..."
He shook his head, his face full of disdain.
"Too rough."
"The cloud pattern isn't embroidered densely enough, and the gold thread isn't real gold, is it?"
"Boss Lu, I heard that people outside are praising you as a god, saying you're a martial arts saint descended to earth and invulnerable to swords and spears."
"7
Jin Bao gave Lu Cheng a forced smile, his tone full of sarcasm.
"But things on this stage can't be covered up by bragging."
"You're a celebrity in Beijing now, and you're going to be performing on stage with Boss Mei. If you go up there dressed like this in such shabby clothes, wouldn't you be disgracing the entire Peking Opera world?"
"If the newspapers publish it and say that this 'shining light of Chinese martial arts' is actually a beggar, that would be awful."
"Besides—"
Jinbao turned around, rubbed his fingers together, and his meaning couldn't be clearer.
"There are rules for the costumes and props used in this grand performance."
"If you want to dress presentably and get on stage, you have to look at this 'writing fee' —"
"The troupe leaders next door are all sensible; they took care of this a long time ago. Since Boss Lu is a grandmaster," he doesn't need me to teach him these rules, does he?
They're here to ask for money.
This is commonly known as "strangling the neck".
Jinbao mistook Lu Cheng for one of those "fake" talents who rose to fame through hype, thinking that by threatening him with a few words and his future in the grand performance, the young man would obediently pay up to avoid trouble.
Lu Cheng looked at his greedy and self-righteous face and laughed.
Ignorance is bliss, and that's absolutely true.
"Mr. Jin is right."
Lu Cheng nodded in agreement.
"This outfit is indeed a bit outdated and doesn't match the scale of the grand performance."
"Then, according to Master Jin's opinion—"
Upon hearing this, Jinbao was overjoyed and thought to himself.
He's all show and no substance. What good is a big reputation if you don't even know who's in charge? He still has to burn incense when he meets the real deal. This money comes to him much easier than those other companies!
"Hehe, Boss Lu is a smart man."
Jinbao held up five fingers and waved them in front of Lu Cheng, making an outrageous demand.
Five hundred silver dollars.
"As long as this amount is right, I guarantee I'll get you a brand new outfit from head to toe—a Suzhou embroidered python robe and a kingfisher feather helmet—ensuring you'll be even more glamorous on stage than Boss Mei!"
Five hundred silver dollars?
Shunzi, listening from the side, almost popped his eyes out.
Five hundred silver dollars, that's enough to buy a small courtyard house!
This bastard really dares to ask for that much! He's clearly taking advantage of his master's fame, treating him like a lamb to the slaughter!
"five hundred----"
Lu Cheng nodded, seemingly deep in thought.
Suddenly, he changed the subject.
"Mr. Jin, money is not a problem."
"However, I've heard that there's a rule in the Peking Opera world."
"What rules?" Jinbao was taken aback, still dreaming of getting rich.
That is—"Better to wear tattered clothes than to wear the wrong ones."
Lu Cheng walked up to Jin Bao and gently dusted off the dust on the soft cushion.
"This one, although it's a bit old, was made according to the blueprints from the Qing Dynasty's Military Equipment Bureau."
"These cloud patterns represent the auspicious symbolism of good fortune," and these armor plates are "mountain-patterned armor."
"That's the rule that Lord Guan followed when he passed through five passes and defeated six generals."
"And the Suzhou embroidery python you just mentioned—"
Lu Cheng looked at Jin Bao, a hint of coldness in his eyes.
"That's what civil officials wear."
"You want me, a martial arts performer, to wear a civil official's robe and wield a broadsword?"
"If this were to go on stage, even without Boss Mei's jokes, the audience would smash my stage."
"Do you want my money, or my life?"
Jinbao was speechless after hearing Lu Cheng's words, his face turning red and white in turns.
He actually didn't know anything about military regulations; he was just a middleman who dealt in equipment and usually fooled those who didn't know anything about it.
But he didn't expect that Lu Cheng was not only knowledgeable, but also dared to talk back.
"This—this—"
Jinbao stammered, then became angry and embarrassed.
In his opinion, Lu Cheng was just being ungrateful.
I was a big shot in Tianjin, but now that I'm in Beiping, do you think you can control me like an actress?
"Lu Cheng, don't push your luck!"
Jinbao's face darkened, and he adopted the airs he usually displays in the guild.
"Let me tell you, the entire costume and setup for this grand performance is under my control."
"Don't think I'm afraid of you just because you brag in the newspapers. What haven't I, Jin, seen? I've seen plenty of stars like you who are made through hype."
"If you don't pay this money, you won't even be able to afford a pair of boots, let alone a python robe."
"Do you believe I'll make you go on stage barefoot?!"
This is a blatant threat.
Jinbao was really desperate, and he tore off that fig leaf.
He was certain that Lu Cheng wouldn't dare gamble with the future of the grand performance, and he was also certain that Lu Cheng wouldn't dare touch him, the guild's specially appointed star.
The apprentices around him were so angry that they clenched their fists. They were ready to throw this bastard out at their master's command.
But Lu Cheng didn't move.
He just stared at Jinbao quietly, as if he were watching a monkey jumping around recklessly.
"Going on stage barefoot?"
Lu Cheng suddenly laughed.
That smile was cold, so cold that it gave Jinbao a sudden chill.
Lu Cheng stretched out one foot and gently stomped it on the ground.
"Thump!"
A loud bang, like a heavy hammer striking a drum.
His stomp caused several cracks to appear on the thick bluestone slab, sending fragments of stone flying and trembling.
"Master Jin".
"You may not know this."
"My feet don't need boots—"
"Killing is even faster."
A chilling killing intent suddenly erupted from Lu Cheng.
That wasn't acting; it was the murderous aura that had seeped blood and killed people, a aura that had seeped into one's very bones.
Jinbao felt a chill run from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head, and the hairs on his body stood on end.
He looked at the cracked bluestone slab, and his legs went weak instantly.
Is this... really true?
Could the rumors be true? Is this kid really capable of killing?
"I—I—"
Jinbao's legs went weak, and he almost knelt on the ground.
He then realized that he had kicked a hornet's nest, and a hornet's nest at that!
"roll."
Lu Cheng uttered a single word.
"Take your measuring tape and get out of my yard."
"You don't need to worry about the costumes for this big show."
"I will prepare it myself."
"If I ever see you loitering around outside Qingyun Class again—"
Lu Cheng reached out and grabbed a white waxwood staff about the thickness of a teacup from the weapon rack beside him.
Rub your hands together gently.
"Snap!"
He managed to twist the incredibly tough ash wood into a twisted shape, sending wood chips flying everywhere.
"This is what happens."
"Oh my god!!"
Jinbao screamed in fright. At this moment, he didn't care about face, guild, or even his little follower. He scrambled out of the Lu residence, not even daring to look back to pick up the shoe he had lost.
His disheveled appearance, resembling a plucked rooster, drew laughter from the surrounding neighbors.
"Master, you are so majestic."
Little Bean came running over excitedly, picked up the white waxwood stick that had been twisted into a pretzel, his eyes sparkling with admiration.
"This kind of snobbish person deserves to be taught a lesson. Let's see if he dares to cause trouble here again!"
Lu Cheng threw away the remaining wood chips in his hand, clapped his hands, but his expression was not as relaxed as his disciples'.
He looked at the cloth shoe with the thousand-layer sole that Jinbao had lost while running away and shook his head slightly.
"It's impressive, isn't it?"
"But this has also thoroughly offended this despicable person."
"It's easier to see the King of Hell than to deal with his underlings."
"There are quite a few underlings like him in this Peking Opera guild, who play favorites and wield some real power. Our big performance this time will likely be sabotaged by someone behind our backs."
Shunzi, who was listening nearby, stiffened his neck.
"Master, what are you afraid of? We'll meet force with force, and we'll deal with any challenge. Our Qingyun Troupe isn't someone to be trifled with. Anyone who dares to lay a finger on us, we'll chop them up!"
"Foolish."
Lu Cheng glared at him, but didn't actually curse him; he just said helplessly.
"We're actors, not bandits. Fighting all the time is a bad strategy. To gain a foothold in Beijing, brute force alone isn't enough; we also need—"
Before he finished speaking, Old Zhang, the gatekeeper, rushed in again, clutching a letter in his hand.
"Master Lu, Master Lu!"
"Who's here now?"
Shunzi frowned. "If it's the same group of people who bring gifts or cause trouble, just send them away."
No, it's not.
Old Zhang took a breath and handed the letter to Lu Cheng.
"It was sent by someone from the Xicheng Simin Martial Arts Association. They said it was an urgent letter from Old Master Han, insisting that it be delivered to you personally."
"Old Han?"
Lu Cheng's expression shifted, and he quickly took the envelope.
The envelope bore Han Jinyong's vigorous and powerful handwriting and was sealed with sealing wax, giving it an air of great solemnity.
Upon opening the letter, Lu Cheng's eyes lit up instantly at the mere few lines of text on it.
[Brother Lu's Comments:]
[I have successfully completed my mission. There is news of the person you are looking for.]
[My senior brother Shang has returned from his travels and is now in seclusion at Songfeng Courtyard behind Baiyun Temple in the Western Hills. I have already written a letter explaining the situation. My senior brother is as fiery as a flame, but also a martial arts fanatic. He has heard of your deeds and is quite interested.]
However, Senior Brother Shang has an eccentric temperament and doesn't see ordinary people. If you're going, remember to bring two jars of good wine, and—it would be best if you could get in through genuine skill.
Remember this, remember this.
Han Jinyong bows respectfully.
"good!"
Lu Cheng closed the letter and couldn't help but exclaim "Good!"
It was like a pillow being delivered to someone who was just about to fall asleep. He was worried that he couldn't break through the barrier of his "transformation of internal energy," and then this guiding light came to him.
"Prepare the car."
Lu Cheng tucked the letter into his pocket and turned to instruct Shunzi.
"Where to?" Shunzi asked.
"West Mountain, Baiyun Temple."
A hint of anticipation flashed in Lu Cheng's eyes, and he added.
"Oh, right, go to the cellar and dig out those two jars of 'Daughter's Red Wine' that have been buried for twenty years, and bring them with you. Then go to 'Tianfuhao' and buy two jin of braised beef, with the tendons."
"Is this a trip to visit a friend?" Shunzi scratched his head.
"I'm going to become an apprentice."
"I'm also going to see a—true Buddha."
Lu Cheng straightened his clothes and looked towards the outline of the mountains to the west.
"It's time to break through this final hurdle of the Transformation Realm."
The carriage left Fuchengmen and headed west.
The road became increasingly remote and sparsely populated. Upon reaching the foot of the Western Hills, the carriage could go no further.
It was an ancient road winding along the mountain ridge, with pine and cypress trees and strangely shaped rocks on both sides.
"Grandpa, the car can't go any further, we—" Shunzi looked at the steep mountain road, a little worried.
"You stay here and wait."
Lu Cheng got out of the car, picked up two jars of fine wine, and hung the package of braised beef on his wrist.
Today he was wearing a long blue cloth robe and fast boots with excellent grip. He didn't look like a master, but rather like a scholar who went into the mountains for a stroll.
"I'll go up alone."
"This—can you manage by yourself?"
"What, afraid I'll get carried off by a wolf?"
Lu Cheng smiled, said nothing more, and turned to step onto the mountain path.
Unlike the bustling Taoist temple in the city, the Baiyun Temple in Xishan is hidden deep in the mountains and forests. On ordinary days, apart from the true Quanzhen Taoist priests, very few pilgrims visit it.
Lu Cheng walked neither fast nor slow.
He didn't use his light-footed skills to run wildly, but instead, like an ordinary mountain climber, he took one step at a time.
But with each step he took, he adjusted his breathing.
The air in the mountains is fresh, carrying the delicate scent of pine resin and the crispness of mountain spring water. Breathing it in feels like cleansing your entire body.
"listen----"
Lu Cheng's ears twitched slightly.
The sound of the wind rustling through the pine forest, the tinkling of spring water hitting the rocks, and even the faint chirping of insects in the grass all clearly reached his ears.
He's trying to find his rhythm.
Find that feeling that Grandpa Han described as "emptying yourself" and "merging with heaven and earth".
After walking for about half an hour, we turned a corner and the view suddenly opened up before us.
An ancient Taoist temple, built against the mountain, is half-hidden among the pines and cypresses.
Blue bricks and gray tiles, with upturned eaves and corners.
There were no noisy worshippers, only a few wisps of smoke rising, exuding a serene and otherworldly atmosphere.
"This is it."
Lu Cheng tightened his grip on the wine jar and strode toward the Taoist temple.
As soon as I arrived at the mountain gate, I saw a young Taoist boy holding a large broom, casually sweeping fallen leaves.
"Amitabha Buddha."
Lu Cheng stepped forward and bowed respectfully. "Young monk, may I ask if Senior Shang Yunxiang is currently in seclusion at the temple?"
The young Taoist stopped what he was doing, looked Lu Cheng up and down, his gaze falling on the wine jar, and he pursed his lips.
"You're here to see that crazy old man?"
"A crazy old man?" Lu Cheng was taken aback.
"you do not say."
The young Taoist priest muttered to himself.
"He never chants scriptures or meditates. He just wanders around that dilapidated courtyard on the back hill, staring at a tree. Sometimes he even stomps his feet in the middle of the night, making it hard for us to sleep."
"If you want to find him, go to the back of the mountain yourself. But I'm warning you, that old man has a very strange temper. A couple of days ago, someone came wanting to become his apprentice, but he was thrown out before he even got inside."
Lu Cheng smiled, took out a silver dollar from his sleeve, and stuffed it into the little Taoist boy's hand.
"Thank you for your guidance, young master. This small donation is for the ancestral master to light a lamp."
The young Taoist's eyes lit up. He quickly took the money and pointed to a secluded path beside him.
"Just keep following this road, and wherever you hear thunder, that's where you'll find it."
thunder?
Lu Cheng's heart stirred.
Where did the thunder come from on such a sunny day?
He followed the path towards the back of the mountain.
The further they went, the more remote the area became, and the denser the trees grew.
Gradually, the surroundings became eerily quiet; even the birdsong ceased.
Sudden.
Thump!
A deep, muffled, yet heavy sound came from underground.
The sound wasn't loud or explosive, but it made Lu Cheng's feet go numb and his heart skip a beat.
It really felt like a muffled clap of thunder from underground.
"This is----"
Lu Cheng's pupils contracted slightly.
He stopped, closed his eyes, and his spiritual awareness of seeking good fortune and avoiding misfortune instantly spread.
Another sound.
This time, he understood.
That wasn't thunder.
That's a person stomping their feet.
But when this stomp landed, the force didn't disperse on the surface; instead, like a pile driver, it forcefully "stomped" the entire force deep into the earth, causing the ground to resonate.
"Thump!"
"Impressive skills."
Lu Cheng opened his eyes, a hint of admiration flashing in them.
"Rooted to the ground, with strength penetrating to the earth's core. Is this the legendary 'Iron-Footed Buddha'?"
He quickened his pace, following the sound.
After passing through a bamboo grove, a small, secluded courtyard came into view.
The courtyard gate was ajar, and the muffled thuds were coming from inside.
Lu Cheng did not rush to open the door.
He stood at the door, straightened his clothes, calmed his breathing, and suppressed his aura to the extreme.
Then, he raised his hand and gently knocked on the mottled wooden door.
"Knock knock knock".
"Come in."
A loud voice came from inside, full of energy, without any sign of displeasure at being disturbed.
"The door wasn't locked."
"Squeak."
Lu Cheng pushed open the door and entered.
The courtyard wasn't large, but it was very clean.
In the very center stands a towering ancient pine tree, its trunk vigorous and resembling a dragon coiled and a tiger crouching.
A short, stout old man wearing a wide pajamas was standing under the ancient pine tree.
He was not carrying a whisk or any weapon.
He just stood there casually.
But the boulder beneath his feet had already been stomped with two deep footprints.
Those are the marks of time, painstakingly etched by wading through mud and stomping on one's feet.
Shang Yunxiang.
A grandmaster of Xingyi Quan and the founder of the Shang School of Xingyi Quan.
His kung fu is not as elegant and beautiful as other masters; his kung fu can be summed up in two words: "honesty and sincerity".
Every movement, every burst of energy, is genuine and unadulterated, without a trace of affectation.
"Junior Lu Cheng, under the guidance of Senior Han Jinyong, has come to pay his respects to Senior Shang."
Lu Cheng stopped three zhang behind Shang Yunxiang and bowed respectfully.
Shang Yunxiang did not turn around immediately.
He still had his back to Lu Cheng, as if he was still savoring the power of that kick.
After a long while, he slowly turned around.
A kind smile appeared on his round face, making him look like a kind old man next door.
But his eyes were frighteningly bright.
Like two newly drawn knives, they instantly scraped Lu Cheng from head to toe.
"You're the kid who stabbed Wanyan Lie to death in the martial arts club and chopped off a Japanese guy's head?"
Shang Yunxiang looked Lu Cheng up and down, sniffed as if he had smelled something, and narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Hmm, he's a promising talent."
"His qi and blood are like mercury, and his spirit is contained within. What's even more remarkable is that he doesn't carry that youthful impetuosity."
L
"In his letter, Junior Brother Han said that you are a martial arts prodigy and a man of great righteousness. I didn't believe it at first."
"A chance to meet you today—"
Shang Yunxiang's gaze fell on the wine jar Lu Cheng was carrying, and his smile deepened.
"He even knew to bring alcohol; he knows his manners."
He suddenly stomped his foot.
"Thump!"
The ground of the entire courtyard seemed to tremble violently, and even the wine in the jar in Lu Cheng's hand sloshed around.
An invisible gust of wind rose from the ground, causing Shang Yunxiang's wide Taoist robe to flutter loudly.
"Since you're here, let's skip the empty pleasantries."
Shang Yunxiang grinned, a smile that revealed the fanaticism unique to martial arts enthusiasts.
"Just listening to Junior Brother Han brag is useless; we have to put him to the test to see what he's really made of."
"Try taking my punch!"
No nonsense.
There were no warning signs whatsoever.
Shang Yunxiang's figure blurred, and his large body moved with lightning speed, instantly closing in on Lu Cheng.
A simple straight punch.
Xingyi — [Bengquan]!
This punch was delivered without the sound of wind or a whooshing sound; it even looked a bit slow.
But in Lu Cheng's perception, this punch was like a mountain collapsing, carrying a force that made it hard to breathe.
An inescapable sense of terrifying oppression.
This is the power of transformation!
This is Shang Yunxiang's "Half-Step Bengquan," a unique skill he practiced his entire life and was invincible in the world!
Lu Cheng's pupils contracted sharply.
He did not back down.
We cannot return it.
Facing a master of this caliber, retreat means death. If one's energy is depleted, one will be completely overwhelmed by the opponent's relentless attacks. He took a deep breath, and the hidden energy within his body instantly erupted. He unleashed a powerful punch, meeting the attack head-on without dodging or avoiding.
"Bang!!!"
The two fists collided.
There was no earth-shattering noise as I had imagined.
There was only a dull "thud," like two huge pieces of cowhide colliding violently.
Lu Cheng felt as if his fist had hit a giant ball, or as if he had plunged into a bottomless vortex.
That powerful and unparalleled strength was actually "eaten up" by the opponent's punch.
Followed by.
An even more terrifying and concentrated force of recoil surged from Shang Yunxiang's fist.
That's not brute force.
That is a kind of "vibrational" force.
Like ripples on water, the shockwave traveled in concentric circles, ignoring his tough skin and flesh, penetrating deep into Lu Cheng's bones and shaking his internal organs.
"Ta-da!"
Lu Cheng retreated three steps, each step leaving a deep footprint in the ground. Only when he stomped his heel into the soil on the third step did he barely manage to dissipate the terrifying force.
Shang Yunxiang, however, remained completely still.
Even the hem of her clothes wasn't messed up.
"hey-hey."
1
Shang Yunxiang withdrew his fist, put his hands behind his back, and looked at Lu Cheng with a smile.
"Kid, you're pretty strong."
"To be able to withstand my punch without breaking any bones, your body is truly made of iron. It seems the rumors are true; your kung fu is indeed quite something."
"but----"
Shang Yunxiang pointed to Lu Cheng's feet, then to his chest.
"Your strength is too rigid."
They only have the drive to go, not the drive to come back.
It's all about rigidity, not dynamism.
"It's like a piece of wood that's too rigid and easily broken. It looks hard, but it's actually brittle. When you encounter a true master of internal energy, they don't need to fight you with strength. With just a slight movement, all your strength will be wasted and you'll end up hurting yourself."
"True mastery of internal energy—"
Shang Yunxiang walked up to the ancient pine tree, gently reached out and patted the rough trunk.
This pat looked so light, like brushing dust off an old friend, without using any force.
But next second.
"Splash—"
The pine needles on that ancient pine tree fell down in unison, like rain, covering the ground.
The tree trunk itself didn't even sway.
Not even a scratch on the bark.
"Did you see that?"
Shang Yunxiang looked at Lu Cheng with deep eyes.
"That's what 'transparency' is."
"The physical strength has been refined and eliminated, and what remains is the intention."
"When it hits a person, it doesn't damage the skin and flesh, but it shatters the internal organs."
"When the rain hits a tree, the trunk doesn't move, but all the leaves fall."
"This is the true essence of Transformation."
Lu Cheng looked at the pine needles covering the ground and was deeply shocked.
He got it.
The power he has been pursuing has actually gone astray.
He relied too much on the system's infusion and his brute strength, becoming accustomed to overwhelming others with sheer force, but neglecting the most subtle nuances of internal energy...
The most exquisite control.
This is the true pinnacle of martial arts.
"Thank you for your guidance, senior."
Lu Cheng took a deep breath and bowed again, this time with the utmost respect as a disciple.
"Alright, stop with the fluff."
Shang Yunxiang waved his hand, plopped down on the stone bench, pointed at the wine jar in Lu Cheng's hand, and made a gulping sound.
"Did you bring the wine?"
"I brought it, a twenty-year-old daughter's red wine, just dug out of the cellar." Lu Cheng quickly handed over the wine.
"Good! Good! Good!"
Shang Yunxiang's eyes lit up. He slapped open the mud seal, and without even using a bowl, he grabbed the jar and took a big gulp.
"ha--!"
"That's great! This is the kind of drink a man should have!"
Shang Yunxiang wiped the wine stains from his lips, looked at Lu Cheng, and found him more and more pleasing to the eye.
"Young man, since you call me senior, I can't just drink your wine for free."
"You can stay here for the next few days."
"I'll teach you—how to bring this stiff, lifeless body to life!"