madnovel Chapter 146 Politely Rejecting Lin Shiyuan! Shopkeeper, bring another drawer!
Chapter 146 Politely Rejecting Lin Shiyuan! Shopkeeper, bring another drawer!
Chapter 147 Politely Rejecting Lin Shiyuan! Shopkeeper, bring ten more drawers!
"May I borrow some water?"
Golden light flickered in Lu Cheng's usually calm and collected eyes.
It was as if the gods and Buddhas on the temple platform, looking down upon the mortal world, suddenly opened their divine eyes at this moment.
His voice was so soft that it was completely drowned out by the deafening roar of the "Chicago Typewriter".
But the air of authority conveyed by those words caused everyone present to skip a beat without warning.
The mud and water droplets that filled the air were about to fall due to gravity.
But in the instant Lu Cheng swept his sleeves forward like flowing clouds and water, they seemed to be given a soul.
"Buzz—!!!"
A visible burst of white energy erupted from Lu Cheng's wide, moon-white sleeves.
This internal energy is not inanimate; rather, it is the refined internal energy accumulated within his body for a hundred years. After the marrow cleansing was completed, it was refined into energy and released through his body as the "transformed energy"!
The protective energy was like an invisible net, instantly enveloping the thousands upon thousands of drops of muddy water in mid-air.
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"
A single drop of water is weak and powerless.
But under the protective aura of a master of internal energy, and propelled at a velocity comparable to the initial velocity of a bullet, the countless mud and water droplets instantly transformed into thousands upon thousands of indestructible "water swords."
The air was torn apart, emitting a shrill sound, as if ten thousand whistles were blowing at the same time.
The twenty foreign mercenaries, armed with Thompson submachine guns, stared at the mud and water spraying towards them, their pupils reflecting the overwhelming spray. Even their fingers, poised to pull the trigger, froze.
"Puff puff puff puff puff—!"
A chilling thud echoed across the empty flour mill grounds.
These foreign mercenaries were all wearing bulletproof vests that they had bought at great expense from across the ocean. The vests were filled with thick steel plates and Kevlar material, and ordinary handgun bullets would at most leave a white mark on them.
But compared to these "water swords" enveloped in protective energy, those bulletproof vests were like tattered paper used to patch windows.
The muddy water droplets easily pierced through the thick fibers, penetrated the steel plate, and sank deep into their flesh.
However, Lu Cheng did not kill him.
He was a decisive and ruthless man, but he never killed indiscriminately.
These Belarusians and foreign mercenaries are nothing more than tools for getting paid to do things; killing them would only dirty my hands.
His "water sword" has eyes.
"ah!!!"
My hands, my eyes!!
God!
The piercing screams, like the wailing of pigs in a slaughterhouse, instantly drowned out the gunshots.
Twenty heavily armed mercenaries simultaneously exploded in puffs of blood mist at their wrist joints.
The water droplets severed the tendons in their wrists and shattered their wrist bones.
Moreover, each mercenary's eyes were precisely struck by a drop of muddy water.
It didn't penetrate the skull, but it shattered their eyeballs precisely.
"Clang, clang."
Twenty Thompson submachine guns fell neatly and uniformly into the filthy mud.
Twenty war machines, who were just moments before so arrogant, now clutched their bleeding eyes and broken wrists, rolling wildly in the mud.
Disable his gun-wielding hand and take away his sight.
Since you've come to this land to bully and oppress with your guns and cannons, then I'll make sure you never touch a gun again or see the light of day for the rest of your lives.
"Devil—this is Eastern magic, the devil!!!"
Igor, the White Russian leader who resembled a raging bear, was utterly terrified by this scene that was both miraculous and hellish.
The Czech light machine gun in his hand had long since fallen to the ground, and a foul odor emanated from his crotch.
His courage, honed on the Siberian ice plains, was shattered into nothingness before Lu Cheng's divine skill of turning a sleeve into a sword.
"Run! Get away from this monster!"
Igor turned around and crawled on his hands and feet in the mud, trying to escape this living devil.
"Didn't you just say that Chinese martial arts are worse than a dog's?"
A clear, cold voice rang in his ears without warning.
Igor froze, his scalp tingling.
He turned his head with difficulty.
Before he knew it, the man in the moon-white robe, whose shoes were spotless, was already standing beside him.
The Ghostly Steps technique, within this small space, is practically like teleportation.
No! Please————
Igor raised his hands in terror, wanting to surrender and beg for mercy in his broken Chinese.
But Lu Cheng didn't listen to his nonsense.
Lu Cheng slowly raised his right hand, bringing his index and middle fingers together, like a martial arts performer on a stage making a beautiful "sword gesture".
It appears light and airy, without any force.
Just like that, I lightly touched Igor's broad brow.
"Pop".
A crisp sound.
It's like popping a blister.
Igor's massive, mountain-like body shuddered violently, and his blue eyes instantly lost focus.
Lu Cheng withdrew his hand, flicked his long sleeves, and turned to walk away.
Behind him, Igor did not fall; there wasn't even a red mark or a drop of blood on his forehead.
The skin and flesh were intact.
However, inside his brain, under the shock of Lu Cheng's penetrating and powerful internal energy, he instantly turned into a mess.
"Abba, Abba————"
Suddenly, an extremely innocent and foolish smile appeared on Igor's rugged face covered with a thick beard.
He plopped down in the mud, slapping his hands haphazardly in the mud, drool dripping from his mouth, making babbling noises as if he had seen some fun toy.
A ruthless White Russian mercenary leader, a strong man capable of tearing apart tigers and leopards.
Lu Cheng pointed at him and turned him into a giant baby who could only drool.
The entire venue was deathly silent.
The wind stopped, and the rain ceased.
Those hundreds of detained Chinese workers, those old boxers whose legs were broken and who were trampled in the mud.
And then there were the Tianjin residents watching the spectacle from afar.
They all stared blankly, as if frozen in place, at the young man in white strolling leisurely between the blind mercenary rolling on the ground and the drooling Belarusian giant bear.
This...this is Chinese Kung Fu?
This is the same Master Lu who was described in the newspapers as "terminally ill" and "an outcast of the times"?
Shocked.
A profound shock, enough to make one's very soul tremble, rose from the spine of every Chinese person, soaring straight to the top of their head.
"Master!!!"
On the earthen slope, Shunzi and Lu Feng, two tough men, instantly had tears welling up in their eyes.
This is their master.
This is the leading actor from their Qingyun Troupe.
No matter what kind of powerful ships and cannons you have, no matter what kind of foreign warriors you are, in the face of the true skills passed down from our ancestors, as long as you master them, you are a god.
And next to that black Ford sedan.
Lin Yudie stood blankly on the muddy ground, her expensive Parisian custom-made high heels already covered in black mud, but she was completely unaware.
Her eyes, which were once clear, proud, and self-assured of seeing through the world's trends, were now completely shattered.
She looked at Song Ziqi, who had once been so charming and eloquent in front of her, spouting "science and civilization," but now clutched his broken wrist, howling in agony in the mud like a maggot.
She glanced again at Lu Cheng, whose clothes weren't even wrinkled, looking like an immortal who had stepped out of an ancient painting.
A sense of shame and powerlessness overwhelmed her like a tsunami.
She originally thought that foreigners' guns and cannons were an invincible truth, and that martial arts were just a fig leaf for the old era.
She originally thought that no matter how good Lu Cheng was at fighting, he would be nothing more than a piece of meat to be slaughtered in front of a submachine gun.
But reality slapped her hard across the face.
The foreign dignitaries she looked up to, the representatives of modern civilization she relied on, were now like a pack of stray dogs on the ground, worse than dogs themselves.
And that "actor" whom she despised and considered out of touch with reality.
Yet he was like a supreme deity, showing compassion for all living beings and suppressing evil spirits with every gesture.
"Mr. Lu—"
Lin Yudie's throat went dry, and tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.
She took a shaky step, wanting to go forward.
She wanted to apologize for Song Ziqi's rudeness, to repent for her own prejudice, and even—she wanted to beg this man to have mercy and save Song Ziqi, who was wailing in the mud.
"Mr. Lu, please—"
She stumbled forward a couple of steps through the mud, her voice filled with sorrow.
however.
Lu Cheng seemed not to hear her voice at all.
Or perhaps, they heard it, but it didn't even cause a ripple.
He turned his head slightly, his indifferent eyes not even glancing at Lin Yudie's beautiful face, which was streaked with tears, for even a moment.
His gaze went straight past the aloof eldest daughter of the Lin family.
It landed directly on the ragged workers and the old boxers covered in mud, with broken hands and feet.
That kind of disregard is more hurtful than the most vicious curse.
Lin Yudie's steps froze on the spot.
She felt as if she had run into an ice wall, and a chill rose from the bottom of her heart.
She finally understood.
What does "the difference between heaven and earth" mean?
However, she is not a cloud, and Lu Cheng is not mud.
In Lu Cheng's eyes, this so-called socialite who prides herself on being noble and full of foreign influences but is actually rusty is nothing but a worthless mess!
Lu Cheng walked up to the old man, whose knee had been broken by a Japanese judo master.
The old boxing master, who had practiced Chuojiao his whole life, was sweating profusely from the pain, but he gritted his teeth and didn't utter a sound.
"Master Lu, Master Lu—"
As Old Master Wang watched Lu Cheng squat down, tears streamed down his old face, yet he laughed with unbridled joy.
"You—you're not sick? That's wonderful, that's wonderful."
"You've done us Chinese martial arts proud!"
"Old man, your bones are strong, you can get it fixed."
A smile finally appeared on Lu Cheng's cold face.
That is respect for those who share the same ideals, and recognition of their unyielding spirit.
He stretched out his long, slender, fair hands and gently placed them on Old Master Wang's deformed and twisted knees.
"Bear with it."
Before he finished speaking, the hidden energy within Lu Cheng's body melted away like spring water, flowing into Old Master Wang's meridians through his palm.
First, a gentle force instantly severed the pain nerves around the knee, allowing Grandpa Wang's tense muscles to relax.
Followed by.
"Click!"
Lu Cheng's movements were as fast as lightning, pushing and sending with each stroke.
He actually managed to straighten the dislocated and broken bone using his extremely skillful and subtle internal force.
Moreover, the warm, subtle energy lingered around the knee, nourishing the damaged fascia and quickly stopping the bleeding.
"hiss----"
Grandpa Wang gasped, only to be astonished to find that the excruciating pain had largely disappeared, replaced by a warm, tingling sensation.
"A divine skill—a divine skill indeed!"
The few elderly boxers around who could still stand were dumbfounded and bowed in greeting.
"Thank you so much, Master Lu, for saving my life."
"Master Lu is mighty!"
The hundreds of workers around finally snapped out of their shock and burst into cheers.
Just then.
"Beep beep beep—"
—"
A series of car horns blared outside the factory area.
Lin Shiyuan, the cunning old fox who had been manipulating the business world, finally arrived late, accompanied by a large number of police officers and the Lin family's guards.
He got out of the car, looked at the blind mercenary rolling on the ground, looked at the White Russian leader who had become an idiot, and then looked at Lu Cheng standing in the middle of the old boxer, like a star surrounded by the moon.
The old fox's eyes twitched violently a few times.
He knew that he had ultimately underestimated this young man.
This isn't just riding the wave; it's a real dragon carving out its own piece of the sky from the quagmire of Tianjin!
"Nephew Lu."
Lin Shiyuan strode forward, his face beaming with smiles.
"I am late and have caused my nephew Lu a great shock. The Lin family will never forget your kindness today."
"Tonight, I am hosting a thank-you banquet at the Astor Hotel. I would like to invite my nephew Lu and all the esteemed disciples of the Qingyun Troupe to grace us with their presence. I will personally offer you three toasts."
Faced with Lin Shiyuan's earnest invitation, Lu Cheng slowly stood up.
He took the hot towel that Shunzi handed him, slowly wiped his hands, and casually threw the towel into the muddy puddle next to him.
"Mr. Lin, you're too kind."
Lu Cheng's voice was indifferent, conveying a sense of detachment.
"I've opened the doors to the flour mill for you. And I've also protected the Chinese workers in that factory."
"Our debt of gratitude is settled."
He turned his head, looked at Lin Shiyuan's expectant face, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.
"As for the thank-you banquet held by Li Shunde—"
"In Western restaurants, the knives and forks are too cold, and the beef is too rare. I have a light appetite and can't get used to Western food that's still raw."
"The opera troupe has strict rules, and the apprentices are still growing, so they need to eat something substantial."
After saying that, Lu Cheng ignored Lin Shiyuan's frozen smile.
He turned around and waved to the old boxers who were helping each other, as well as Shunzi, Lu Feng and others who ran down the slope.
"Master, Shunzi."
"Present!" the members of the Qingyun Troupe responded in unison, their momentum unstoppable.
"Walk."
Lu Cheng waved his sleeve, and his moon-white robe fluttered in the wind.
"After all that fuss, my stomach is empty."
"I'll take everyone to get something hot to eat."
Under the watchful eyes of a group of dignitaries, foreigners, and Lin Yudie, filled with regret.
Lu Cheng, along with his apprentices and the old boxers, swaggered out of the flour mill.
There was no turning back.
Tianjin Wei, Nanshi, a no-man's-land.
As dusk settles, the city lights begin to twinkle.
This place isn't as brightly lit as the French Concession, and there aren't many cars or mansions here.
This place was a large, crowded courtyard, a gathering place for the poor, street performers, and all sorts of people.
In a narrow, deep alley, the air is filled with the sour aroma of aged vinegar, the pungent smell of chili oil, and the irresistible wheat fragrance of freshly steamed white flour buns.
The dilapidated wooden signboard of "Goubuli Old Shop" creaked in the wind.
This isn't one of those fancy restaurants catering to high-ranking officials and dignitaries; it's a truly authentic "fly restaurant" (a humble, unassuming eatery).
There were only four or five eight-immortal tables with peeling paint in the room, a coal stove burning in the corner, and steamers stacked up to a height of more than a person. The billowing heat even dampened the cobweb-covered beams.
-
"Oh, gentlemen, please come in."
The chubby shopkeeper, wearing a greasy white apron and with a yellowed towel draped around his neck, quickly greeted the dozen or so people who rushed in with a smile.
When he finally saw the young man in the white robe leading the way, with an extraordinary air about him, and the burly men behind him, each with eyes like knives, he realized that...
The fat shopkeeper's legs went weak, and he almost knelt down.
"Master Lu—?"
The shopkeeper also enjoys listening to storytelling; Lu Cheng's face has even appeared in the newspapers.
He never expected that this living god who had just defeated the foreign gun team at the flour mill would abandon the delicacies of foreign restaurants and come to his dog meat stall.
"Shopkeeper, business is good."
Lu Cheng smiled warmly, his previously chilling aura completely gone, making him look like a schoolteacher who had just finished get off work and was having a late-night snack.
"Bring twenty steamers of your meat buns first. The broth should be piping hot, with plenty of cilantro and vinegar. Also, slice a few plates of pig's head meat and smash some cucumber."
"Alright, Mr. Lu, please have a seat. I'll serve you the food myself."
The shopkeeper was so excited his voice cracked. If word got out that Master Lu had eaten steamed buns in his shop, the shop's signboard would be gilded!
There were originally two tables of customers in the shop, but when they saw this commotion, they quickly finished their soup, threw in two extra coins, and ran off, clearing out the entire place.
Everyone took their seats.
There was no elaborate setup, and no clear distinction between primary and secondary elements.
Lu Cheng sat at a table with several veteran boxers.
Shunzi, Lu Feng, Xiaodouzi, and a group of teenagers, along with several young apprentices from the martial arts school, squeezed onto two other tables.
The bench was a bit narrow, and everyone there was a martial artist. They squatted on the bench with their legs spread wide, one leg resting on the edge of the bench. This was called "Jianghu sitting," which exuded a kind of rough and unrestrained spirit.
"Come, seniors."
Lu Cheng picked up the chipped, rough porcelain teapot on the table and personally poured hot tea for the old boxing masters. The tea was cloudy, made from cheap, high-quality tea leaves, but the aroma was extremely strong.
"I apologize to everyone for not going to that grand building today. This place is simple, but I have steamed buns, which should fill your stomachs."
"Master Lu, what are you saying?"
The old man, whose leg was broken, had already applied the secret medicine given to him by Lu Cheng, and the pain had subsided.
He picked up the large, rough porcelain bowl, and his eyes reddened again.
"This tea is a million times better than that French red tea."
"If it weren't for you today, we old bones would have been trampled into the mud and humiliated by those foreign devils. We, the Tianjin martial arts community, will remember this great kindness for all eternity."
"You're exaggerating."
Lu Cheng picked up his teacup and gently tapped it against the glass.
"These are all skills passed down from our ancestors, they are all Chinese, how can we allow outsiders to trample on them?"
"Dry!"
The masters tilted their heads back and downed the bowl of hot tea, thoroughly enjoying themselves.
"The steamed buns are here!"
The shopkeeper came running over with a stack of steaming bamboo steamers and put them on the table.
As soon as the lid was lifted, a burst of steam, a mixture of meaty and scallion aromas, instantly rose up.
Goubuli steamed buns are known for their "thin skin, large filling, and eighteen pleats".
Taking a bite, the oil drips down the corner of your mouth, burning you so much you gasp for breath, yet you can't bear to spit it out.
The table next to it.
Shunzi, Lu Feng, and their gang of starving wolf cubs couldn't wait any longer.
"Oh, that!"
Little Bean was the cleverest; he stretched his chopsticks into the steamer like raindrops.
Lu Feng was not to be outdone, and he used all of Xingyi Quan's "Beng Jin" (a type of explosive force) on his chopsticks, picking them up accurately with every single one.
In no time, chopsticks flew across the table as everyone devoured the food.
This is not just about eating; it's also about practicing your "eyesight" and "hand speed."
Lu Cheng sat at the next table, watching his apprentices eating with gusto, a faint smile playing on his lips.
He didn't rush to eat the steamed buns.
Instead, he picked up the bowl of broth with scallions and oil floating on top.
"Fengzi, Shunzi, Xiaodouzi, stop for a moment."
The apprentices, who were scrambling for the food, suddenly stopped as if pressed on pause, all turning their heads away, their mouths still stuffed with buns and their cheeks bulging.
"Master." Shunzi quickly swallowed the bun and stood up straight.
"sit down."
Lu Cheng dipped his chopsticks into the thick noodle soup in the rough porcelain bowl.
Then, on the wooden table in front of him, which was covered in peeling paint and grease, he gently drew a circle.
"Today at the flour mill, did you all see how I took down that foreign-armed squad?"
The apprentices looked at each other in bewilderment.
Lu Feng scratched his head, his eyes filled with awe and confusion.
"Master, I saw it clearly. When you stomped your foot, the muddy water flew up and blocked the bullets. Then you waved your sleeve, and the water droplets were even more powerful than hidden weapons."
"But----"
Lu Feng frowned. "The water is soft, and the bullets are made of iron. How could they possibly stop them?"
Several veteran boxers put down their steamed buns and listened intently.
This is a master of internal energy imparting knowledge and resolving doubts; it's priceless.
Instead of giving a direct answer, Lu Cheng used his chopsticks, which were still covered in noodle soup, to draw an S-shaped curve in the circle on the table.
A simple Tai Chi symbol appeared on the greasy tabletop.
Lao Tzu said: "Nothing in the world is more yielding and weak than water, yet nothing can surpass it in attacking the hard and strong."
Lu Cheng looked at his disciples, his voice deep and slow.
"You practice Xingyi and Bajiquan, emphasizing direct, unrestrained attacks. That's wrong; that's the foundation."
"But when you reach my level, you must understand one thing."
"Although water is soft, when it gathers into the sea, when it gains momentum and energy, it becomes dynamic."
Lu Cheng suddenly flicked the water droplet in the Tai Chi diagram with the chopsticks in his hand.
"Smack."
A drop of noodle soup, under Lu Cheng's subtle force, shot out like a tiny bullet in an instant.
"Pfft."
The drop of noodle soup went straight through an empty wooden bowl in the center of the table, leaving a pinhole-sized hole in the bowl's wall.
"hiss-
'
The apprentices and the old boxers all gasped in astonishment.
A single drop of noodle soup pierced through a wooden bowl?!
"This is using air to control water."
Lu Cheng put away his chopsticks, his eyes deep.
"When the Qi and blood within your body are cultivated to the 'Transformation Realm,' they can resonate with the Qi of heaven and earth."
"The water is no longer soft."
"It is a wall, and also a sword."
"Bullets are inanimate; their strength comes from the explosive force of the propellant. But water is alive; I've used my internal energy to enhance its viscosity and resilience."
"When a bullet is fired into water, it's like it's stuck in mud; its kinetic energy is instantly broken down and neutralized by the tension between the water droplets."
"That's why I was able to withstand those twenty submachine guns."
Lu Cheng pointed to his disciples' chests.
"Don't treat your body like a piece of iron."
Even the hardest iron can break.
"You must see yourself as water. If someone hits you, go with the flow and deflect their force; if you hit someone, you must be all-pervasive and penetrate to their very core."
"The true path of Chinese martial arts lies in the balance of strength and gentleness."
These words, though profound in simple terms, reveal the most essential secret of internal martial arts.
Lu Feng and Shunzi listened with rapt attention.
Especially Lu Feng, who had been pursuing the ultimate destructive power and almost went mad.
When Jiao Ke heard his master's assertion about "water," it was as if a window had been opened in his mind. His eyes, which were originally filled with killing intent, gained a touch of agility and depth.
"Thank you for your teachings, Master."
The apprentices all stood up and bowed respectfully.
Even the veteran boxers couldn't help but cup their hands in greeting.
"Master Lu's words are worth more than ten years of study," Old Master Wang exclaimed.
"Alright, stop focusing on the lecture, the steamed buns are getting cold."
Lu Cheng smiled and pointed to the table on his apprentices' table.
The stack of steamers had been emptied by the hungry wolves.
Only the very bottom steamer basket remained, where the last crystal-clear Goubuli steamed bun lay all alone.
This one has the most meat filling and the richest broth.
"Oh, that!"
Just moments before, Xiaodouzi was engrossed in the profound principles of martial arts, but in an instant, his concentration vanished. With a strange snap, the chopsticks in his hand shot out like nimble snakes, heading straight for the steamed bun.
"Don't even think about it."
Lu Feng didn't hesitate either. He used the "Cross-Shaped Silk Hand" from Bajiquan to block Xiaodouzi's chopsticks and pressed them down.
"Get out of my way, this belongs to our eldest brother."
Shunzi joined the next round, wielding his chopsticks like a spear, and with a move called "White Snake Spits Venom," he directly attacked from the side.
Three boys, barely out of school, actually put on a mini martial arts showdown with their chopsticks at the dinner table over a steamed bun.
"Jingle bells."
The chopsticks clashed, neither giving way, but neither could pick up the bun.
The veteran boxers nearby laughed heartily; this was the true vigor of youth.
Just as Pi Ren was at his wit's end and was about to overturn the steamer basket,
"Whoosh."
A pair of chopsticks, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, floated over.
I swear there is a sound, I swear there is the Force.
The chopsticks passed through the "net of chopsticks" set up by Shunzi, Lufeng, and Xiaodouzi without any hesitation, as if they were passing through water.
Just as the tip of Pi Ren's chopsticks was about to touch the dumpling skin.
The chopsticks gently picked it up.
"Clatter."
The steamed bun was steadily picked up and then, under the astonished gaze of the Pi people, it drew an arc in the air.
It fell into a mouth.
"Hmm, this last one is just right for Jealous Heng'er."
Lu Cheng sat at the next table, put away his chopsticks, and slowly chewed the bun, a look of satisfaction on his face.
He looked at the petrified apprentice standing there.
"The technique I just taught you, 'using qi to control water,' demonstrates that softness can overcome hardness."
"This is the lock—it can penetrate anywhere."
Lu Cheng picked up his teacup, took a sip of the broth, and raised an eyebrow at them.
"What are you still standing there for?"
"Want some?"
"Shopkeeper, bring ten more drawers!"
"Okay!!!"
A burst of laughter erupted from the tiny, hole-in-the-wall restaurant.
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