madnovel Chapter 134 Rescuing the Grandmaster, Part 1 of "Dingjun Mountain"
Chapter 134 Rescuing the Grandmaster, Part 1 of "Dingjun Mountain"
Chapter 135 Rescuing the Grandmaster, a Scene from "Dingjun Mountain"
"You—are you a human or a ghost?!"
The Japanese ronin slumped into waist-deep, stinking water, his body covered in mud, and his crotch was a mixture of urine and water that was impossible to tell from the liquid.
He was left with only half a bare knife hilt in his hand, staring at Lu Cheng as if he had seen a corpse rise from the dead in broad daylight.
Lu Cheng ignored him.
His moon-white robe was almost blindingly white in the dark and cramped water prison.
The black cloth shoes with multi-layered soles on my feet did not sink when they touched the water. Instead, they glided forward lightly, as if walking on flat ground, using the buoyancy of the water.
"Leaving no trace on water—a transformation of internal energy?!"
The old Baguazhang master Cheng Tinghua, whose collarbone was chained, suddenly trembled with his withered lips, and a terrifying glint flashed in his cloudy old eyes.
"Noisy."
Lu Cheng glanced at the ronin.
He didn't seem to snatch the white waxwood stick at all; he just casually poked it down.
With a muffled "plop".
Before the ronin could even scream, a large crater appeared in his chest, and he sank limply into the stinking water like a punctured toad, bubbling up a few blood bubbles before falling still.
Killing someone is as easy as pulling weeds—clean and efficient.
Lu Cheng walked up to the four old masters, looking at the iron chains as thick as an infant's arm on their collarbones, and the flesh pierced by the iron hooks, the killing intent in his eyes solidified into a tangible form.
These four men, if placed in the martial arts circles of Beiping and Tianjin, would all be towering figures whose every move would shake the world.
Now he has been tortured to the point of being unrecognizable.
"Brother Liu, I'm late," Lu Cheng said gently.
"Brother Lu, you—you shouldn't have come!"
Liu Wenhua's tears mingled with blood as he cried, a mixture of agitation and anxiety. "This is a trap set by the Japanese. There are at least several hundred guns outside. How can you possibly break through alone?"
"Hundreds of guns?"
Lu Cheng smiled faintly, a smile that, even in the dim light, exuded a gentle, spring-like warmth.
"Tonight in Tianjin, there are only dead bodies, no guns."
Before he finished speaking, Lu Cheng reached out and grasped the steel hook that had pierced Liu Wenhua's collarbone.
"Bear with it."
He took a deep breath, and the [Toad-Catching Strength] within his body instantly circulated, compressing a hundred years' worth of pure internal energy into his fingertips.
The terrifying aspect of a master of internal energy transformation lies in their absolute control over power.
"Crunch—"
A metallic twisting sound rang out.
The iron hook, forged from refined steel, was straightened out like noodles in Lu Cheng's fair and slender hands.
Moreover, this force was so subtle that it only affected the steel, without harming Liu Wenhua's flesh or blood.
"What kind of divine power is this?!"
The elderly Mr. Yang Chengfu, who was practicing Tai Chi nearby, gasped in astonishment. He had practiced Tai Chi for his entire life, mastering the Eighteen Falls and the art of using minimal force to deflect a great weight, but he had never heard of such finger strength that could crush iron like mud with bare hands.
"Click, click."
Following the same method, Lu Cheng removed all the chains and barbs from the four old masters in less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea.
He reached out and checked Liu Wenhua's pulse, his brows furrowing slightly.
"What a vicious medicine! It completely blocks the flow of qi and blood in the meridians."
"Brother Lu, don't worry about us."
Old Mr. Cheng Tinghua, panting heavily, leaned against the wall. "There's no antidote for this muscle-relaxing powder. We can't even beat a three-year-old now. Taking us along would only be a burden. You go out and fight your way out, tell the men in Beiping to avenge us!"
"Now that I, Lu Cheng, have come, there is no rule that I should leave empty-handed."
Lu Cheng took off the cloth bag from his back and opened it in front of the four people.
"Splash!"
Several ancient boxing manuals, as well as the tokens of the masters of Xingyi, Bagua, and Taiji, were revealed under the lights.
"This is—" Liu Wenhua's eyes widened suddenly.
"That dog Ma San has already gone down to scout the way for you seniors," Lu Cheng said calmly.
"I'll overturn the 100 tables at Dengyinglou for you all."
"Tonight, Tianjin will no longer have Chairman Ma."
Dead silence.
The water dungeon was utterly silent.
The four grandmasters looked at each other, their minds buzzing.
Did he single-handedly disrupt the grand banquet at Dengyinglou Restaurant with its hundred tables? And kill Ma San?
That place was protected by hundreds of Axe Gang thugs and Japanese ronin.
What earth-shattering thing did this young man do?
"Come on, I'll take you all home."
Lu Cheng didn't explain much. He helped Liu Wenhua up with one hand and picked up the white waxwood pole with the other.
"But—without the antidote, we can't move." Mr. Yang said with a wry smile.
"The antidote is in Yagyu Shizukumo."
A glint of gold flashed in Lu Cheng's eyes. "Perfect, I need to borrow his head for a while."
Hongkou Dojo, ground level.
A piercing alarm suddenly blared through the night sky, its mournful sound like the wailing of a night owl.
"Enemy attack! The underground water dungeon is under attack."
"Quickly, seal off the exits."
Squads of Japanese soldiers in khaki uniforms, armed with flashlights and Type 38 rifles, surged toward the dungeon entrance like mad dogs, hundreds of them blocking the narrow concrete exit.
"Ready—" A Japanese sergeant raised his sword.
Just then, a series of unhurried footsteps came from the basement passage.
"Da, da, da."
With each blast, the hearts of the Japanese soldiers outside skipped a beat.
"Fire!!!" the sergeant roared in terror.
"Bang bang bang bang—!"
Flames spewed out, and a dense barrage of bullets, like a metal storm, instantly covered the basement exit.
Cement debris flew everywhere, and smoke filled the air.
But the next second, the gunfire stopped abruptly.
Because they saw a person emerge from the hail of bullets.
He wore a moon-white long robe, spotless.
He did not dodge the bullets.
No, to be precise, the bullets were avoiding him.
The master of transforming internal energy possesses profound sincerity and foresight.
Lu Cheng's [Fiery Eyes] combined with the subtle sensation of neutralizing internal energy allowed his body to make an extremely slight twist the instant the bullet was fired.
The bullets either grazed the hem of his clothes or passed right under his ribs.
Not a feather can be added, not a fly can land. Not even a bullet can touch me.
Lu Cheng strolled leisurely into the hail of bullets.
He suddenly jerked the white waxwood stick in his hand.
"Buzz—!"
The pole traced a semicircle in the air.
Instead of hitting people, he used the terrifying hidden force to strike the scattered rubble and bullet casings on the ground.
"Swish, swish, swish!"
The flying rubble and spent cartridges, driven by a century of internal energy, transformed into hidden weapons even more terrifying than bullets.
"ah--!"
The screams were continuous.
The dozens of Japanese soldiers in the front row fell down in unison, like wheat being cut down. Each of them had a piece of stone or a bullet casing embedded in their forehead or throat, and blood gushed out.
"He's a devil! He's a devil!"
The remaining Japanese soldiers were terrified and, no longer caring about firing, fled in disarray, abandoning their weapons and armor.
"Brother Lu, well done!"
The four old masters, including Liu Wenhua, who were following behind, helped each other out. They were utterly shocked by the sight of the corpses on the ground and the back view of that immortal figure in the moonlight.
"Baka yarou".
Just then, a roar came from the inner courtyard deep within the dojo.
A man dressed in a loose kimono and wooden clogs, holding a samurai sword in both hands, leaped down from the roof like a large bird and landed heavily in front of Lu Cheng.
Yagyu Seiun!
This master of internal energy, known as the "Sword Saint" in Japan, now had bloodshot eyes and was staring intently at Lu Cheng.
His left arm was still wrapped in bandages, a hidden injury he had sustained a few days earlier in Beiping from the two grandmasters, Sun Lutang and Shang Yunxiang, which had not yet healed.
But the murderous aura emanating from him was ten times stronger than that night.
"It's you, that actor from Beiping!"
Yagyu Seiyun recognized Lu Cheng and was somewhat surprised.
I never imagined that this young man would progress so quickly.
"The antidote." Lu Cheng looked at him and said succinctly.
"Antidote? Hahaha!"
Yagyu Shizuku laughed wildly and raised his katana.
"Defeat the knife in my hand, and the antidote will be yours. You Chinese are all a bunch of sick men of East Asia. Today, I will use your blood to wash away the shame I suffered in Beiping."
"Noisy."
Lu Cheng didn't waste any words.
He casually stuck the white waxwood stick in the ground, and with a "plop," the stick sank more than a foot deep into the blue brick and stood firmly.
"You don't use weapons?" Yagyu Shizuku was taken aback, then flew into a rage. This was a great insult to him, a sword saint.
"Why use weapons to kill you, you stray dog?"
Lu Cheng's hands hung naturally at his sides, his eyes calm and still.
"kill!!!"
Yagyu Shizuun went mad. He gripped his sword with both hands and unleashed the ultimate technique of the Yagyu Shinkage-ryu school—[Swallow Return]!
The blade flashed like a bolt of lightning, leaving a silver afterimage in the air, heading straight for Lu Cheng's neck.
This strike sealed off all escape routes; it was a deadly blow delivered by a master of internal energy, who had concentrated his essence, qi, and spirit.
But in Lu Cheng's [eagle eyes], the trajectory of this strike, the point of force, and even the contraction of Yagyu Shizukumo's muscles were clearly visible. "Too slow."
Just as the blade was about to strike.
Lu Cheng made a move.
Instead of retreating, he took half a step forward to face the flashing blade.
This half-step is the starting stance of the "Half-Step Crushing Fist" passed down to him by Shang Yunxiang.
But he didn't use his fists.
Instead—two fingers!
The index and middle fingers are brought together, like the sword finger gesture of a martial arts performer on stage.
"Ding!"
A crystal-clear, metallic clang rang out.
Yagyu Shizukumo's seemingly inevitable strike, capable of cleaving through armor, was actually firmly caught by Lu Cheng's two fingers.
"What?!"
Yagyu Seiyun's pupils contracted sharply, and his heart pounded wildly.
He tried desperately to draw the knife, but the blade seemed to be attached to Lu Cheng's finger, remaining completely still.
"Your internal energy is too mixed up."
Lu Cheng looked at him, a hint of pity flashing in his eyes.
"He practiced swordsmanship his whole life, but he never even understood how to train his own heart."
"Sever."
Lu Cheng gently flicked his fingers.
A hundred years of refined internal energy was instantly released through his fingertips.
"Snap—!"
That famous Japanese sword, forged through countless trials, was broken in two with just two bare fingers!
"Pfft."
Before Liu Shengjingyun could react, Lu Cheng had already lightly sliced the broken half of the knife he was holding across his throat.
No blood gushed out; only a thin red line appeared on Yagyu Shizuku's neck.
"you----"
Yagyu Shizuku's eyes widened, a gurgling sound came from his throat, and the broken half of the sword in his hand fell to the ground with a "clang".
He clutched his neck, his knees buckled, and he knelt before Lu Cheng.
The mighty Japanese swordsman died before he could even withstand a single move.
Lu Cheng didn't look at him again, but reached into Liu Shengjingyun's arms and pulled out a small white porcelain bottle.
I uncorked it and took a sniff; a pungent medicinal smell filled the air. "Found it."
Lu Cheng turned around and threw the porcelain bottle to Liu Wenhua.
"Brother Liu, the antidote. Take it quickly."
The four venerable masters, their hands trembling, took the porcelain bottle, poured out the pills inside, and swallowed them.
In a short while, a surge of heat rose within his body, and the sealed internal energy finally began to slowly recover.
"Brother Lu, I am deeply grateful and cannot express my thanks."
With tears in her eyes, Liu Wenhua bowed deeply to Lu Cheng.
"We can't stay here any longer; the main force of the Japanese army in Tianjin will be here soon. Let's go!"
Lu Cheng pulled the white waxwood stick from the ground and turned to walk towards the gate of the temple.
Outside the gate, flames soared into the sky.
That was Yuan Baye's doing, deliberately setting fire to create chaos while he was making contact in the French Concession.
Several black Ford sedans, with their lights off, were parked at the intersection.
"Master Lu, over here."
A leader of the Green Gang greeted them in a low voice.
Lu Cheng escorted the four old masters into the car.
"boom!"
The car engine roared and disappeared into the thick night of Tianjin.
All that remained in the Hongkou Dojo were corpses scattered on the ground and a "Sword Saint" who had fallen forever.
The next morning.
The sun rises in Tianjin as usual, and the Haihe River continues to flow turbidly.
But the entire city of Tianjin was as if an atomic bomb had been dropped on it, completely turning the world upside down.
In the streets and alleys, in teahouses and taverns, all the newsboys were waving their extra editions wildly.
"Newspapers for sale! Newspapers for sale! A shocking case! Chairman Ma San suddenly died of a heart attack at his retirement banquet, and hundreds of thugs from Dengyinglou were struck by lightning!"
-
"Breaking news! The Hongkou Dojo in the Japanese Concession was engulfed in flames at night. Sword Saint Yagyu Seiun committed seppuku and is suspected of resigning to take responsibility."
In those days, newspapers used extremely roundabout language to avoid the brunt of the Japanese criticism and the censorship of the concessions.
But anyone with a modicum of common sense could see through the trickery involved.
What is "sudden heart attack"? What is "being struck by lightning"?
Hundreds of people were struck by lightning at the same time?
Although the people of Tianjin dared not say it openly, it had already spread like wildfire in private.
"Have you heard? It's that living martial arts master from Beiping who's made a move!"
"My goodness, one person, with just a stick, leveled Dengying Tower. He even stormed into the Japanese concession and twisted the head off that Japanese swordsman."
"This really makes us Chinese proud. It's so satisfying to vent our anger."
National Hotel, third-floor suite.
Unlike the deafening noise outside, this room was so quiet that you could hear the water boiling as it brewed tea.
The finest West Lake Longjing tea is brewed in a purple clay teapot, filling the air with its delicate fragrance.
Lu Cheng, dressed in a loose-fitting moon-white silk shirt and holding a Xiangfei bamboo folding fan, was sitting on the sofa, leisurely sipping his tea.
Opposite to him.
Four old masters sat there, having just changed into clean robes and washed away the blood and stench.
Liu Wenhua, Yang Chengfu, Cheng Tinghua, and that old master of Tongbei Quan.
These four titans, whose mere presence could shake the northern martial arts world, sat before Lu Cheng, yet appeared somewhat awkward, even—
With a hint of awe.
"Brother Lu————"
Liu Wenhua held the teacup in both hands, looking at Lu Cheng's calm and expressionless young face, her throat tightening.
"If it weren't for your heroic rescue, we old bones would all have perished in that filthy water dungeon."
"The martial arts world in the north will also have its foundation completely destroyed by that traitor Ma San."
Liu Wenhua stood up, straightened his long robe, and then bent his knees, about to perform a grand salute.
"Brother Liu, you mustn't."
Lu Cheng reacted swiftly, extending his folding fan and using a gentle, subtle force to support Liu Wenhua's knees, preventing him from kneeling down.
"We are all fellow practitioners in the martial arts world, sharing the same spirit and being of one mind. Moreover, you have shown me the kindness of gifting me this painting. If I were to stand by and watch someone die, what use would all my martial arts skills be?"
Lu Cheng's voice was gentle, yet it carried a hint of boldness.
"Our predecessors are the backbone of the Chinese martial arts world. As long as their backbones don't bend, the spirit of the Chinese people will not dissipate."
"Good, that's a truly upright character."
Master Cheng, a practitioner of Baguazhang, slapped his thigh, his beard trembling with excitement.
"Grandmaster Lu, I am a few years older than you, yet I am still honored to call you Grandmaster. Your skills and your character have reached the pinnacle, a true return to simplicity."
"From this day forward, the top spot in the Northern martial arts world belongs to you. We old folks will beat the drums to cheer you on."
Several masters nodded in agreement, their admiration stemming from genuine respect.
One man, in one night, leveled Dengying Tower and destroyed Hongkou Dojo.
Such a record is something they wouldn't even dare to dream of, let alone now that they're old, even when they were young and at their peak.
"You flatter me, seniors."
Lu Cheng smiled and shook his head.
"I, Lu Cheng, am just an opera singer. Fighting and killing is fine occasionally, but if you really want me to be some kind of martial arts alliance leader, wouldn't that be taking away everyone's livelihood?"
With just one sentence, the old masters burst into laughter, and the somewhat heavy atmosphere instantly relaxed.
"Knock knock knock".
Just then, there was a gentle knock on the door.
Shunzi pushed open the door and came in, carrying a tray with several plates of Tianjin breakfast he had just bought.
Goubuli steamed buns, Erduoyan fried cakes, and steaming hot jianbing guozi (Chinese crepes).
"Master, the breakfast you requested has been bought back early."
While arranging the plates, Shunzi lowered his voice and said, "Master, there are a lot more police officers on the streets outside. I heard that the Japanese consulate is furious and they're arresting people all over the place."
"Arrest them?"
Lu Cheng picked up a Goubuli steamed bun, took a bite, and the meat juices overflowed.
"Who can they catch? Did they catch a deity?"
Lu Cheng's nonchalant attitude left the senior masters speechless with astonishment.
Such composure, remaining unmoved even when Mount Tai collapses before you, truly makes you a divine being.
"Brother Lu, what are our plans next?" Liu Wenhua asked with some concern.
"We probably can't stay in Tianjin any longer. The Japanese may not have any evidence, but they'll definitely guess that you did it."
"Can't stand it anymore?"
Lu Cheng swallowed the steamed bun, took a sip of tea, picked up the folding fan, and twirled it in his hand.
"Brother Liu, have you forgotten why we're here?"
"We're here to perform opera."
"
Lu Cheng smiled slightly.
"We've accepted the invitation to the grand performance, and we've also booked the entire Chinese Theatre."
"How can the lead actor run away before the play is even over?"
"If word gets out, wouldn't the people of Tianjin laugh at my Qingyun Troupe for being unruly?"
The four masters looked at each other in bewilderment.
At a time like this, you're still thinking about performing opera?
The Japanese bayonets were practically pointed right at our noses!
"But—" Mr. Yang Chengfu frowned.
"Don't worry, seniors."
Lu Cheng stood up, walked to the window, and looked down at the bustling streets of the French Concession.
"I'm not just going to sing, I'm going to sing it in a big way."
"I want everyone to know that I, Lu Cheng, am standing on this stage in Tianjin."
"If they dare to arrest me, then let them come to this theater to arrest me in front of all the people of Tianjin and in front of reporters from all over the world."
Lu Cheng turned his head, and a faint golden light flickered in his eyes.
"I'd like to see if their guns are faster."
"My Overlord Spear is still the toughest."
Two days later.
The Chinese Theatre was brightly lit and bustling with activity.
The people of Tianjin are known for their boldness and love of watching a spectacle.
Despite the tense atmosphere outside, with rumors of the Japanese arresting people everywhere, tickets for the Chinese Grand Theatre were still being sold at exorbitant prices and were extremely difficult to obtain.
Why?
Because tonight is the grand finale of the Qingyun Troupe's performance in Tianjin—"Dingjun Mountain"!
Starring: Lu Cheng.
This was the first time Lu Cheng had personally taken the lead and appeared on stage since arriving in Tianjin.
Moreover, rumors circulate that the "living Yama" who massacred Dengying Tower was very likely Master Lu.
Who wouldn't want to see what kind of performance this legendary killer is like on stage?
-
"Oh my goodness, look at this scene! Even the chief detective of the French Concession has come to the private box to watch the show."
"That's right. I heard that those short Japanese guys also sent plainclothes officers in, just waiting to arrest people."
The audience was buzzing with discussion, the atmosphere tense like a taut string that could snap at any moment.
Backstage.
Lu Cheng sat in front of the dressing table, while Lao Guantou carefully applied the makeup to his face, which resembled that of an old man.
Huang Zhong, old but vigorous, with a white beard.
"Master————"
Shunzi stood to the side, his waist bulging with weapons. Lu Feng, on the other hand, gripped his knife hilt, his wolf-like eyes fixed on the people entering the backstage area.
They all knew that tonight's performance was extraordinary.
Hidden beneath the stage, danger lurks.
"What's the panic?"
Lu Cheng closed his eyes and let Lao Guan apply paint to his face.
"The people in the audience are there to watch the show. We are the performers; serving our guests well is our duty."
"Don't worry. As soon as the drums and gongs sound, this theater is ours."
"Thump—Clang!"
The drums and gongs that signaled the start of the performance began.
This is the most classic opening of "Dingjun Mountain".
Lu Cheng slowly stood up, and Old Guan quickly draped the bright yellow robe embroidered with a golden dragon over him.
"Grow a beard."
With the addition of that snow-white, three-strand beard, Lu Cheng's aura instantly changed.
He was no longer that gentle young man, but had become a seasoned veteran, an old general who commanded respect without anger.
He carried the Azure Dragon Blade and walked with steady, mountain-like steps toward the side of the stage.
"General."
With a loud song, the curtain rose.
Lu Cheng stepped onto the stage.
"boom!!!"
The grand theater, which housed over three thousand people, erupted in cheers that seemed to lift the roof off.
"good!!!"
"Master Lu is mighty!"
Lu Cheng stood in the center of the stage, ignoring the deafening cheers.
He slightly raised his head, his phoenix eyes half-closed and half-open, revealing Huang Zhong's shrewdness and his own disdain.
"This letter came at just the right time."
Lu Cheng spoke up.
This is the most challenging line to master in the old male role (laosheng) genre.
He didn't use any fancy techniques, but directly used the internal energy of a master of internal energy transformation.
The sound, like a grand bell, burst forth from the depths of his chest, overwhelming the deafening gongs and drums and the clamor of the entire venue.
His voice carried a deep, weathered quality, and a robust, unyielding spirit.
The Japanese plainclothes officers in the front row, who had been huddled in their chairs with menacing looks, were so shocked by the shout that their eardrums rang and their hearts involuntarily quickened.
They looked at the imposing "old general" on the stage, their palms sweating as they gripped the gun.
Arrest them?
In front of three thousand fanatical Tianjin residents, how could they capture this living martial saint?
They dare not.
Even if they have guns, they can't guarantee they can take the person away before being torn to pieces by the angry mob.
The play continues.
On stage, Lu Cheng's every move was textbook-perfect, yet he also exuded a captivating charm.
The wooden broadsword was wielded with such skill and precision that even the audience in the front row could feel a chill.
"What an old man, what a clever trick to drag his knife."
A knowledgeable veteran opera enthusiast in the audience was so moved that tears welled up in his eyes.
Just as the song "Dingjun Mountain" reached its climax with the scene of Xiahou Yuan's execution.
The door to the private room on the second floor was suddenly kicked open violently.
A squad of heavily armed Japanese military police, led by an officer with the rank of major, stormed in menacingly.
"Baka! Don't move! The Imperial Japanese Army is arresting anti-Japanese elements!"
This caused an immediate uproar in the theater.
The woman screamed, and the child cried.
Those local bullies who usually acted arrogantly all shrank back at this moment.
The Japanese soldiers' bayonets gleamed with a cold, sharp light.
The major walked to the second-floor railing, pulled out his pistol, and pointed it directly at Lu Cheng in the center of the stage.
"You actor on stage, you are suspected of murdering a soldier of the Great Japanese Empire. Immediately lay down your weapons and surrender."
The major roared in broken Chinese, his voice echoing through the panicked theater.
Backstage, Shunzi and Lu Feng had already drawn their knives, ready to rush out and fight to the death.
But Lu Cheng didn't move.
He stood in the center of the stage, his yellow outfit gleaming under the lights.
He did not put down the large knife in his hand.
He didn't stop performing.
He simply turned around slowly, raised his head, and his eyes, painted with the makeup of an old man, coldly looked at the Japanese major in the private room on the second floor.
"Cang—Cai—"
Ignoring the dark muzzle of the gun, Lu Cheng sang in a theatrical voice, with perfect enunciation and powerful breath: "You cowards, how dare you disturb my tent?!"
This entire song was sung using the [Tiger and Leopard Thunder Sound].
The sound echoed in the theater, so loudly that the Japanese major's eardrums throbbed, and he subconsciously took half a step back.
Lu Cheng's Green Dragon Blade suddenly stopped.
"when!"
The wooden floorboards made a loud bang.
"I am Huang Zhong, a general of the Han Dynasty."
"On this stage stands my Dingjun Mountain."
"The play isn't over yet, the actors won't leave."
"If you want to take me, wait until the curtain falls."
A murderous intent, undisguised, flashed in Lu Cheng's eyes.
This killing intent, amplified by the aura of a Grandmaster of Internal Energy, pressed down on the second floor as if it were a tangible force.
The Japanese major felt his breath catch in his throat, as if he were being stared at by a prehistoric beast. His hand gripping the gun trembled violently, and he couldn't pull the trigger.
"good!!!"
"Well sung, and with backbone!"
The people of Tianjin in the audience were completely ignited by this heroic spirit.
It's unclear who started it, but thousands of people stood up in unison.
Instead of scattering and fleeing, they kept their eyes fixed on the Japanese soldiers on the second floor.
The law does not punish the masses, and public opinion is overwhelming.
Under the gaze of more than three thousand angry eyes, even the arrogant Japanese military police felt their scalps tingle.
If they dare to fire, these three thousand-plus people will absolutely tear them apart alive.
The major swallowed hard, his face turning ashen, but he ultimately didn't dare to fire.
"Good for you—you've got guts."
"I'll wait until you finish singing!"
With a wave of his hand, the major ordered the military police to guard all the exits and keep a close watch on the stage.
Lu Cheng withdrew his gaze.
He turned around and took a deep breath.
The erhu began to play again.
Lu Cheng stood before thousands of tearful eyes.
Surrounded by dozens of dark gun barrels.
With flowing grace and majestic power, the last line of "Dingjun Mountain" was sung.
The curtain slowly fell amidst thunderous applause and cries of despair.
It shielded the audience from the gun barrels.
It also obscured the proud figure of Xiang Yu, the Hegemon-King of Western Chu, standing on the stage.
"Master."
As soon as the curtain closed, Shunzi and the others rushed forward, their eyes bloodshot and their hands holding sharp blades.
"Let's fight them."
Lu Cheng did not remove his makeup.
He ripped off his snow-white beard and took off his heavy yellow coat.
Inside, he was dressed in a sleek black night outfit.
He took out the "Hundred-Refined Ghost Hand" from his waist and tied the flying locust stone to his leg.
"spell?"
"This is a theater; we can't let the people get hurt."
-
He walked to a hidden ventilation window backstage.
"If I, Lu Cheng, want to leave, no one in this world can stop me."
"Shunzi, lead your fellow disciples through the secret passage in the cellar to the dock. Master Yuan's ship is waiting for you there."
"Master, where are you?!" Lu Feng asked anxiously.
Lu Cheng pushed open the small window.
Outside the window, the night sky over Tianjin was deep and dark.
"I?"
Lu Cheng turned around, and a smile appeared on his face, which was painted with the makeup of an old man.
"I'll go and see them off in their final moments."
Before he finished speaking, Lu Cheng transformed into a black shadow, like a night hawk, and darted out of the window, instantly disappearing into the night.
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