Republic of China era: Actor? Please call me Martial Arts Master!

Chapter 183 You want me to accept my condolences?

The spring breeze of Beijing blew through the old locust grove outside the overpass.

The news of Chen Heting's crushing defeat as deputy director of the Jinling Martial Arts Academy spread like wildfire throughout the country overnight.

A dignified Grandmaster of the Marrow Cleansing Stage 3, dressed in an official royal robe, came to Beiping City to show off his power.

As it turned out, Master Lu didn't even use his internal energy or move an inch. He manipulated the three imperial instructors as if they were his grandsons.

In the end, he used only one move, "Tiger Climbing the Mountain," to beat Chen Heting so badly that his tendons and bones were broken, and he slunk out of Beiping City in disgrace.

This isn't just a slap in the face; it's like tearing down the signboard of the Jinling Martial Arts Academy, throwing it on the ground, and stomping on it until it's a complete mess.

From that day on, the martial arts school at Tianqiao Training Ground, with its plaque bearing the four characters "National Martial Arts Under Heaven," became the "ancestral home" in the hearts of millions of martial arts practitioners in the north.

In the early morning, the sun had just shone on the bluestone slabs of Qianmen Street.

Outside the two heavy black doors of the martial arts school, the scene was beyond description as "bustling with activity".

Two silver dollars a bag of flour was too expensive for ordinary people.

But this martial arts school, which doesn't charge tuition and only seeks true martial arts skills, became the only hope for the poor people in this chaotic world.

"Sir, someone has come from outside."

Old Zhang, the gatekeeper, jogged into the backyard.

Lu Cheng was lying on a bamboo rocking chair under the eaves, covered with a plain white silk shirt.

She was holding a cup of jasmine tea that was about eight-tenths full.

The tea was cheap, costing only two cents a packet, but in his hands, he managed to taste the refined elegance of pre-rain Longjing tea.

"Another one seeking apprenticeship? Let Senior Zhang go to the front yard to examine their bones and assess their potential." Lu Cheng didn't even lift his eyelids.

No—no.

Old Zhang swallowed hard.

"It's Master Li from the Iron Fist Gym, who has brought over fifty of his direct disciples, all of whom are skilled in internal and external martial arts."

"They said—they said they came to seek refuge with you."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Li Sanye, dressed in a gray cloth jacket and shorts, stepped through the hanging flower gate.

This old boxing master, whose every stomp in Beijing could shake the city, showed no airs of a martial arts master at this moment.

He walked three steps away from Lu Cheng's rocking chair, clasped his hands together, lifted the hem of his long robe, and knelt down on one knee.

"Master Lu".

Third Master Li said.

"Our Iron Fist School is willing to merge into the World Martial Arts Association." From this day forward, there will be no more Iron Fist Schools, only the instructors of the World Martial Arts Association.

Shunzi and Lu Feng, who were practicing martial arts in the courtyard, stopped simultaneously and gasped in shock.

They surrendered with their embassy in tow!

This is an unprecedented event in the martial arts world, tantamount to handing over the entire legacy passed down from their ancestors.

Lu Cheng slowly opened his eyes, and his [Exquisite Heart] illuminated the Five Aggregates.

"Master Li, the Iron Fist Gym is the culmination of half your life's work, how could it come to this?"

"Master Lu, you went to Tianjin alone to save the pillar of North China from dire straits."

"7

"He preached again at the Temple of Heaven, wishing that everyone in the world could become like a dragon."

Li Sanye's eyes were slightly red.

"I've finally figured it out. In this chaotic world of guns and cannons, if we keep clinging to our narrow-mindedness and prejudices, we'll be crushed by this world sooner or later."

"It's good to take shelter under a big tree. With you by my side, the true energy of Chinese martial arts will not dissipate."

Lu Cheng put down his teacup and stood up. He nodded slightly in acceptance of the greeting.

"Very well. Since Third Master has such a noble sentiment, the Tianxia Guoshu Academy will reserve a chair for him."

This is just the beginning.

Three days later, several rickshaws stopped in front of the martial arts school.

Those who came down were four world-renowned Grandmasters of Transformation Force: Shang Yunxiang, Liu Wenhua, Gong Yu, and Old Master Han.

They strolled into the martial arts school, dressed in long robes and mandarin jackets.

"Brother Lu, we old folks are getting bored at home. We heard you need some help?"

Shang Yunxiang smiled.

He directly hung a wooden sign that read "Shangpai Xingyi" on the instructors' list of the martial arts school in front of hundreds of students.

"The four of us old guys have discussed it and decided that starting today, we'll be nominal instructors at your [Tianxia Guoshu] Martial Arts Academy."

"Every five or ten days, we take turns giving these little brats a big lesson."

"I'm so happy," said Mr. Liu Wenhua, stroking his beard.

boom!

This caused an uproar throughout Beijing.

The four great masters of internal energy gathered together, willingly playing supporting roles.

With Lu Cheng, this peerless villain who is halfway to the Dan realm, how can this [Tianxia Guoshu] Hall still be considered a folk martial arts school?

This is simply a sacred place for martial arts!

This united force is no less than that of a warlord.

Even if the regular army from Nanjing came, they would have to think twice about whether they could withstand the "decapitation strike" by these five old monsters.

Over the next two weeks, the martial arts world in Beiping underwent a complete transformation.

Baguazhang master Gong Yu and Taiji master Yang Chengfu, among others, also followed suit.

For a time, the Tianxia Martial Arts Academy was filled with masters of the Transformation Realm and experts at the peak of the Dark Realm, who were willing to serve as ordinary instructors in the courtyard.

All for the sake of being able to get a trace of the Great Dao's energy by the side of this living immortal who is halfway to the Core Formation stage.

The combined power of these forces is terrifying.

Tens of thousands of ordinary people became apprentices, hundreds of internal strength martial arts masters were trained, and several grandmasters of external strength were stationed there.

It also had the financial backing of Master Yuan of the Green Gang and the Huo family of Tianjin.

This is no longer a simple martial arts school, but a terrifying behemoth in this chaotic world.

In the military governor's mansion in Beiping, Marshal Xing suffered from insomnia every night, staring in the direction of Tianqiao, feeling a chill run down his spine.

In late spring and early summer, the rain in Jiangnan is continuous and dense.

Jinling City, Song Mansion.

This vast, secluded mansion was now filled with white banners.

In the center of the mourning hall in the main hall, there was a fine coffin made of Phoebe zhennan wood.

Song Peilun was dressed in black mourning clothes, and his usually well-maintained face looked as if he had aged ten years in an instant.

He stared at the emaciated corpse in the coffin.

That was his only son, Song Ziqi.

Three months.

It had been exactly three months since Lu Cheng struck his lower back with that "Blood-Severing Technique" at the Tianjin flour factory, leaving him with no more, no less, exactly three months.

During these three months, Song Peilun spent a fortune hiring the best Western doctors in the concession, using the most expensive penicillin on the market, and even invited Taoist priests from Longhu Mountain to perform rituals.

But it was all in vain.

Song Ziqi was like a tree that had been drained of its moisture, its internal organs groaning day and night in a state of atrophy that modern medicine could not explain.

Finally, in pain and despair, he breathed his last.

He died a very tragic death, leaving not even a single intact piece of dough behind.

"Lu, Cheng————"

Song Peilun's fingers dug so hard into the wood at the edge of the coffin that his nails split and blood seeped out, but he was completely unaware.

"Sir, please accept my condolences."

The adjutant nervously handed over a hot towel.

"Please accept my condolences?"

Song Peilun suddenly turned around.

"My son died, and you're telling me to grieve in moderation?"

He overturned the offering table next to him, scattering fruits and offerings all over the ground.

"Lu Cheng opened a martial arts school in Beiping City, and was revered by thousands as a living god."

"My son can only lie in this cold coffin, not even left with a complete body!"

Song Peilun's chest heaved violently.

Using political means and the military to suppress Lu Cheng is no longer an option.

Chen Heting's crushing defeat and the rise of Tianqiao Martial Arts School made the higher-ups in Jinling unwilling to easily provoke this half-step Dan-level killing god again.

To deal with such monsters that transcend worldly rules, you can only use monster methods.

"go."

Song Peilun turned his head and said to his adjutant.

"Have you taken care of those two boxes of small yellow croakers I asked you to take to Southeast Asia?"

The adjutant trembled and immediately lowered his head.

"Reporting to Master, it's done."

"That sir—has already arrived outside Jinling City. However, he's acting strangely, saying he sees no living people—"

"As long as he can kill Lu Cheng, I don't care if he turns this entire city of Jinling upside down," Song Peilun said through gritted teeth.

three days later.

A black cargo ship from Southeast Asia quietly docked at the Tianjin pier.

A person walked down from the thin mist of the night.

The man was wearing a large black robe and a hood, and he was so thin that he looked like a piece of dead wood.

Wherever he walked, the grass that had just sprouted from the cracks in the paving stones quickly withered and turned yellow.

The reclusive master of martial arts—"Poison King" Li Sang!

This person is not a member of the orthodox martial arts world of the Central Plains, but rather a heretical and evil practitioner who drifted to Southeast Asia in his early years.

He perfectly combined the sorcery of Southeast Asia with the internal martial arts' transformative power, creating a unique and extremely vicious "Gu Poison Internal Skill".

.

The internal martial arts of the Central Plains emphasize the balance of Qi and blood, like lead and mercury, and the combination of hardness and softness.

His neutralizing power, however, is achieved by using poison to nourish one's internal energy, specifically targeting the pure internal energy of internal martial arts.

Even the most flawless Grandmaster of Internal Energy would be instantly corroded and exposed if touched even slightly by his poisonous energy.

"Hehehe————"

Two strange laughs came from under the hood.

Li Sang raised her head and looked in the direction of Beiping City.

"The blood and qi of a half-step Core Formation cultivator—if I can refine it into a medicinal catalyst, my Gu King will be fully formed."

The rainy season in Beiping always arrives a little late.

Early morning, in the backyard of the Lu residence.

Shunzi, clutching several newspapers soaked by the rain, rushed into the corridor, panting and his face ashen.

"Master, these sons of bitches, these traitorous intellectuals, they—they've gone too far!"

Lu Cheng was sitting upright at his rosewood desk, holding a wolf-hair brush, slowly and methodically copying a tattered book onto Xuan paper—

The script.

Rainwater gathered into beads along the eaves, dripping softly.

"Impatient and restless."

Lu Cheng didn't look up. With a flick of his wrist, the brush made its final stroke on the rice paper, the force penetrating the paper.

"Is the sky falling down?"

"Master, please see for yourself."

Shunzi slammed the newspapers onto the blank space on the table with a "thud".

Those were some of the largest-circulation tabloids in Beiping, usually reporting on everyday gossip, but they were very popular among rickshaw pullers and laborers at the bottom of society.

Today's front page headlines are entirely dominated by striking bold black text.

Shocking! The Sordid Deal Behind the Shining Light of Chinese Martial Arts: Lu Cheng a Spy for Japan's Special Higher Police!

Exposing the Source of Funding for the Tianqiao Martial Arts School: A Facade for Traitors!

The truth behind the theft of national treasures in Fengtai Daying District has come to light: a living martial arts master who cried "Stop thief!"

Lu Cheng put down his brush, his gaze sweeping lightly over the sensational headlines, his expression remaining completely calm.

The newspaper article was written in great detail, and even included several blurry black and white photos.

In the photo, a man in white who looks remarkably like Lu Cheng is having a "secret meeting" with several Japanese people dressed in kimonos in a teahouse.

The article asserts with certainty that Lu Cheng's actions in Tianjin were nothing more than a charade staged in collaboration with the Japanese.

The reason he was able to "go to the meeting alone" and escape unscathed was that he had secretly sold a batch of smuggled national treasures to the Black Dragon Society in exchange for the Japanese concessions and a huge sum of money to build a martial arts school.

Even his previous act of giving away his entire fortune to help disaster victims was smeared as a sinister plot to "buy people's hearts with the dirty money of the Japanese and subvert the political situation in North China."

"Master, this is clearly the work of Commander Xing and that new head of the Japanese Special Higher Police."

Lu Feng also walked in from outside, his face full of murderous intent.

"The outside world is in complete chaos right now."

"On Qianmen Street, a group of thugs suddenly appeared out of nowhere and spread rumors everywhere."

"Some uninformed people actually—actually believed it! This morning, our martial arts school was even splattered with dog blood and rotten vegetable leaves!"

Rumors are the softest yet sharpest knife in the world.

Ordinary people have limited horizons and don't know how to use their brains.

They can elevate you to a pedestal with a bowl of hot porridge, or drag you down into the mire with a few forged newspaper articles.

"To kill someone is to destroy their spirit—"

Old man Zhang Sanjia, who had been sitting next to me smoking a pipe, tapped his pipe.

"Young Lu, this is a classic case of public opinion killing people."

"7

"They can't beat you openly, so they resort to these underhanded tactics to vent the anger you've built up in Beijing."

"Once the people's morale collapses, your martial arts school's reputation will be ruined."

"By then, even if you possess extraordinary martial arts skills, in the eyes of the common people, you will be nothing more than a traitor who sells out his master for personal gain, and everyone will want to kill you."

Zhang Sanjia looked at Lu Cheng with a worried expression and sighed.

This psychological test of being "condemned by everyone" is more torturous than facing cannons and machine guns.

In the year of Gengzi (1900), countless patriotic warriors did not die under the guns of foreigners, but died from the incomprehension and spittle of their own compatriots, dying a bitter and humiliating death.

Looking at the newspapers filled with vicious curses, Lu Cheng felt no anger whatsoever. Instead, he picked up the slightly cooled pre-rain Longjing tea from the table and took a small sip.

"This tea, once it's cooled down, has become a bit more astringent."

He turned his head, looked at his disciples who were trembling with anger, and a nonchalant smile appeared on his lips.

"You can't even handle this?"

Lu Cheng stood up, put his hands behind his back, and walked to the eaves, looking at the torrential rain pouring down in the courtyard.

As the saying goes in traditional operas: "Water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it."

"The minds of ordinary people are like the mud and water in this yard; they get muddy when the wind blows and chaotic when the rain hits them."

He turned around, and his exquisite mind revealed the five aggregates.

Those eyes revealed a clarity and domineering power that transcended worldly praise and blame.

"If the audience below starts making a fuss, the performers on stage must not lose their composure."

"Let the bullets fly a little longer."