activa-t Chapter 102 Explosion and Jamming, True Dragon Purple Luck, Heaven Won't Take My Life!
Chapter 102 Explosion and Jamming, True Dragon Purple Luck, Heaven Won't Take My Life!
Chapter 103 A sudden jam, a true dragon's luck, even the heavens won't take my life! (5k)
"Smack."
The enormous human head rolled over the edge of the stage and, without veering off course, struck the very tip of Commander Zhang's gleaming military boots.
The sound was not loud, but muffled.
Thick, sticky blood smeared the surface of the shoes, trickling down the leather boots and staining the blue bricks below red.
Chiba's pupils had dilated, but he still stared straight up, meeting Commander Zhang's gaze as he looked down.
Eyes facing each other.
Commander Zhang's fleshy face instantly changed from rosy to deathly pale, and then from deathly pale to ashen.
His legs cramped up, becoming as limp as noodles, and he didn't dare to move an inch.
It's not that I don't want to move, it's that I can't.
The entire room fell silent.
The deathly silence was heavy and oppressive, making it hard to breathe.
three seconds.
Just three seconds.
Then, it was like pouring a ladle of ice water into a pot of boiling oil.
"boom-!!!"
The Tianqiao Theater exploded.
This sound was not applause, but a roar, a howl.
It was the pent-up anger of the people of Beijing, young and old, that had been building up for far too long, which was finally released in this moment through the splattering blood.
The sound surged from the first floor to the second floor, crashed into the dome, and bounced back, causing dust to fall from the beams.
"good-!!"
"Well done—!!"
"That's what real men are like, that's the backbone of the Chinese people."
On the second-floor stands, it's unclear who started it.
He threw the teapot, melon seed plate, and peanut dish he was holding onto the stage with a clatter.
Immediately afterwards, silver dollars, copper coins, silver rings, and even an old lady took off her jade bracelet and threw it down like rain.
That's not a reward.
That's respect, a heartfelt respect, the most basic recognition from ordinary people.
You stood up for us, so we consider you one of our own.
The stage was quickly covered with a layer of shimmering "rain," sparkling under the gas lamps.
However, just as the crowd was getting excited, several murderous intents quietly emerged.
The crowd was in disarray, making it the perfect time to take advantage of the chaos.
In the shadows of the northwest corner on the second floor.
A man wearing a top hat pulled very low, the brim of which covered half his face, revealing only a thin chin.
His hands were always tucked into his pockets.
He had a Browning M1900 rifle already loaded in his arms, the gun warm from his body heat.
He was a backup plan arranged by Commander Zhang.
Originally, they were afraid that if Lu Cheng lost, the peasants from the Iron Fist Gym and Simin Martial Arts Club, who were on good terms with him, would become enraged and start injuring people on the spot.
Now, however, it has become a dead end that must be eliminated.
"Without Lu Cheng's death, the Commander-in-Chief will not be at peace."
The gunman muttered to himself.
Taking advantage of the gap in the cheers of the front-row audience, he leaned forward, and the dark muzzle of his gun peeked out from between the shoulders of the two people in front of him.
The crosshair locked onto the brow of the red-faced Guan Yu on the stage, who stood proudly with one hand holding a knife.
The distance is less than thirty meters.
At this distance, a sharpshooter like him, who had practiced target shooting at the Baoding Military Academy, could hit the target even with his eyes closed.
"Go to hell."
The gunman's lips curled into a sinister smile as his index finger steadily slipped onto the trigger.
at the same time.
Behind the curtain on the left side of the stage, a Black Dragon Society ronin dressed in a kimono with a short sword at his waist also drew his modified short-barreled shotgun.
He sawed off a section of the barrel and loaded it with large shotgun shells, enough to smash half a door with a single shot.
He crouched in the shadows, the muzzle of his gun slightly raised, aimed at Lu Cheng's back.
A two-pronged approach.
This is a dead end.
That was also a decisive blow.
On stage, Lu Cheng seemed completely unaware.
He maintained that "dragging knife" posture.
The tip of the Green Dragon Crescent Blade trailed behind him, the hilt resting on the ground, his body leaning slightly forward.
His eyes were half-open, his phoenix eyes narrowed into slits, which was the spirit of Lord Guan, and also a contempt for the ghosts and demons of this world.
But at the very moment those two fingers simultaneously pulled the trigger.
A sudden change occurred.
"Click".
The gunman on the second floor felt his index finger freeze.
The expected gunshot did not ring out; the trigger was only pulled halfway before it jammed.
Is it stuck?
This is a genuine German-made Browning.
He takes better care of himself than his own father, and he always takes it apart after use and wipes it three times with deerskin dipped in gun oil. How could it possibly malfunction at this critical moment?
The gunman panicked, and cold sweat instantly rolled down his forehead.
It stung my eyes when it got in.
He frantically tried to eject the magazine and reload, but his fingers trembled uncontrollably.
Just then, an excited, chubby opera enthusiast next to him, shouting so loudly, suddenly swung his arm.
"Boss Lu is awesome!!"
"Bang!"
The big, fat elbow slammed solidly into the gunman's wrist.
The pistol flew out of his hand, traced an arc in the air, and landed with a "thud" in the middle of the corridor in the lobby on the first floor.
The black gun stood out starkly under the gas lamp.
"Ah—, there are guns! There are guns!!"
A scream came from the surrounding crowd, and the cheering crowd instantly erupted into chaos.
Countless angry eyes turned to that corner on the second floor.
"Who?! Who brought a gun?!"
"I understand, it must be a traitor trying to assassinate me."
The crowd began to push towards the second floor. The gunman turned pale and tried to run away, but was blocked in a corner by the crowd.
at the same time.
The Japanese ronin in the side curtain wasn't much better.
The moment he pulled the trigger, the short-barreled shotgun, whether due to dampness, too much gunpowder, or simply divine intervention, was in disarray.
"boom-!!"
A muffled thud.
It wasn't the sound of a bullet being fired, but rather—a barrel explosion!
The gun barrel exploded.
The shattered metal fragments flew everywhere like a torrential rain, instantly slicing off half of the ronin's hand, and half of his face was blackened by the gunpowder, his eyebrows and beard burned off completely.
"ah--!!!"
A piercing scream echoed through the theater, exceptionally loud.
The ronin covered his face and rolled around on the ground, blood gushing out from between his fingers, quickly staining a patch of the floor red.
This sudden turn of events stunned everyone.
The stage and the audience fell silent for a moment.
Only the ronin's wailing continued.
Several seconds passed before someone came to their senses and said in a trembling voice.
"Did it explode? Did it jam?"
"My God! This... this is Lord Guan manifesting his power!"
"Boss Lu is protected by divine light; he's impervious to swords and spears, and immune to all magic!"
If the decapitation strike just now was a display of martial arts skill, then what is happening now, in the eyes of ordinary people, is a "miracle."
There is a predetermined fate in the universe.
Those who try to shoot from the shadows will not be allowed by God.
Lu Cheng remained standing on the stage.
He didn't even turn his head, nor did he lift his eyelids.
But deep within his phoenix eyes, that golden light was even more profound.
[Seek good fortune and avoid misfortune].
He had sensed those two faint killing intents long before half an incense stick had burned.
It smelled like rats in a sewer, foul and pungent.
But he didn't move.
Because behind that murderous intent, he "saw" two wisps of deathly gray energy coiling around the heads of the two men.
That's a sign of impending bad luck; it's as black as purple.
The sins of Heaven may be forgiven, but the sins of oneself are unforgivable.
"snort."
Lu Cheng let out a soft hum from his nose, which carried out with the force of that "momentum".
"To attack someone with a sneak attack is the behavior of a coward."
"Guan's blade does not slay nameless ghosts."
He flicked his wrist.
The Green Dragon Crescent Blade drew an arc in the air, the blood droplets on the blade were flung away, and with a "clang," the hilt slammed heavily on the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
That imposing presence and domineering aura completely silenced the restless minds of those in the audience.
First row.
Commander Zhang's face was as black as the bottom of a pot.
-
He stared at Browning lying in the aisle, and listened to the screams coming from backstage; his back teeth were practically grinding to powder.
"Useless, a bunch of useless trash."
He roared inwardly, but dared not show it on his face.
If he were to admit that they were his men at this point, these thousands of enraged civilians would strip him of his military uniform and tear him apart alive without feeling satisfied.
"Zhang Sang!"
The Japanese consul, Sato, standing nearby, looked even more displeased.
He stared intently at Chiba Zan's corpse on the stage.
No, it's not a complete corpse anymore; the body is still on the platform, but the head is at Commander Zhang's feet.
The eyes on that human head were still open, the pupils reflecting the light of the gas lamp, as if mocking the incompetence of the Great Japanese Empire.
"Is this what you call security?"
"To murder a samurai of the Great Japanese Empire in full view of everyone is a provocation, a declaration of war!"
Sato suddenly stood up, his hand on the sword at his waist.
"I want to protest to the Nanjing government! I want the army to surround this place and capture this murderer—"
"Mr. Sato!"
A gruff voice, tinged with schadenfreude, came from the side.
General Ma, wearing a black sable coat, slowly stood up, a Havana cigar dangling from his mouth, his face showing the look of a rogue soldier amidst the swirling smoke.
"You can eat whatever you want, but you can't say whatever you want."
General Ma pointed to the banner that was split in two on the stage, holding a cigar.
The four characters "中日亲善" (Sino-Japanese Friendship) are split in the middle.
"Today is a Sino-Japanese martial arts exchange," a written agreement, signed in black and white, outlining the terms of the agreement.
"Since it's a martial arts competition, we must follow the rules of the martial world. Swords and spears have no eyes, and life and death are determined by fate."
"Your samurai was less skilled and was cut down with one blow. That's because he wasn't good enough, so you can't blame anyone else."
"If you shout for war and killing when you lose, that's a sore loser and it's tasteless."
General Ma looked around and raised his voice a few decibels.
"Besides, everyone heard those two sounds just now."
"Someone tried to snipe me, and what happened? Even God couldn't stand it and just blew the barrel open!"
"What does this mean? It means that Instructor Lu is truly destined for greatness, and is protected by divine intervention!"
"You want to mobilize troops now? Ask these thousands of men, young and old, if they agree! Ask the Independent Brigade with broadswords behind me if they agree!!"
"roar-!!!"
Behind General Ma, dozens of burly men carrying large swords roared in unison as they rolled across the theater.
They were all bald, with bulging temples, and their hands were on the hilts of their knives. As soon as Commander Ma gave the order, they could start chopping people down.
The audience below the stage also joined in the commotion.
"No way!"
"Get out, you little devils!"
"Anyone who dares to touch Grandmaster Lu, we'll fight them to the death!"
The sentiment is exciting.
That surge of public sentiment forced Sato to take two steps back, his face turning pale and then flushed, his lips trembling, yet he couldn't utter a word.
General Ma exhaled a smoke ring, his eyes suddenly turning cold.
"If you want this Tianqiao Theater to become another May 3rd Massacre scene, then even though I, Ma Linyuan, am a rough man and haven't had much schooling, I'll have to put up with you."
"By then, this matter will have spread to Nanjing, to the international stage, with photos published in newspapers and telegrams flying everywhere—"
"I suppose your time as a military officer is coming to an end?"
This is a blatant threat.
It's also about using righteousness to pressure people.
Although the situation is tense, a full-scale war has not yet broken out, and the Japanese dare not massacre civilians in broad daylight.
If this were to incite a popular uprising, even the Japanese consulate would be unable to contain it.
"well!"
Sato gritted his teeth and squeezed out two words.
He gave Lu Cheng on the stage a long look.
That figure, with a red face and green robe, stood holding a knife, pressing down on his heart like a mountain, heavy and suffocating.
"The Great Japanese Empire will remember what happened today."
"Let's go!"
With a wave of his hand, Sato sent several Japanese soldiers slinking onto the stage. They wrapped Chiba's body in a white cloth, picked up the severed head, and fled in a sorry state amidst the boos, curses, and spittle of the crowd.
Seeing this, Commander Zhang could no longer sit still.
He glared at Lu Cheng fiercely, then looked at the pistol on the ground.
A child was about to pick it up when an adult pulled him back.
Commander Zhang kicked the pistol away, and it slid a long way before hitting the leg of a chair with a loud bang.
He snorted coldly and hurriedly left with his guards.
Staying in this place for even a second longer means losing face for another second.
As the warlords and Japanese left, the atmosphere in the theater finally reached its climax.
Lu Cheng stood on the stage without saying anything more.
He slowly, very slowly, lifted the Green Dragon Crescent Blade from the ground and held it horizontally in front of his chest.
Stroking his beard with his left hand is Guan Yu's signature gesture.
He held the knife in his right hand, the blade pointing outwards, its cold light gleaming.
This is the most classic Guan Yu appearance—【Holding his sword and riding a horse】.
But at this moment.
This appearance, however, was given a completely new meaning.
The light from the gas lamp shone on him, his green robe and golden armor reflecting the light, his red face as majestic as a god, and the "Qingyun Troupe" flag behind him fluttered in the wind without any wind.
"Master Lu—!!!"
Below the stage, countless people were moved to tears, their voices hoarse from shouting, their hands red from clapping, yet they continued to clap with all their might.
The show ended, and the crowd dispersed.
Outside the Tianqiao Theater, layers upon layers of firecracker debris covered the snow, their red color creating a festive atmosphere.
The neighbors distributed it spontaneously, saying it was to ward off bad luck and bring good fortune to Boss Lu.
But the backstage area of Qingyun Troupe was not as noisy as expected.
After stepping down from the stage, Lu Cheng's first action was neither to accept the flattery of his apprentices nor to socialize with the powerful and influential people who offered him gifts.
Remove makeup and cleanse face.
His voice was a little hoarse; it was from shouting "Give me your life!" earlier, and his throat felt like he had swallowed a handful of sand.
Shunzi had already prepared hot water and towels; the water in the copper basin was steaming, and the towels were snow-white.
Lu Cheng sat in front of the peeling paint on the dressing table, looking at his reflection in the mirror—a face as red as a jujube, eyebrows like silkworms.
The oil paint was thick, like wearing a mask.
But beneath the mask, the divine light in those eyes was slowly fading.
That "divine" quality was gradually fading from his face as the paint was wiped away.
Applying a hot towel to your face, the steam seeps into your pores, so comfortable it makes you want to sigh.
Lu Cheng closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled.
The [Toad-Catching Strength] within his body slowly circulated, gradually suppressing the boiling blood and qi caused by the killing back into his dantian.
My heartbeat, which had been pounding like a drum, slowly returned to a steady thud.
That "Lord Guan" has slowly passed away.
What remains is still Lu Cheng, a flesh-and-blood man who gets tired, hungry, hurt, and injured.
"Master."
Shunzi tiptoed over, carrying a cup of hot tea with loquat and rock sugar added, perfect for soothing the throat.
The teacup was made of coarse porcelain with a small chip on the rim, but it was wiped clean.
"Outside—General Ma sent someone to say that he wants to hold a celebration banquet with one hundred tables at Fengzeyuan and invites you to attend."
"And reporters from all the major newspapers are blocking the door, with their long lenses and microphones, saying they want to do an exclusive interview with you. Even the foreigners from the North China Daily News are here, saying they want to take photos to publish in foreign newspapers."
Lu Cheng took the tea, blew away the foam, and took a sip.
The warm tea flowed down my throat, carrying the unique smoothness of the loquat and the sweetness of rock sugar, taking away a trace of fatigue.
"It's cancelled."
Lu Cheng put down his teacup and began to loosen the soft cushions on his body.
Those were the cotton pads worn under the robes on stage, heavy and soaked with sweat, to support the body.
"Just say I'm tired and my energy is depleted."
"What about Commander Ma's side—"
Shunzi was still a little hesitant. "Lieutenant Li is still waiting outside for a reply—saying that the Marshal is sincere and has invited some prominent figures from Beiping to accompany him."
Lu Cheng didn't answer, but slowly unbuttoned the last button.
The heavy, soft armchair fell to the ground with a "whoosh," revealing the sweat-soaked undergarment underneath.
He picked up a towel and slowly wiped the sweat from his neck, remaining silent for a moment.
"Go and tell Lieutenant Li," he said gently.
"I, Lu Chengxin, appreciate General Ma's kindness."
"But at this juncture, if I were to attend the banquet in a high-profile manner and sit at the same table with the officers of the army, it might attract criticism from the commander-in-chief if it were seen as an order from the army, which would change the nature of the matter."
He paused, his gaze calm.
"This victory celebration is to celebrate the unwavering spirit of the people of Beiping, not to give anyone any prestige. I appreciate the Marshal's kindness. But given the current situation, it's best to avoid unnecessary trouble."
"Just tell them I'm exhausted from fighting the epidemic and need to rest and recuperate. I will definitely visit you in person another day to express my gratitude."
After saying that, he took off his heavy theatrical robe.
Once the green robe and golden armor were removed, it was as if a burden of more than twenty pounds had been lifted, leaving only a white water garment clinging to his body. He immediately appeared much thinner, and even the outline of his shoulders became clearer.
"Let's go home."
He turned to Shunzi, his tone as usual.
"Have your advisor cook me a bowl of vegetarian noodles with scallions."
"I just want to eat that."
Shunzi was startled, and her nose suddenly stung with tears.
He killed such a big shot, which shocked the entire city of Beijing, but in the end, all he longed for was a bowl of vegetarian noodles cooked by his father, with two eggs poached in it and a handful of finely chopped green onions.
This is called returning to simplicity and authenticity.
On stage, he is the majestic Lord Guan; off stage, he is still the son of the Lu family and the pillar of the Qingyun Troupe.
"Why."
Shunzi nodded vigorously, wiped her eyes, and said, "I'll go arrange a car right away!"