yasinovel Chapter 119 The Overlord Helmet Filled with Lead, Is This Neck Made of Iron?
Chapter 119 The Overlord Helmet Filled with Lead, Is This Neck Made of Iron?
Chapter 120 The Overlord Helmet Filled with Lead, Is This Neck Made of Iron?
Life is like the flowing water in the moat; it may seem calm on the surface, but there are undercurrents beneath.
In the blink of an eye, the ten-day period was over.
The sky was overcast that day, and swallows flew low, as if holding back a good rain.
At the gate of the Lu residence, the "Juyuanzhai" cart, which was already familiar with the place, stopped. The old manager personally escorted the cart, holding a large square box wrapped tightly in yellow silk cloth in his arms, as carefully as if he were holding his own grandson who had just turned one month old.
"Master Lu, the item you requested has been delivered as requested. Here you go."
As soon as the old shopkeeper entered the backyard, his forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat.
It wasn't the heat, it was the exhaustion and the tension.
Lu Feng, Shunzi, and the others, who were squatting in a horse stance in the courtyard, all rushed over.
Everyone wanted to see what this legendary 20-pound "Overlord Helmet" was really like.
Lu Cheng was sitting on the veranda wiping the Green Dragon Crescent Blade. Upon hearing this, he put down what he was doing, washed his hands, and then walked over.
"Open."
"Alright!"
The old shopkeeper took a deep breath, untied the yellow silk, and lifted the lid of the sandalwood box.
"Whoosh!"
Although it was a cloudy day, the moment the box was opened, it was as if a flash of lightning streaked across the yard.
It was a black helmet with a golden dragon design, worn by a scholar.
Unlike the flimsy, paper-thin costumes of ordinary opera troupes.
This helmet exudes a heavy, weighty feel.
The base is made of century-old elm wood that has been dried in the shade and then soaked in tung oil for forty-nine days, making it as hard as iron.
It was lined with copper sheets, and the interlayer was filled with lead sand.
The outer brocade was embroidered with nine coiled dragons in dense gold thread, and the dragon eyes were made of rubies, which gleamed with a faint blood-red light under the gloomy sky.
The pom-pom on top wasn't a gaudy bright red, but a dark red like dried bloodstains.
The thing, when placed there, didn't look like a theatrical costume; it looked more like a weapon just unearthed from an ancient battlefield, exuding a chilling aura.
"nice one."
A glint flashed in Lu Cheng's eyes, and he reached out to take it.
"Master Lu, be careful with your hands, this thing is incredibly heavy—" the old shopkeeper quickly reminded him.
Before he finished speaking, Lu Cheng grabbed the twenty-pound iron lump with one hand, lifting it up as easily as if it were a straw hat.
He wasn't wearing one; he just used two fingers to support the padding inside the helmet and gently twisted his wrist.
"Waaah"
The helmet spun in the air, creating a low whistling sound, and the red pom-pom seemed to come alive, rustling and crackling.
"Shunzi, here you go."
Lu Cheng tossed it casually.
Shunzi instinctively reached out with both hands to catch it.
"Bang!"
Shunzi stumbled, cracking a piece of the blue brick beneath his feet, and nearly fell to his knees, clutching his helmet.
In that instant, he felt as if half a piece of pork had been smashed into his arms.
"My goodness!"
Shunzi's face turned bright red, and he grimaced.
"Master, this—this is too heavy! If I wear this on my head, won't my neck break?"
The little beans around them were also so frightened that they stuck out their tongues.
Can you do somersaults with this thing on your head? Can you even fight with it?
Wouldn't that shake the brain to its core?
Lu Cheng smiled and ignored his disciples' commotion.
He took the helmet from Shunzi, straightened the hem of his long robe, and looked solemn.
"Watch."
He held the helmet in both hands, placed it securely on his head, and tightened the strap around his chin.
That instant.
Lu Cheng's demeanor has changed.
The scholarly air and the gentle, refined demeanor of a master were replaced at this moment by an overwhelming aura, like a mountain collapsing.
It felt like twenty pounds of weight were pressing down on your head, forcing you to straighten your spine and tense every muscle.
The veins on his neck, like dragons, bulged slightly, steadily supporting the heavy helmet.
"Give it your all!"
Lu Cheng gave a low shout.
There were no drumbeats, no erhu music.
He took a sliding step and suddenly stretched out his body.
"Buzz!"
His loose-fitting long robe fluttered loudly from the force of his tremor.
His head didn't shake, his shoulders didn't sway, only his eyes, as he moved, shot out two cold beams of light.
Sudden.
He suddenly shook his head.
"Whoosh—smack!"
The twenty-pound helmet, adorned with a huge red pom-pom, traced a perfect arc in the air.
The force of that swing was more than a hundred pounds.
If it were an ordinary person, their neck would have snapped in that instant.
But to Lu Cheng, the helmet seemed to be ingrained in his flesh, as stable as Mount Tai, with only the red pom-pom dancing wildly.
Still as a virgin, swift as thunder.
"good!!!"
The old shopkeeper was moved to tears, gave a thumbs-up, and his voice trembled.
"Amazing, truly amazing!"
"I've made headdresses for so many years, worked for countless famous actors, but not a single one could bring this inanimate object to life."
"Master Lu, you're not just playing the role of Xiang Yu, you are Xiang Yu reincarnated!"
Lu Cheng slowly stopped, took off his helmet, and there wasn't a drop of sweat on his forehead, only the skin on his neck was slightly red.
He put the helmet back in the box, took out a two-hundred-tael silver note from his sleeve, and handed it to the old shopkeeper.
"The craftsmanship is impeccable. This is the final payment; the rest can be considered a tip."
"Thank you for the reward, Master Lu!"
The old shopkeeper took the silver note, but didn't leave. He rubbed his hands, staring longingly at the helmet, then at Lu Cheng's neck, hesitant to speak.
Lu Cheng raised an eyebrow: "Is there anything else?"
The old shopkeeper chuckled, took a half-step closer, and lowered his voice.
"Master Lu, to be honest, this helmet—it actually has a minor flaw."
"Oh?" Lu Cheng gestured for him to continue.
"The lead sand was poured in unevenly."
The old shopkeeper scratched his head, looking a little embarrassed.
"There's a small area that's been filled particularly densely, a little heavier than the rest. I originally wanted to tear it down and redo it, but the deadline was just too tight, and I figured with Master Lu's superhuman strength, this slight unevenness wouldn't matter, so—"
Upon hearing this, Lu Cheng's lips curled up slightly. He picked up the helmet again, weighed it in his hand, and then turned it slightly to feel its texture.
Suddenly, he flicked a spot on the side of the helmet with a single finger.
"despair."
A soft sound, accompanied by an echo.
Immediately afterwards, Lu Cheng handed the helmet to Xiao Douzi, who was curiously looking around.
"Here, try it on."
Little Bean was so frightened that he waved his hands repeatedly: "Master, I can't do that, my neck will break."
"I won't let you wear it on your head."
Lu Cheng laughed and said, "Hold it in both hands and feel it."
Little Douzi took it tremblingly, her arms immediately sinking down, her little face turning red as she tried her best to hold it.
"Feel it carefully. In your hand, is the helmet heavier on the left or the right?" Lu Cheng asked.
Little Bean concentrated and held his breath, slightly adjusting his arms from side to side, and hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"It seems—it seems like the right side is slightly heavier? No, it doesn't seem like it is—"
Lu Cheng laughed heartily, took back the helmet, and said to the old shopkeeper.
"Shopkeeper, your skills have reached a state of perfection. This isn't a flaw, it's a natural talent."
"Even a mighty overlord carrying a tripod has some weight to it. A true hero wearing a helmet doesn't need to be perfectly balanced. This slight unevenness is precisely a reminder to the helmet wearer: nothing in this world can achieve absolute balance. Only with a steadfast mind can one remain as stable as Mount Tai."
The old shopkeeper was taken aback at first, then suddenly realized what he meant and slapped his thigh with a laugh.
"Brilliant! Master Lu's words make sense even about the slightest flaw in our craftsmen."
"Well, this helmet only truly 'made' after meeting Master Lu!"
After seeing off the profusely grateful old shopkeeper, Lu Cheng looked at his group of apprentices who were staring in disbelief.
"Are you all stunned?"
Lu Cheng said calmly.
"This helmet is heavy because it carries weight."
"Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown."
"If you want to become stars and establish yourselves in this world, you have to be able to shoulder responsibilities."
"Lu Feng".
"exist!"
"From today onwards, you'll have to do extra training too. Find a sandbag, five pounds heavy, and put it on your head while you practice."
"When you can do ten somersaults with sandbags on your head without falling, that's when it's over."
"yes!"
Lu Feng responded loudly.
At noon, outside the front gate, "Zhimeizhai".
This is a long-established restaurant, famous throughout Beijing for its "one fish, four ways" and "radish pancakes".
Today, the private room "Tingtao Pavilion" on the second floor of Zhimeizhai has been booked.
The host was none other than the "head" of the Peking Opera guild in Beiping, the president of the Peking Opera Association, and the famous actor known as "Iron Voice" Mr. Cheng.
This Mr. Cheng has been singing old male roles all his life. He is highly respected and respected. Although he rarely performs on stage now, he is a figure who can make people tremble with a stomp of his foot in this industry.
-
Today's event is to set the tone for the "Autumn Grand Performance".
Besides Mr. Cheng, those present included Master Ye, the head of the Fu Lian Cheng troupe, renowned performers from the Shang school, and even several famous actors who came from Tianjin.
Of course, the most eye-catching person was the young man sitting in the first seat on the left.
Lu Cheng.
He was still dressed in a simple long gown, holding a folding fan made of Xiangfei bamboo in his hand, his expression indifferent. Compared with the elderly people in the room dressed in silk and satin, with gold watches on their fingers, he seemed somewhat out of place.
But no one dared to underestimate him.
With the Green Dragon Crescent Blade displayed behind him, no one dared to challenge him.
"Cough cough."
Mr. Cheng cleared his throat, picked up his teacup, and glanced around the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we've gathered here today for the grand performance next month."
"This performance will be a great honor for us Beijingers. Boss Mei will be coming too, that's for sure."
"but----"
Mr. Cheng paused, his gaze falling on Lu Cheng with a complex expression.
"We still need to discuss how to arrange this grand finale, a performance featuring male martial arts actors."
"According to the rules, the title of 'Opera Master' must be held by someone whose qualifications, skills, and reputation are all widely respected."
These words immediately created a subtle atmosphere in the room.
Lu Cheng has been making headlines lately.
Slaying Japanese ronin with a sword—that's national heroism. Defeating a cart with a spear—that's unparalleled skill.
But these seasoned veterans present felt a little uneasy.
A self-taught amateur who's only been performing for a few days?
Is this going to be a burden on these old folks who have spent their whole lives performing?
"Old Cheng is right."
The speaker was a fat man in his fifties with a face full of fat, and he was twirling two iron walnuts in his hands.
This man was called Qi San, nicknamed "Living Zhang Fei." He was a famous painted-face actor in Beiping City and also known for his volatile temper.
He glanced at Lu Cheng sideways and said in a sarcastic tone.
"Boss Lu's kung fu skills are undeniable; he's a master at killing."
"But we're performing a play, not competing in a boxing match."
"Opera singing emphasizes charm and adherence to rules."
"I also went to see Boss Lu's performance of 'Yandang Mountain.' It was lively, but they turned the stage into a martial arts arena, with real swords and spears. That's what reckless men do."
"If this top performer were given to Boss Lu, laymen would just enjoy the spectacle, but experts—they'd probably say that the Peking Opera world in Beiping has no one left, all they know is how to brandish knives."
That's a bit of a sarcastic remark.
It's saying that Lu Cheng doesn't understand opera and is just a martial artist who only knows how to fight.
Several veteran actors around them nodded in agreement, their eyes showing a hint of approval.
They acknowledged that Lu Cheng was a skilled fighter, but fighting and performing opera were two different things.
Lu Cheng sat there without saying a word.
He slowly poured himself a cup of tea, his movements elegant, more like a scholar than a martial artist.
"So what does Boss Yiqi mean?" Lu Cheng asked casually.
"snort."
Qi San snorted coldly and stood up.
"Since this concerns the Peking Opera world, then we must follow its rules."
"We won't compete in fighting or killing."
"Let's compare—skills" and "physical strength."
"I have a halberd here."
Qi San waved his hand, and his apprentice immediately handed him a heavy halberd.
This halberd is beautifully made, adorned with colorful silk ribbons, but it is quite heavy, weighing a full forty pounds.
"If Boss Lu could use this halberd to perform the movements of the 'Battle of Wancheng' halberd on this table without knocking over the teacups, he would be a perfect match."
Qi San pointed to the round table in front of him, which was only the size of an eight-immortal table and was covered with teacups.
"Then I, Qi San, am the first to admire you. I'll be your sedan chair bearer and carry you to that title of 'The King of Opera.'"
"If you can't do it—"
Qi San chuckled.
"Then please, Mr. Lu, make the effort to put on an opening act," he said, "but let's leave the grand finale to those of us who know the ropes."
This is a test.
It's also a form of making things difficult.
The halberd is twelve feet long, heavy and long, making it the most difficult weapon to wield.
On such a small table, you have to avoid the densely packed teacups, twirl this huge thing, and even perform the movements of a traditional opera.
This is like performing a ritual inside a snail shell.
If you're not careful and knock over a teacup, you've lost.
Not only did they lose face, but they also lost the reputation of "the pride of Chinese martial arts".
Mr. Cheng remained silent, clearly tacitly approving of this "talking."
Lu Cheng glanced at the table, then at the halberd in Qi San's hand.
He smiled.
He smiled calmly and nonchalantly.
"it is good."
Lu Cheng stood up but didn't take the halberd.
He took out his folding fan from behind his back.
"Boss Qi, the halberd is too long and difficult to wield properly, which might damage the harmony among everyone."
"I'll use this fan."
"fan?"
Qi San was taken aback, then burst into laughter, "Boss Lu, are you really that clueless or just pretending? Fans are for literary performances, this is a martial arts contest—"
"To perform martial arts scenes with a refined style, that's true skill."
Lu Cheng interrupted him.
"I will use this fan as a halberd."
"Look carefully."
Before he finished speaking, Lu Cheng made a move.
He did not sit on the table.
Instead, he lightly touched the ground with his toes and his whole body floated up into the air.
It's not the kind of flying where you're suspended by wires.
Instead, it's a combination of the Ghostly Shadow Step and the Swallow Form movement technique.
He moved like a swallow, circling in the air before landing steadily on the edge of the round table laden with teacups.
He wasn't standing on the table.
He was standing on one leg, on the edge of the table that was only a finger's width wide!
"Hiss!"
The entire audience gasped.
That's too light! The table didn't even wobble.
Immediately afterwards, Lu Cheng unfolded the folding fan in his hand with a "whoosh".
The fan seemed to change instantly in his hands.
It was no longer a paper fan, but a halberd as heavy as a thousand pounds.
His expression changed.
The aura of a tyrant instantly possesses me.
Although he was holding a fan, in everyone's eyes, it was as if they saw the valiant Lü Bu, Lü Fengxian.
"rise!"
Lu Cheng turned around.
He began to "circle" along the narrow edge of the table.
It was an extremely complex catwalk, with toes touching the ground as if stepping on lotus flowers.
The folding fan in his hand sometimes swept horizontally, sometimes thrust straight, and sometimes spun around.
The movements were expansive, powerful, and unparalleled.
The fan whistled, producing a buzzing sound as if a real halberd was being swung.
The teacups on the table were completely full.
The fan darted through the gap in the teacup with lightning speed.
At its closest, the fan almost brushed against the teacup lid.
If it were even slightly off-center, all those teacups on the table would shatter into pieces.
Qi San was so shocked that cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
This level of control—it's terrifying.
This is not just kung fu; it is a masterful control of power.
Sudden.
Lu Cheng made a "skyward kick" motion.
Standing on one leg, with the other leg kicking straight over his head, he held the folding fan high in his hand, striking a "frozen" pose.
stable.
Not moving.
It's like a bronze statue cast on the edge of a table.
The folding fan in his hand stopped precisely above a teacup.
The tip of the fan was less than a millimeter away from a single tea leaf floating in the tea.
The tea didn't even ripple.
"good!!!"
Mr. Cheng was the first to burst out laughing and exclaimed in admiration.
"That physique, that control—this is martial arts honed into literature, transforming strength into gentleness!"
"Boss Lu, your skills are truly amazing."
Lu Cheng withdrew his stance, his body floated back to the ground.
He closed his folding fan, his face neither flushed nor out of breath, and bowed slightly to Qi San.
"Boss Qi, I'm afraid I'll make a fool of myself."
Qi San's face turned completely red, and he was sweating from squeezing the iron walnut in his hand.
Although he has a bad temper, he is also a discerning person.
They can put on such an imposing presence just by holding a fan on the edge of a table. If they were actually holding a halberd, I wouldn't stand a chance against them.
"I'm impressed."
Qi San sighed and tossed the halberd aside.
"Master Lu, I, Qi Dazui, am a rough man, but I know right from wrong."
"This title of 'Master of the Opera' belongs to none other than you."
"At the grand performance, I'll lead your horse!"
This one sentence completely stunned the older generation of Peking Opera performers in Beiping.
Lu Cheng was in a good mood after leaving Zhimeizhai.
This "literary contest" is more interesting than the "physical contest."
It can explain the principles without bloodshed and win people's hearts.
As I was walking, I passed a newspaper stand.
"Extra number, extra number."
-
The newsboy shouted at the top of his lungs.
"An urgent telegram has arrived from Tianjin."
"A Japanese ronin has set up a life-or-death duel," vowing to challenge the Chinese martial arts world.
"After Huo Yuanjia, who can rival him?"
Lu Cheng paused in his steps.
He reached out, tossed a coin to the newsboy, and took a newspaper.
The front page headline featured a black and white photograph.
The photo shows a Japanese samurai with a fierce face, standing on the "Jingwu Men" plaque, looking arrogant.
That was—Fujita Tsuyoshi, a master of the Japanese Black Dragon Society.
In the corner of the report, there was also a line of small print.
[It is rumored that Liu Wenhua, the president of the Simin Martial Arts Association, and Cheng Tinghua, a famous Baguazhang master, among others, have gone missing after suffering a defeat in a sparring match, and are suspected of being under house arrest in the Japanese concession.]
"President Liu————"
Lu Cheng was slightly taken aback.
An overwhelming aura of murderous intent emanated from him, frightening passersby into giving him a wide berth.
"It seems that we absolutely have to go to Tianjin."
"Let's set it after the performance, after I've fully reached the Transformation Realm, then I'll wade into these muddy waters."
Thinking this, Lu Cheng folded the newspaper and put it in his pocket.
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