Chapter Eleven: The Swordsmanship of Killing

Although incorporating sword techniques into traditional boxing may seem somewhat incongruous, it perfectly suits the needs of film and television productions. Liu Qingshan understood that, with continuous practice in the days to come, this hybrid might even evolve into its own form of swordsmanship. Since it wasn’t meant for actual combat, the requirements for the performance were simply flair and variety; as long as it dazzled on screen, that was enough. No scholar or expert would nitpick the martial scenes in a drama afterward—such criticism would be entirely misplaced.

Just as the group had surmised, while Liu Qingshan was engrossed in reading the script, the assistant director surnamed Liu came to find him. After conveying the director’s invitation, this man, likely aware of Liu Qingshan’s impressive display the previous day, adopted a much friendlier demeanor. Yet, he seemed unaware of the subsequent arrangements and, as they hurried along, kept probing curiously. Liu Qingshan chose to feign ignorance, having gradually realized that this assistant director was little more than a higher-level errand runner. Such individuals dealt with a broad swath of people, and Liu Qingshan knew well the wisdom of speaking less; he simply played dumb.

The director was stationed in a large tent, its conditions poor, the cold wind visibly seeping through every corner. At the center stood a somewhat worn, long table, behind which five people sat, assuming the posture of examiners. Their expressions were generally amiable—especially Zhang Zijian, the actor portraying Li Yuanfang, who waved to Liu Qingshan from afar as he entered. Besides Qian Yangqiu and Zhu Yanping, present were Feng Xiangzhen, the actress playing Wu Zetian—a seasoned artist in her late fifties with countless awards to her name—and Liang Guanghua, the renowned actor for Di Renjie, whose attitude was even warmer than Zhang Zijian’s, though he hadn’t spoken yet.

Feng Xiangzhen, however, wore a stern expression and was the first to speak: “You must be Liu Qingshan? Even fresher-faced than the rumors suggest, but that can be adjusted with makeup! You know why you’re here today, don’t you?”

Liu Qingshan dropped the pretense: “After returning yesterday, I pondered over Director Qian’s words and asked around among the team—it seems an acting opportunity has arisen!”

“Good, you’re honest. The three of us weren’t present yesterday—could you demonstrate your martial arts for us?”

As soon as Feng Xiangzhen finished, Zhang Zijian chimed in: “I see you brought a sword, but since we saw your skills yesterday, we’d like to experience them firsthand—let’s save the swordplay for later.” After Liu Qingshan set aside the sword as requested, Zhang Zijian added, “I must state up front, I’m not here to test you like the others. I’ve learned some martial arts myself, as a hobby, and I’m mostly just curious.”

Liu Qingshan then performed his Thirty-Six Flowery Fist techniques, unleashing a rapid sequence of movements like lightning, so fast that it left the onlookers dazzled. The “Flowery Fist” was named for its flourishes—moves blooming like a riot of flowers, blending hardness with softness, form and spirit in harmony. To the laymen watching, the most captivating aspect was the fluidity of his body, like a willow in the wind, and the whip-like crack of his arms, which occasionally produced a sharp, explosive sound as they sliced through the air. The force of his extended arms at full power generated a whip-crack so fierce that even those unfamiliar with martial arts could sense its formidable impact. Those with some knowledge were even more astounded, recognizing that Liu Qingshan’s skill approached the level of “force transforming into energy” described in martial novels. Although his current abilities fell short of that realm, his techniques were far more genuine than the stylized routines popular today.

Amid their astonished silence, Liu Qingshan finished his demonstration with flawless ease.

“Even though I watched yesterday, I can’t help but applaud again today! But I sense your performance is even stronger than before?” This remark came from Zhu Yanping, the most knowledgeable about martial arts among the five. Liu Qingshan understood the implication; it was true—a night’s practice had raised his experience with the Thirty-Six Flowery Fist from ten to eleven. The change seemed slight, but given the short time he’d spent learning the technique, it was remarkable.

“It probably has to do with my condition, Brother Yanping. You know how much state affects any sport.”

Zhu Yanping nodded in agreement, then turned to Zhang Zijian: “Zijian, what do you think?”

Zhang Zijian waved his hands with a grin: “With my half-baked skills, I’m hardly qualified to judge this brother’s abilities—let’s not get ahead of ourselves!”

His tone was genuine, and his gaze at Liu Qingshan brimmed with excitement.

Liang Guanghua sighed deeply: “Now I understand why Director Qian is so eager to promote this young man. With skills like his, playing only a killer seems almost unfair!”

“I agree!” Feng Xiangzhen immediately added. “The character Hu Jinghui dies within a dozen episodes, doesn’t he? Qingshan, with your abilities, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you took Zijian’s role!”

Liu Qingshan quickly waved his hands: “I just have some tricks up my sleeve. Brother Zijian’s role requires at least a decade of acting experience—I’m nowhere near that. I’ve never even had a speaking extra part!”

“Actually, Teacher Feng is right. Li Yuanfang is Di Renjie’s chief bodyguard—fiery temper, meticulous, strict principles, mostly a single expression throughout the series. You could easily pull it off!” Zhang Zijian took the teasing in stride, smiling cheerfully and showing clear respect for Feng Xiangzhen.

Qian Yangqiu offered no evaluation, but spoke up: “Since you brought a sword, and Hu Jinghui wields the legendary Orchid Blade in the drama, show us your swordplay.”

Without hesitation, Liu Qingshan took up the blade, its sound slicing through the air. The subtle aura of the sword seemed almost alive, circling freely about him, imparting a sense of a gentle breeze passing by. As he moved, his garments fluttered, creating the illusion that he might soar away on the wind at any moment.

Like his boxing, the sword techniques were lightning-fast—at their peak, they seemed almost weightless, as though his feet never touched the ground. Arcs of shining light flashed with dazzling brilliance, yet throughout their execution there lingered a cold, ruthless aura of hidden menace.

These moves, devised overnight by merging boxing with swordsmanship, were not particularly sophisticated, but they were steeped in murderous intent, perfectly capturing the cold, fierce demeanor required of an assassin. Clearly, this was not a flamboyant stage swordplay, but a practical, lethal style. Combined with the precise footwork from the Flowery Fist, it evoked a mysterious, chilling sense of terror.