Chapter Fourteen: The "Myth" Film Crew

Chen Long turned to look at Zhu Yanping, who patted his chest and shook his head.
“Qingshan is modest by nature, but in my opinion, it will take him far less than ten years. With his current level of skill, he’s already the best I’ve ever seen!”
“How does his martial arts compare to mine?”
“There’s no point in comparing. Many have seen his swordplay—it’s true swordsmanship meant to kill, utterly different from the martial arts forms you specialize in.”
Zhu Yanping had always been blunt, a trait typical of the old Shandong folk.
Chen Long’s expression changed immediately. Having practiced martial arts since childhood, he naturally understood what the other meant.
Sword techniques meant for killing were, without exception, either long lost or kept secret within the martial world.
If this young man was willing to demonstrate publicly, he likely didn’t belong to the latter; otherwise, it would go against the teachings of tradition.
At fifty years old, Chen Long had only ever heard rumors of such skills but had never witnessed them himself. His heart burned with excitement.
“Come, let’s take a few of us to a private room on the second floor. I’d like to see this young man’s skills for myself!”
He intended to invite the whole table along, including the directors and actors, as well as several from the production and presenting companies—among them, representatives from the national television network, who wielded considerable influence.
One producer stayed behind to settle the rest, while a group of over a dozen quickly made their way to a private room upstairs.
Sure enough, a few people had already taken seats in the spacious room, two of whom were just as renowned.
The actress was Kim Hee-sun from Korea, and the actor was Leung Ka-fai from Hong Kong.
The others were familiar faces as well: Lu Huiguang from Hong Kong, Shao Bing from the mainland, Yu Rongguang, Sun Zhou, and finally, the Korean actor Choi Myung-soo.
While a table was being added, Chen Long spoke to his associates about Liu Qingshan’s skills.
Skepticism was evident in their eyes, for several among them were martial arts experts themselves.
Yu Rongguang, for instance, although trained as a wusheng in the Peking Opera, had a solid and formidable martial arts foundation.
And as for Lu Huiguang, he was actually born in Thailand, a Chinese expatriate who had dominated the Hong Kong Muay Thai Invitational for seven consecutive championships from 1984 to 1990, once even knocking an opponent unconscious for over a dozen hours with a single punch.
His fighting prowess was the real thing—a lethal combat technique with terrifying destructive power.
Faced with their doubtful looks, Liu Qingshan paid them little mind and instead addressed Chen Long, “There’s no sword here. Should I just perform a set of boxing forms?”
Chen Long shook his head. “Boxing is just as worthy of appreciation. I have a longsword right here. Shao Bing, would you fetch it from my room?”
He kept talking,
“There’s absolutely no intention of testing you. This is all for personal interest. It’s hard not to be curious when meeting someone from the same field.”
His words were polite, but Liu Qingshan was no fool—he wouldn’t take them at face value, nor would he pass up such a rare opportunity to display his skills.
With space cleared in the room, he finished demonstrating his ‘Thirty-Six Hands of Flowery Boxing’ just as Shao Bing returned with the sword.
The boxing technique was not as suffused with killing intent as Liang Guanghua had claimed, but it was truly superior to most contemporary martial arts routines.
Even Lu Huiguang, known for his Muay Thai, was left stunned.
No one understood the application of lethal close-combat techniques better than him. The practicality of what he’d just witnessed was far beyond anything in display martial arts forms, and even fiercer than Muay Thai.
The most crucial thing was that none present had ever seen a boxing style like this.
The odd and cunning angles and speeds of the strikes made every practitioner there silently wonder, if they were to face him, would they be able to defend perfectly?
Judging by their expressions, none had found an answer.
Liu Qingshan ignored their reactions, taking up the sword and beginning to move.
With just a few flashes of the blade, everyone felt a chill of terror.
Especially the seasoned martial artists—they could sense that, no matter how powerful other sword techniques might be, compared to what they were witnessing now, the difference was like night and day, utterly incomparable.
The force radiating from him seemed imbued with a dreadful, murderous power. The dazzling blade, under the lights, gleamed with a cold brilliance so intense that at moments, the onlookers could barely keep their eyes open.
The longsword was enveloped in a swirling energy like a dragon, emitting a chilling, murderous hiss that made Liu Qingshan exude an unnerving, sinister aura from head to toe.
His eyes were cold and merciless, as sharp as the sword’s gleam. With every movement, his sword grew more ruthless—no unnecessary flourishes, just a relentless, savage intent in every strike.
Kim Hee-sun, the only woman in the room, was so frightened she curled into a ball, hands covering her entire face, yet she couldn’t help peeking through her fingers.

Fortunately, Liu Qingshan had only devised a handful of moves in a single night; after a flurry of swordplay, he stopped.
It hadn’t been his intention to create such a lethal sword technique out of the ‘Thirty-Six Hands of Flowery Boxing’—it was an unexpected discovery, a path found by chance.
In truth, the sense of menace was not real, but rather a powerful first impression.
Combined with the strange forms of the boxing set, channeled through the sword, it was natural for a chilling aura to arise.
The others, however, were unaware of this. Especially Chen Long, who, rather than being frightened like the rest, was beaming with joy.
When Liu Qingshan finished, he was the first to applaud loudly,
“Haha! Truly deserving of your reputation. I’m honored to have witnessed your skill today—makes me feel rather humbled!”
The others nodded repeatedly. Suddenly, Yu Rongguang asked, “What is this sword technique called?”
“Brother Yu, it has no name. I only know it seems somewhat similar in style to my boxing forms.”
So he recounted the story he’d fabricated earlier.
“Thirty-Six Hands of Flowery Boxing? Never heard of it either. Seems the old man who taught you was a true hidden master!”
“I only had a sudden insight a few months ago. Before that, I thought he’d been deceiving me. In my eyes, he was more a swindler than a master.”
Chen Long shook his head. “When you finally realized, it was too late, wasn’t it? What a pity—no chance to meet this elder again.”
“That was thirteen years ago. The old man looked seventy or eighty even then. I doubt there’ll be another chance.”
Liu Qingshan’s words drew a round of sighs. By then, the tables were being brought in.
After everyone was seated, Chen Long called Liu Qingshan aside,
“I want to learn your boxing technique. Is that too abrupt? I apologize—I’m just too eager!”
Liu Qingshan was already prepared for this. “Why didn’t you mention the sword technique, Brother?”