Chapter 456: No More Bullshit, Let's See What You've Got |
The next day, on the set of Kapok Alley.
The midday sun was scorching.
"Creak—"
A Wuling Hongguang van, the same model as Jiang Ci's, belched black smoke and wheezed its way through the set's entrance.
"Who's that?" Xiao Wang, the new clapper loader, frowned, walkie-talkie in hand. "Didn't we block off the road? How'd a scrap collector get in?"
The car door was shoved open violently.
First to land was a thousand-layer-sole black cloth shoe caked with yellow mud, the heel stomped flat, revealing a calloused heel.
Then, an old man in a yellowed old man's undershirt and baggy shorts, with thinning hair, crawled out.
He carried a red, white, and blue woven plastic bag, hunched his back, squinted, and took in his surroundings.
Seeing this, Xiao Wang rushed over, waving his call sheet. "Hey, old man! We're shooting a movie here! You can't pick up bottles! Get out, get out!"
The old man didn't move. He just lifted his eyelids slightly, his murky eyes scanning Xiao Wang.
Just that one look.
A chill shot down Xiao Wang's spine. The words died in his throat.
"Everyone, get the hell out of my way!"
A sharp roar came from behind the monitor.
Jiang Wen strode over.
It was the reverence a junior holds for a founding master.
"Master Chen!" Jiang Wen stretched out both hands from a distance, even slightly bowing. "How could I let you drive yourself here! What about the car I sent?"
"That car's too soft. Hurts my back to sit in it."
The old man tossed his woven plastic bag to the ground.
"Director Jiang, this is…" Xiao Wang shrunk to the side, utterly confused.
"Call him Master Chen!" Jiang Wen shot Xiao Wang a glare. "He's a founding elder of Hong Kong's Hung Ga Ban. His skills are the real deal."
The old man waved a hand, impatient. "Alright, cut the bullshit. Did you pay my fee?"
"Paid, paid. Not a cent missing." Jiang Wen smiled obsequiously.
"Good." The old man sniffed, his face darkening. "Money's taken, so the job's gotta be clean. Where's that young man I'm supposed to act with? Where is he? Bring him out for a spin."
"Master Chen, he's still eating. We just shot all morning…"
"Eating?" The old man sneered, wrinkles bunching up, a hint of cruelty seeping through. "In this business, who has time to eat? Back in my day, we'd fast for three days before a performance. Full belly means no of that savage hunger that makes you want to tear someone apart."
Jiang Wen didn't get angry. Instead, his eyes lit up.
This was it.
This was the villain he wanted.
"He's over there." Jiang Wen turned and pointed to a pile of construction debris at the corner of the set.
In the shadows.
Jiang Ci was crouched on a cracked cement slab.
He held a boxed lunch, devouring it with his head down.
A Jie's character was a low-level thug, eating whenever he could, so Jiang Ci had set himself an action—guarding his food.
Even with a cheap boxed lunch, he shielded it with half his body, chopsticks flying as he shoveled food into his mouth, cheeks puffed out.
He sensed something.
Jiang Ci jerked his head up.
Their eyes met.
Twenty meters apart.
The old man's once-murky eyes now blazed with sharp light.
"Interesting." The old man licked his cracked lips. "That look's wild enough."
Jiang Ci didn't speak.
He just bit down hard on the big drumstick from his boxed lunch.
"Master Chen, what do you think…" Jiang Wen tested the waters.
"No rush."
The old man scuffed his cloth shoes and slowly walked toward an old-fashioned eight-immortal table the props team had just set up.
It was a prop for the next scene—a gang negotiation. Genuine old redwood, heavy and solid. For authenticity, Jiang Wen had paid a fortune for it from an antique market.
The old man stopped by the table. He didn't sit.
He reached out a hand.
The surrounding martial arts brothers gasped.
That hand was a size larger than a normal man's, the skin a weird, ashen blue-gray.
Knuckles bulged like tree knots, nails clipped short but terrifyingly thick, edges sharp as knives.
These were clearly a pair of eagle claws, honed in iron sand for sixty years!
The old man casually rested his hand on the table's corner.
"These young men today, they look pretty." The old man spoke slowly, his five fingers hooking the corner. "But I wonder if their bones are as hard as this wood."
The words barely faded.
The old man's wrist gave a slight twist.
A jarring, teeth-grinding crack.
"Crack."
Everyone's eyes went wide.
The iron-hard old redwood corner crumbled like a biscuit under the old man's five fingers.
His fingers sank into the wood without resistance.
Then, he flipped his hand and pried it off.
"Snap."
A fist-sized chunk of solid wood was literally "grabbed" off!
Wood splinters flew.
The old man released his grip, and the chunk crumbled into several fragments in his palm, falling to the ground.
Xiao Wang's walkie-talkie clattered to the floor.
A few of the martial arts brothers who practiced kickboxing swallowed hard and instinctively hid their hands behind their backs.
"Is that… Eagle Claw Force?" Old Zhang, the martial arts director, was trembling. "I thought that technique was lost long ago…"
The old man brushed the splinters off his hand.
He raised his hand, still dusted with wood chips, and pointed at Jiang Ci in the corner.
"A table's a dead thing. I want to see if a living thing can take it."
The old man's voice was low but carried a domineering edge: "Director Jiang, don't tell me how to act. For this scene, I'm not holding back."
"If he dares to take it, I'll act."
"If he can't, or if he pisses himself, send him packing to act in idol dramas. I can't afford that shame."
This was the way of the underworld.
All eyes turned to that corner.
Jiang Ci finally finished his last bite.
He tossed the empty box aside.
Staggering to his feet, his tattered vest hanging on him, revealing lean but explosive muscles.
He wore flip-flops, slapping the ground as he shuffled over.
He stopped three steps from the old man.
Jiang Ci tilted his head, looking at the eight-immortal table with its missing corner.
"Old man."
Jiang Ci spoke, his voice carrying A Jie's signature reckless edge, mixed with a hint of pity. "This table's expensive. The crew's budget is tight enough."
The old man was taken aback.
He'd expected the young man to beg for mercy.
He hadn't expected him to worry about the damn table.
"Scared?" The old man sneered.
"Scared?"
Jiang Ci picked a sliver of chicken from his teeth and spat it on the ground.
He lifted his head, his eyes locked on the old man's terrifying hands.
A Jie's world was simple.
Whoever wanted to make trouble on his turf, whoever wanted to smash his rice bowl, you fight the hell out of them.
"Forget the table. You don't have to pay."
Jiang Ci stepped forward, that wildness from deep in his bones actually pushing back against the old man's fierce aura.
He grinned, flashing a row of white teeth.
"But if you mess up my lion later…"
Jiang Ci's voice dropped sharply, hoarse and rough:
"We're going to settle that score."
They stared at each other.
One old, one young.
One like a hawk striking a rabbit, murderous aura boiling.
One like a stray dog guarding its food, giving no ground.
Jiang Wen stood to the side, watching this scene, every pore on his body bursting open.
Perfect!
This was the tension he wanted!
This was that sense of confrontation that didn't even need lines, just pure presence to burst the screen apart!
A test run?
No damn way!
If they kept testing, that edge would fade!
Jiang Wen suddenly raised his massive megaphone, his throat tearing as he let out a roar:
"All departments—attention—!!!"
"No test run! We're rolling directly!"
"Everyone in position! Next scene—The Tiger Gang Summons the Mountain!!!"
"Action—!!!"