The Demon Cult Leader’s Path to Chasing His Wife [Ancient to Modern] - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Insight and Manifestation (Part 1)

In the end, Zhang Kuang did not actually hit anyone.

Xiao Liu rushed over after finishing his phone call, only to find Young Master Lu lying on the ground in a most undignified manner, his arms still wrapped around a chair leg.

Xiao Liu waved to the two of them. His tone was very polite, yet he addressed only Lu Qian: “Director Li has just arrived. He said this lady can go straight to the set to try out. The green screen is already set up at the venue; I’ll lead you and your friend over now.”

He led the pair through a series of left and right turns until they exited the building.

The film set was already rigged with various equipment. Zhang Kuang gazed at the wire rigs and green screens; though she didn’t know their purpose, she found them quite novel. Xiao Liu noticed Zhang Kuang looking around while her expression remained indifferent, which gave him a favorable impression of this quiet girl.

Staff of all kinds bustled between different machines in a state of organized chaos. A somewhat stout middle-aged man was sitting in a chair, leisurely waving a fan—this was undoubtedly Director Li. Standing beside him was a woman with a pleasant face named Ding Lina.

Ding Lina had debuted many years ago. Although she had remained a lukewarm, average celebrity, she had suddenly found favor with Director Li this time, securing the role of the second female lead in The Hard Road. Zhang Kuang was here to be her martial arts double.

Lu Qian was still a university student, and because of his playful nature, he basically never attended business gatherings or gala dinners. Thus, Director Li truly didn’t know he was the Young Master of the Lu family; he had only heard that a martial arts double was coming.

The moment Zhang Kuang entered, she captured everyone’s gaze. Simply by standing there, she had the power to make one’s breath hitch. It was like gulping down a large bottle of aged brew; as the strong liquor hit the throat, one’s heart would throb restlessly with a burning heat, leaving one intoxicated and senseless.

The looks directed at her were full of amazement, appreciation, admiration, and envy, as well as the most primal desires. However, compared to the gazes of hatred and disdain from the “righteous path” in the past, these were child’s play. The Cult Leader naturally didn’t care—nor did she need to care—about such opinions; she simply followed Xiao Liu inward with calm composure.

Director Li stood up abruptly, staring fixedly at Zhang Kuang.

“And this is…?” he asked, sizing her up.

Xiao Liu gave Zhang Kuang a look, wanting her to bow as a greeting. “This is the famous Director Li,” he turned around, “Director Li, this is Xiao Zhang. She’s here to apply for the martial arts double position.”

Zhang Kuang completely ignored Xiao Liu’s hint. Her back was ramrod straight, with no intention of lowering her head to curry favor. She merely said indifferently: “Hello, Director Li.”

“Martial arts double??” Director Li frowned. “With your foundation, being a stunt double? That would be a bit too much of a pity…”

Lu Qian, who was watching from the side, suddenly interjected: “We’re just here to try it out. If we don’t like it, we’ll head straight back.”

Then he glanced at Zhang Kuang. Seeing the Boss give a slight nod, he began to brag:

“Our Boss studied under a Great Martial Arts Master of Mount Tai. Since childhood, she has lived among the bright moon and clear breeze. Every day she drinks mountain spring water, eats forest fruits, and from sunrise to sunset, she is obsessed with practicing martial arts.”

Zhang Kuang, who had just been taken by her two underlings to eat roasted whole lamb yesterday, felt a bit guilty.

Lu Qian didn’t even blink as he talked nonsense: “Day after day, Boss cultivated a body of supreme kung fu, mastering all eighteen types of weapons. With a wave of her hand, she can shatter boulders; with a stomp of her foot, the earth trembles and mountains shake—”

He’s blowing it out of proportion, isn’t he? Why does this sound so unreliable? The crowd looked at Zhang Kuang’s exquisite face and then at her well-proportioned, slender frame. They truly didn’t think this beauty could shatter a stone with a slap; in fact, she likely couldn’t even lift a heavy spear, let alone move mountains.

Who could have guessed that Lu Qian was actually telling the whole truth?

Lu Qian was ready to keep bragging, but someone interrupted him.

“Alright,” Ding Lina, who had been standing next to Director Li, suddenly spoke with a beaming smile. “This handsome little brother should stop for a moment. We all know she’s ‘amazing’.”

“The requirements for being my double are quite strict,” her eyes darted, carrying a hint of calculation. “Since you say she’s so powerful, why don’t we have this Miss Zhang show us her martial arts skills?”

Her tone was sarcastic, making Lu Qian feel quite annoyed.

However, he reconsidered. Zhang Kuang was the Demonic Cult Leader, yes, but she had never explicitly said she knew “martial arts.” Even previously, she had only used her aura to suppress those hoodlums without actually “making a move.”

Lu Qian felt a bit uncertain. He peeked at the Boss and only felt relieved when he saw Zhang Kuang’s expression was normal.

Zhang Kuang said: “Fine. How shall I demonstrate?”

The martial arts instructor gave a “cough.” He had been watching Zhang Kuang; seeing her upright and steady stance, he could tell she was trained. He asked: “Can the young lady do a mid-air leap?”

Zhang Kuang said bluntly: “What is a mid-air leap?”

She admitted it so directly that Ding Lina thought she had caught her in a lie. Her face suddenly darkened, and her tone became aggressive: “You are being far too disrespectful to Director Li and Martial Arts Instructor Master Meng! To apply without a shred of professional training—do you really think our film crew is something you can just come and go from as you please?”

A burnt-crust minor actress dares to give the Boss an attitude?

Lu Qian was furious and was about to snap back, but Zhang Kuang held him down.

Zhang Kuang patted his shoulder lightly, speaking in a volume only the two of them could hear: “It’s no matter. I’d like to see what she intends to do.”

Director Li held Ding Lina back and said: “Lina, give her a chance.”

Since Director Li had spoken, Ding Lina couldn’t say much. She stepped back two paces, angrily crumpling the hem of her clothes.

The martial arts instructor thought for a moment and said: “You might not have learned systematically, so it’s natural you wouldn’t know the terms; that’s your advantage.” He glanced toward the prop storage and continued: “Then let’s just see you perform with a set of weapons for the visual effect. Which weapon are you best with?”

Zhang Kuang said: “Bows, crossbows, spears, staves; swords, sabers, shields; axes, halberds, and whips—I have dabbled in them all. Among them, the long halberd and the long spear are my most practiced.”

Director Li gestured to the prop team and said: “The second female lead of The Hard Road is a chivalrous wanderer who hates evil. Her swordplay is superlative. Little Zhang, why don’t you perform with a sword? No need to use too much force; the main thing is for it to look good.”

After all, the film crew was wealthy, and the props were handled without compromise; the various weapons were all made of authentic materials.

Zhang Kuang took the longsword from the prop team, weighed it, and said subconsciously: “It’s a bit light.”

Ding Lina gritted her teeth secretly. She had covertly instructed the prop team to bring the heaviest one—how could it be “light” to Zhang Kuang?

The martial arts instructor said with a smile: “Young lady, whether this sword is light or heavy can be discussed later. Don’t hide your true skills out of fear and only know how to talk big.”

Though not said explicitly, this put the skepticism toward Zhang Kuang on the table. Zhang Kuang fell silent, her thumb pressing against the hilt. With a slight exert of force:

With a “zheng—” sound, the longsword cleared its scabbard.

The swords bought by the prop team were sufficient for filming; various special effects could be added in post-production anyway, and the director had no special requirements. Thus, the quality of this sword naturally couldn’t compare to a top-grade blade.

Although Zhang Kuang was somewhat dissatisfied, she tossed it a bit and performed a flourish to familiarize herself with the blade.

“Not bad, young lady,” the casual flourish was truly beautiful. The martial arts instructor was somewhat surprised and praised her, “You indeed have a foundation in martial arts.”

Zhang Kuang looked at the instructor and said: “My master taught me well.”

Master?

The instructor watched Zhang Kuang take a disciplined stance, but he still held some doubt regarding Lu Qian’s “Master of Mount Tai.” It was truly because Zhang Kuang looked too young, making it hard to believe that the impetuous youth of today could truly settle their hearts to study martial arts that were almost “useless” under the pressure of modern firearms.

Zhang Kuang stood straight, her neck tilted slightly up, her right hand gripping the sword behind her. The blade lay flush against her back, her loose ink-black hair tangling with the sword like black vines climbing an ivory pillar, carrying a hint of dark energy.

From her brow to the corners of her eyes, following the bridge of her nose, a chill spread inch by inch across her well-defined face. she immersed her long breath into the bitter cold of winter, forging a lonely pride of sword intent.

In an instant, Zhang Kuang moved.

Her toes suddenly exerted force, and her body left the ground, suspended in the air. Her sleeves fluttered, and the golden-embroidered dragon seemed to come to life, arriving with a momentum that could crush everything in its path.

The blade seemed to turn soft in her hand, tangling around her wrist like a silver snake. A sword-flower bloomed abruptly in front of her, the light shimmering.

Zhang Kuang flipped her wrist, and the cold-gleaming sword was like a falcon’s claw, tearing through the sky with sharp momentum. The sword’s shadows were everywhere, layered over the air, dazing the onlookers.

At times like surging clouds, at times like magnificent waves—Zhang Kuang’s sword style shared the same lineage as her “Master,” with leisure and unruliness branded into its core. Every move and stance emphasized a sense of thorough liberation.

After a dozen moves, Zhang Kuang figured it was enough and stopped. The tip of the sword traced a smooth arc, coming to a steady halt in front of her. The cold white surface reflected her profile, tracing a layer of chill onto her clean facial lines. The sharp sword-light didn’t seem to have dissipated; the crowd looked at Zhang Kuang, feeling as though the glint of blades was quenched between her brows, as if the sound of war drums were ringing in their ears.

Zhang Kuang’s breathing was steady, showing no sign of fatigue: “How was it?”

The martial arts instructor was stunned, his lips moving slightly, but not a single word came out.

“Yay—!” Lu Qian cheered, skipping forward: “That was way too cool! Boss, you’re mighty and domineering!!”

Director Li was also shocked. That sword-dancing posture was far too “Zhang Kuang” (arrogant); calling it aggressive would not be an exaggeration. Looking at the other’s beautiful features, for the sake of his own life, he could only secretly push down the improper thoughts that had originally surfaced.

Director Li pulled out a handkerchief, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and asked the instructor: “I think this girl is pretty good. What do you think?”

The instructor shook his head.

He took a deep breath and spoke with a trembling voice: “Master—forgive this ignorant crowd for not recognizing your greatness. Let me be so bold as to say, you should not deign to be here. This tiny stunt double position is burying your strength!”

Zhang Kuang said with some difficulty: “…Actually, I just want to be a martial arts double.”

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