Chapter 10: The Fierce and Ugly Martial Arts Director

The two, having eaten their fill, soon left the restaurant.

Watching the elevator button being pressed, Chen Lifeng couldn’t help asking, “Aren’t you going back to your room?”

“Just ate.”

Li Luo snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head. “Going to the gym to digest. Next up is a martial arts drama—might as well stretch my limbs.”

I’m already playing Lin Pingzhi.

Changing the lead actor doesn’t seem like such a big deal.

Not worth expending energy on.

“Come with me!”

Chen Lifeng nodded quickly. “I’ll change clothes and meet you soon.”

Anyone not too reclusive, upon entering a new environment, instinctively seeks out compatible friends.

They’d chatted happily over dinner.

Li Luo’s clean, handsome appearance naturally won her favor, so she had no objection to spending more time with him. Though Yi Lin’s action scenes were limited, she still needed extra practice.

“No problem.”

Looking at Chen Lifeng’s blinking eyes, Li Luo found no reason to refuse.

As the elevator doors closed, the petite nun vanished from view. Li Luo scratched his chin and strolled cheerfully toward the gym.

It had been a long time since he earned a indulgence reward.

Perhaps he could find a way to break through with her.

The “Swordsman” crew involved heavy combat, so actors were strongly encouraged to prepare in advance. The large gym had been mostly cleared out, leaving only a few pieces of equipment.

According to the schedule.

In a few days, they’d begin unified training here.

Regardless of how effective the training was, at least it would give these actors some semblance of discipline—they couldn’t be fumbling with swords like beginners.

He strolled on the treadmill for a while.

Feeling digestion was complete, Li Luo swung his arms and walked over to the side.

Wooden racks held a dense array of prop swords—long and short, varied in design. The prop team had put real effort into the details.

He picked a sword of suitable length and drew it casually.

The blade gleamed like snow.

Its heavy weight felt excellent.

Nothing like the wooden swords he’d used in Hengdian.

“Ding~”

He flicked his finger against the blade, making it hum.

Real steel!

Li Luo’s eyes lit up.

Though unsharpened, the feel of a real sword in hand was entirely different. Intrigued, he formed a sword grip, spun, and lunged forward.

“Swoosh~”

A rush of air sounded.

He twirled the blade, stepped forward in a thrust, then retreated, sweeping the sword left and right.

He kicked, then delivered a backstab.

Li Luo moved nimbly through the vast gym, thrusting his sword from every angle. His superior physique made his motions fluid and expansive.

Though it was a skill, he didn’t take it lightly.

He had to practice regularly to master it effortlessly.

As he focused on his swordplay, several men entered the gym with a rush. They were of average height but solidly built, their faces bearing a hint of menace—clearly no good guys.

Seeing the props being used, they looked displeased.

“Eh~”

But seeing Li Luo’s movements were disciplined, their expressions shifted slightly. The slick-haired man crossed his arms and said in surprise, “Oi, this young fella’s got some real form!”

“Wonder if he ever ate night porridge.”

“Acting all fancy.”

Another man scratched his buzzcut, sneering, “Boss Can take him down with one hand!”

“Hahaha.”

The other two burst into laughter.

“Shut up.”

The middle-aged man in the center turned and glared. “If you’ve got something to say, say it properly. Don’t you know any rules? How many times have I taught you?”

His face hardened, and the four young men fell silent immediately.

After reprimanding them.

The middle-aged man turned his full attention to Li Luo.

Having immersed himself in this field for decades, he could spot things at a glance. Though the young man’s movements were slightly clumsy, to him, they were clearly practiced.

Not just random flailing.

Li Luo heard every word they said, even though they spoke Cantonese.

But to him,

It was no different from hearing his native dialect.

They were just commenting that he moved with style, like he’d trained in kung fu, and someone joked he could be taken down with one hand.

Finally, their leader scolded them for lacking manners.

But that “young fella” comment pleased him, so he didn’t mind their pointing and whispering.

He twisted his wrist and casually slung the long sword over his shoulder.

Then smiled and nodded at them.

Whoever they were, proper courtesy couldn’t be skipped.

“Young brother.”

The middle-aged man stepped forward, his slightly fierce and ugly face twisting into a smile. “Are you also with the ‘Swordsman’ crew? What sword style did you just practice?”

His voice was very hoarse.

Surprisingly, his Mandarin was quite good.

“Yes.”

Li Luo stood tall with the sword on his back, raising an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“Yuan Bin.”

The man extended a large, calloused hand, his voice strong. “Let me introduce myself—I’m the martial arts director for the crew.”

As a behind-the-scenes figure,

Not being recognized was common, and he didn’t mind. He was instead intrigued by Li Luo—unexpectedly, he’d met someone with real kung fu skills. A pleasant surprise.

Having spent decades in the industry, Yuan Bin carried his own pride.

Especially in his line of work.

Without a bit of temper and authority, you couldn’t control anyone.

But before someone with real ability, he had no problem lowering his guard to make connections. Few things still interested him—martial arts was one of them.

Yuan Bin!

Li Luo narrowed his eyes, slightly surprised.

He’d never met him.

But he’d heard the name.

No reason other than his brothers were too famous: before him, international superstar Fong Lung; after him, Hong Kong’s top dog, Boss Yuan Qiu and Suit-Wearing Thug Yuan Hua—all members of the Seven Little Fortunes.

In martial arts choreography, this group held half the industry.

“Director Yuan, nice to meet you.”

Li Luo shook Yuan Bin’s calloused hand, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you just now. My apologies.”

Never mind the Seven Little Fortunes.

He was a martial arts director—his word carried weight.

Whether I look good in action scenes

Depends entirely on him.

Knowing the Seven Stars Sword Art is one thing; how I perform on screen is another. Most actors can’t improvise—they must follow the martial arts director’s choreography.

Having martial arts training just makes my performance more visually impressive.

“Forget that.”

After letting go, Yuan Bin asked eagerly, “Young brother, what’s the name of that sword form you just showed? Can you do it again?”

“Do we really need to do this~”

The buzzcut man behind him muttered in Cantonese, “These two moves? Any of us could do them. This young fella’s too young—I doubt he’s got real skill.”

“Calling me ‘young fella’ is fine.”

Li Luo, with sharp hearing, looked at him with amusement. “But can you drop the ‘dead’?”

At the time, most Hong Kongers were arrogant.

Taking advantage of others not understanding the dialect, he always loved to chatter away nonsense.

When the short-haired man heard Li Luo speak fluent, clear Mandarin, his face turned as red as a liver.