Chapter 71: More Difficult Than Imagined

Before the several martial artists could react.

Li Luo suddenly changed his movement; in the instant he turned, his elbow slashed forward like a blade, carrying a rush of force straight at Lin Can, who staggered back two steps in alarm.

Muay Thai is known for its ferocity and power.

It uses punches, kicks, knees, and elbows—leveraging the entire body as weapons.

The essence of its power lies.

In twisting the body to snap the fists, feet, elbows, and knees like whips.

It possesses exceptional practical combat ability.

His in-depth study with Bian Xiaoxiao in the tent had granted Li Luo beginner-level Muay Thai, raising his physical stats to 73; exhilarated, he immediately assumed the stance.

This martial art is exceptionally fierce and visually striking.

It might spark some inspiration in the opponent.

“Stop, stop, stop.”

Seeing his fluid stance, Yuan Bin hurriedly called out: “You kid, when did you learn Muay Thai?”

“No good—one elbow strike could do it.”

“If you don’t control the force, you’ll injure someone!”

Elbows like blades—many combat competitions strictly forbid elbow strikes.

He didn’t want to take that risk.

“True.”

Li Luo reluctantly dropped the stance and made up an excuse: “Don’t you guys ever go online? There’s every kind of martial art there—just mimic a few moves for a while and you’ll look decent.”

“Forget it, follow my routine.”

Yuan Bin shook his head and began guiding the next combat movements.

Too bad Baoqiang had already gone to shoot Blind Well—otherwise he could’ve offered advice; after all, he didn’t just sit idly at Shaolin Temple—he had real skills.

In the original novel, Zhang Wuji mediated the conflict between the Six Sects and the Ming Cult, with countless dazzling duels.

But in the Su version of The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber.

This plotline completely fails to convey the fight scenes.

It’s utterly pathetic.

With Yuan Bin as the action choreographer, this weakness was successfully addressed; yesterday’s fight scene with Yin Tianzheng was quite impressive, and Zhang Wuji successfully defeated the Kongtong Sect.

Now it’s time for the Shaolin Dragon Claw Hand.

The actor is already elderly and can’t perform the moves himself.

Desperate, Du Yun had to shave his head, attach a fake beard, and Lin Can, dressed as Miejue Shitai, stepped forward holding the Yi Tian Sword—causing the entire martial arts crew to burst into laughter on set.

After going through the moves a few times, another brief break arrived.

“How do you feel?”

Li Luo wiped sweat from his face and walked over to his classmates.

“I can only say.”

Wang Luodan spoke honestly: “It’s more complicated than we imagined.”

We thought we’d immediately see big action, but after sitting for half an hour, we just watched rehearsal after rehearsal.

But Li Luo just took a hard fall.

It scared us all.

We haven’t even started filming yet, and he’s already drenched in sweat.

The difficulty of martial arts scenes is clear.

“Are you okay?”

Huang Sheng twisted open a bottle of mineral water and stood to hand it to Li Luo.

But her motion suddenly froze.

Because someone beside her had made the same move.

“Thanks,” Li Luo accepted both bottles with ease and smiled at Bian Xiaoxiao and Huang Sheng: “How did you know I was thirsty? In this weather, you can’t go without water.”

Jia Nailiang chuckled and secretly gave him a thumbs-up.

He ignored the guy’s gesture.

After taking a long sip from each bottle, he shook his head and explained: “Looks dangerous, but the professional martial artists know their limits.”

“We’re about to start filming.”

Li Luo raised an eyebrow and asked: “Have you decided which sect you want to join?”

“Emei!”

The three female classmates raised their hands in unison.

Among all the sects, only Emei lets you wear skirts.

“Ming Cult, Wudang.”

The male classmates had different choices.

Now that they could finally join in, their faces glowed with barely contained excitement.

Li Luo had Lai Shuiqing’s assistant take the male classmates to change clothes, then signaled the girls to sit and went to fetch three clean white dresses and hairpieces.

At his call, the three girls followed him back to the actor’s rest area.

They ran into Gao Yuanyuan.

Before he could speak, the girl saw him and turned pale as if seeing a ghost, then hurriedly dashed off to one side.

Li Luo was utterly baffled.

“Zihan.”

He turned to someone else: “Can I borrow the makeup room?”

She has little today—maybe no screen time at all.

But since she got the notice,

She still had to come.

Waiting on standby is part of an actor’s job.

“No problem.”

Chen Zihan stood up and took the clothes from Li Luo: “Leave the juniors to me—you go ahead.”

In a flash, the sun had baked the ground into a golden shimmer.

The lighting conditions were nearly identical to yesterday’s scene shift; under the assistant director’s command, the set became as chaotic as a marketplace, with actors rushing to their designated positions.

The Ming Cult members lay sprawled, sitting cross-legged on the altar.

The Six Sects weren’t idle either.

They formed a large semicircle around the altar.

Bian Xiaoxiao and the others nervously followed behind Lin Jing, who played Ding Minjun.

Now they all wore white dresses and held prop swords.

To avoid stealing focus,

Their faces were painted with dull, muted makeup.

They glanced at each other, eyes brimming with suppressed excitement.

But Bian Xiaoxiao was deeply puzzled—why did Zhou Zhiruo, standing at the front and dressed so brilliantly, keep glancing back at her, with such a strange expression?

No time for speculation—the filming began.

She quickly gathered her thoughts.

Became background.

They’d always said Li Luo was the male lead, but none of the classmates had truly felt it.

Now that filming had officially started, the impact hit them all at once.

The entire set, including extras, had over a hundred people—yet all of them were merely background, watching Li Luo stand alone in the center.

Every martial move struck with fierce energy.

Wires were hoisted.

He performed high-difficulty stunts.

They deeply felt the gap between themselves and Li Luo—so vast it was impossible to envy; their gazes, filled with admiration, kept landing on him.

The filming process was even more grueling than imagined.

Their feet went numb from standing, and the blazing sun left them dizzy and drained.

They were still lucky.

Every hour, several crew members surrounded Li Luo—someone reapplied makeup, someone waved a fan furiously at his soaked undershirt, others kept feeding him water.

Filming isn’t just flowers and applause—it demands immense sweat behind the scenes.

When it came to Gao Yuanyuan’s scene, Lai Shuiqing grew anxious.

But he never expected that whenever she met Li Luo’s gaze, she could portray that nervousness with uncanny depth.

Her bright eyes were brimming with performance.

He couldn’t help slapping his thigh—how had her acting improved so suddenly?

As the sun sank westward, the day’s scenes neared their end.

Under Zhang Tielin’s leadership, the Ming Cult followers knelt on one knee before Li Luo, solemnly raised their hands, and shouted in unison: “We thank Young Master Zhang for saving our Cult!”

The sound echoed repeatedly through the valley.

“Uncle Yang.”

Li Luo rushed forward in desperation, his knees sliding to the ground as he grabbed Yang Xiao and Bai Meiying, muttering, “No, no!”

“Puff~”

The blood pouch burst, spewing a mouthful of blood.

His eyes glazed over, and he fainted without resistance.