Chapter 43 Nuo Opera

A young woman from the theater troupe came out and took the weeping girl in her arms, comforting her, "Don't cry, Ugly. From now on, you'll follow Aunt Mei."
As soon as the guests left, the old man shed his disguise and his face lost its previous calm and coldness.
Bowing respectfully, he said: "Mr. Zhang, after this brief meeting, I hope you will take care of this humble one."
"I dare not, I dare not. As a young actor who specializes in playing feminine roles, I am not qualified to be a big brother."
The old man said, "You spoke out of turn."
Shop owner Zhang wore a plain long robe, although male, already had the mannerisms of a young girl.
This is a performer singing the role of Xiao Dan, who has mastered the essence of the art form but has no trace of girlish charm on her face.
"Old sir, although Sichuan opera has many transitions in one act, it can't compare to the unique medicinal soup brewed by the master!"
The old man's face showed an unnatural expression as he evaded, "I can't accept it. I've worked half my life for this play, so let it be buried with me in my coffin! Don't let future generations suffer like me."
"Master, each person has their own dreams. Even a general won't dismount their horse, as everyone rushes towards their own future."
They said goodbye, and the old man, after resolving his emotional ties, embarked on his final journey.
"Wearing a mask is divine, removing it makes you human."
The old man wandered the rivers and lakes for decades and was not a person without a family emblem. In a village named Jin in Bai Shuihe, southern Anhui, they wear masks on the 15th day of the Lunar New Year to send off the Nuo God for a good harvest in the coming year.
In their ancestral hall, there are twenty-four "faces" enshrined, which are also said to represent the twenty-four Heavenly Spirits.
Among the earliest migrants to Baishui River were the "Thirty-Six Heavenly Generals," a group of thirty-six deities.
The old man still remembers the day he turned 28 and put on his "mask" for the first time. The strange opera voice that he had practiced countless times did not hesitate at this moment. On the day of the performance, he felt like he was the "Nuó".
But he never thought that putting on this mask would be a curse, and he couldn't bear the thought of his descendants being burdened as he was.
Tradition is passed down from generation to generation, and he too would pass on the mask to his own son, so he crossed over the mountains and through the poisonous swamps, leaving the place where he was born and raised.
He took out a small box from the chest, which was covered in dust and had obviously not been opened for a long time.
He gently opened the lock and inside the box was a neatly arranged "face".
A white face with black stripes drawn on it, with a predominantly black and white color scheme, but with a gold vertical pupil mark at the brow.
It still looks as clean and new as ever, and the old man's face shows both fear and nostalgia.
His ability to change his face also comes from this "face", but he can no longer bear the voice in his head.
"Put it on, put it on."
As long as he puts on the mask, he will become an irrational mountain demon. When he dies, the mask will return to the hands of his successor one by one.
The old man understood. It was probably because they didn't want to pass the curse onto their descendants that the remaining twelve masks in the village were lost.
That is a curse engraved in the blood. The lineage will pass down the mask from generation to generation, and if there are no offspring to choose a successor, the curse will continue in another way.
He took out his portable machete and made a quick move, and in an instant blood gushed from the neck and sprayed onto the pristine mask.
The golden vertical pupils glittered in the sunlight, as if anticipating someone to see their existence.
Surrounded by desolation and with no signs of human life for miles around, this is a long-abandoned mountain god temple, where the altar is covered in cobwebs and there are no offerings or candles in sight.
Throughout the ages, people have sought the help of gods, but when clay idols fail to grant the wishes of villagers, it's no wonder that the temple is empty and deserted.
……
Cui Chong is dressed in traditional Chinese clothing with his hair tied up, and passersby on the street take no notice as it is a common sight in this city where there are also Chinese men wearing braids and Western clothing!
Behind him is a shadowy man and also a young man who looks quite young.
"Father, the governor has ordered you to bring this person back. Is it possible that our Peng family will prosper?"
The man touched the two strands of his mustache on his lips. If I had not followed him for so long, I'm afraid I wouldn't even recognize the person in front of me.
From a beggar named Huaizi to a Taoist named Niubizi, he didn't like either identity.
"Hmph, my grandfather is too old-fashioned, he'd rather pass on his unique skills to my fellow disciples than to me. But I will only pass on these skills to you!"
He is a cautious person, and he complains that if he had the Monkey Fist technique, he would not be so timid as he is now.
"I'll send someone to scout ahead, and we'll hide in the shadows and wait for our chance."
Cui Chong never expected that someone would be so bold as to commit violence openly on the street.
With his keen ears and eyes, he could hear rapid footsteps approaching from behind and the sound of a knife cutting through the air as if it were right beside him.
A single-bladed attack came from behind in an instant, but he easily kicked the person in the chest, causing them to retreat several meters.
However, the real killing move was a palm strike from behind, and the one with the knife was just a cover-up for the actual attack.
"Tai Chi Kung Fu is really interesting. Are all the demons, ghosts and snakes coming out?"
The person who took the shot had a cold expression, and the long gown and horse coat trembled slightly behind him with the hand he backed. He knew well the horror of the person in front of him.
He urged his palm to strike again, but when Cui Chong tried to avoid it, he felt as if he was hit by some kind of force.
Obviously there was no contact between the palm and the body, but when he punched at his chest, his body achieved a strange balance, not only taking off his own strength, but also feeling a resistance with his fist.
This is not the Tai Chi kung fu I imagined. It's more like the legendary inner strength, and the invisible force is truly amazing.
Cui Chong squinted his eyes, without any worries, and acted decisively.
Qu shou bi zhua: bend the wrist into a claw and grab towards the opponent's wrist. Even though the immediate goal is still for the opponent to counterattack with the same move, Cui Chong's mouth curls up into a smile.
He appears to be using grappling techniques, but in reality he kicks towards the opponent's lower right shin bone.
He was completely unprepared, and his combat experience was much less than that of Cui Chong.
The opponent screamed in pain as their shinbone was crushed under this kick in a comminuted fracture.
When facing an enemy with murderous intent, he never shows mercy. When the opponent falls to his knees, he kicks them directly in the chin without hesitation.
The entire fight has only lasted for a moment, and the outcome of life and death has been determined in an instant.
"Boom!"
Only a gunshot was heard, but his reaction was fast enough but his arm was still hit by the bullet. The other side obviously intended to continue shooting.
A ball of flames appeared in his palm, with a diameter of about one meter, directly blocking all of the enemy's attacks.