From the moment he saw the "ailment," Lu Ji had no intention of simply dodging the attacks.
With a precision that bordered on self-harm, he dropped his left shoulder back and met the blade head-on with his shoulder.
A dull thud rang out on set as the safety prop collided with his protective gear.
On camera, the immense impact sent a violent shudder through his entire body.
Lu Ji let out a muffled groan, a trace of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. Yet he clenched his teeth, weathering the blow by sheer face of will, the fire in his eyes burning even brighter.
He had used his own body as bait to carve out this fleeting opportunity for a counterattack.
The moment his pursuer's momentum faltered from the recoil—the old force spent and the new force not yet gathered—Lu Ji moved.
Releasing the reins for a split second, he locked his legs around the horse's barrel. Despite the intense pain and violent bumping, his lower body remained incredibly stable.
Using the recoil's momentum to twist his body, he raised the short sword in his hand like an autopsy scalpel. He thrust upward, sliding it through a gap in his pursuer's armor, aiming straight between the third and fourth ribs.
That was the spot where protective aura was hardest to maintain.
If the blade successfully penetrated, it would be enough to pierce the aura and claim a life.
With a loud thud, the protective gear on the first pursuer's chest caved in. Aided by the wires and the momentum of the passing horses, the actor flipped off his saddle and was caught by the cushions already waiting at the landing zone.
At the same time, the second pursuer's sword swept toward Lu Ji, aiming straight for his waist and abdomen.
Without even looking, Lu Ji swept his short sword back, using the spine of the blade to deflect the incoming strike.
The pursuer instinctively leaned aside, causing his offensive to falter.
A ruthless glint flashed in Lu Ji's eyes.
He proactively charged forward, throwing up his left arm and using his hard wrist guard to block the opponent's blade head-on.
Another dull impact echoed across the set.
Sound effects of clashing metal would be added in post-production, but the vibration captured on camera was already realistic enough.
The sheer force numbed Lu Ji's entire arm, yet a tragic smile appeared on his face. Crimson blood dripped down his chin, tracing a stark line along the contour of his face.
He raised a hand and casually wiped his face, only to smear the blood even further, his fingertips stained with dark red.
He was even more ruthless to himself than to his enemies.
Reversing his grip on the short sword with his right hand, Lu Ji pressed the hilt heavily against the opponent's wrist bone. Using the momentum of the two passing horses, he suddenly exerted force from his core, flipping himself downward right beside the edge of the blade.
The short sword scraped along the edge of the opponent's armor.
From the camera's angle, the blade appeared to graze the horse's armor plate, but in reality, there was a safe distance between them.
Old Pal reared and let out a long neigh in response to the equestrian instructor's cue. Aided by special effects squibs and wires, the stuntman flipped out of his saddle and crashed onto the pre-determined landing spot.
The life-or-death struggle came to an end.
Lu Ji's body swayed slightly on horseback.
He looked down at the short sword in his hand, tightening his grip on the hilt, then turned back to look at the enemies struggling in the dust.
Master, so this is the "ailment" you wanted me to see.
Only then did he squeeze the horse's sides, kicking up a cloud of dust as he galloped away without looking back.
The entire sequence possessed a sharp, breathtaking beauty.
“Cut!”
He Chuan pushed himself up from his chair in excitement.
“Good! Now that is Lu Ji!”
Old Hong stared at the playback on the monitor, his eyes filled with shock. “That sense of power... This kid has improved again.”
Jiang Yue slowly rode his horse back to the center of the set.
He dismounted, his breathing somewhat heavy as sweat mixed with grime trickled down from his temples.
Jiang Kaiwen rushed forward immediately. “Yue! Are you crazy? Using your shoulder to block a sword?”
“I had protective gear on.”
Even as Jiang Yue said it, he felt the words lacked conviction. He was too embarrassed to admit that the blow had actually hurt quite a bit. He could only accept the bottle of water, his hand trembling slightly.
He Chuan walked over quickly, looking at him with a complex expression, his admiration tinged with lingering fear.
“Jiang Yue, once this scene airs, it will definitely be a masterpiece. But...”
His gaze stopped, locking onto Jiang Yue's hanging left arm.
The wrist guard had shifted slightly during the second head-on clash with the blade. Its hard inner edge had pressed into his skin, grinding against it along with sweat and grit the entire way.
Near his wrist was a cut scraped open by the displaced guard.
The cut wasn't deep, but the sight of blood seeping from the crack and dripping onto his dirt-covered hand still made everyone's heart tighten.
Jiang Kaiwen noticed it too, and his expression instantly changed.
“Sit down.”
When he uttered those words, he didn't even bother with pleasantries. He shoved the water back into the hands of a crew member, grabbed a first aid kit, and pushed Jiang Yue down onto a nearby folding chair.
Jiang Yue glanced at the wound, cursing his bad luck internally while trying to explain, “It should just be a scrape.”
“Shut up.”
Jiang Kaiwen unzipped the first aid kit. “Nothing you say right now has any credibility with me.”
Old Hong also squatted down to inspect it. He first checked the wrist's range of motion, then had Jiang Yue make a fist, release it, and rotate his wrist a couple of times.
“The bone is fine,” Old Hong said.
“It's just a cut scraped by the edge of the wrist guard. It'll be fine once it's cleaned up and bandaged.”
Only then did He Chuan breathe a small sigh of relief, though his expression remained solemn as he looked at Jiang Yue. “We won't do a safety take for this scene today. The performance was excellent and can be used directly. We'll talk about the rest after your wound is treated.”
Jiang Yue nodded. “I'll follow your lead, Director.”
Jiang Kaiwen, who was currently cleaning his wound, let out a cold snort at those words. “Oh, so you're obedient now.”
Jiang Yue looked down at him unwrapping an iodophor cotton swab and remained silent.
He knew it was best not to say anything right now; otherwise, Kaiwen's next sentence would be a lecture from head to toe.
As the iodophor swab wiped across the cut, the pain finally caught up with him, causing his brow to twitch slightly.
Jiang Kaiwen looked up. “Hurts?”
“It's fine.”
“'It's fine' means it hurts.”
Jiang Kaiwen pressed a piece of gauze over it. “Do you actors think that as long as you don't end up in the hospital, it counts as 'nothing'?”
Jiang Yue thought about it and couldn't help but argue, “I didn't say that.”
“No, you didn't say it.”
Jiang Kaiwen taped down the gauze. “But that's exactly how you act.”
Hearing this, several nearby crew members couldn't help but chuckle in amusement.
He Chuan laughed as well—though he was laughed out of exasperation. He looked at Jiang Yue and said, “I'll accept this take. Don't do any more action scenes with this hand today. Have the set doctor check it again before you head back to the hotel.”
“Understood.”
“Also.”
He Chuan turned to Jiang Kaiwen. “Communicate the injury situation with the studio. If any leaked photos get out, don't let the public start wild speculations.”
Jiang Kaiwen paused. “Leaked photos?”
He Chuan glanced toward the outer perimeter of the outdoor shooting area.
《The Pivot Bone》 had rented a closed outdoor set. The core filming area was heavily guarded with fences, drapes, and security personnel, and major action sequences like the horseback fight were locked down even tighter.
However, the film studio wasn't completely airtight. There were always some cameras lurking around the outer public roads, parking lots, and actors' commuting routes.
Proxy photographers wouldn't just vanish into thin air. While they couldn't get into the core filming area or capture actual footage of the shoot, it was impossible to completely prevent them from taking long-range photos of the actors finishing work.
Although it was physically difficult to stop, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing for promotion.
Official promotional materials were scarce during the filming period, so high-quality, long-range leaked photos could help maintain buzz.
The crew's publicity team would never admit to tolerating proxy photographers, let alone hiring them. However, for leaks that had already made their way out, as long as they didn't contain spoilers or negatively affect the audience's judgment, the team would sometimes go with the flow and monitor how the public reaction developed.
What they truly needed to guard against were proxy photographers crossing the line to break into the core area, taking close-up shots, or leaking key plot points ahead of time, which could seriously disrupt the actors' performances.
Once that happened, security and crew members had to escort them away immediately, or even call the police in severe cases.
Ah Zhe, who had been caught on the commencement day, was a prime example.
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