They declined the Association's offer of a car. Bang insisted on walking—"to feel a city breathe after a great battle is training in itself."
Lin Mo had no objection. Saitama, with nothing else on hand, agreed.
Genos shadowed his teacher closely.
The four made a curious sight along Z City's streets.
A sprinkle of small stones and dust dotted the pavement—but as Sitch had seen on the wall screens, most buildings were intact. Even streetlamps and shop windows were largely unscathed.
Citizens had organized themselves, sweeping with brooms and hosing down sidewalks—joy of survival and hope for tomorrow in the air.
It was a wholly different scene from the original timeline's post-destruction gloom.
Pleased to see a positive impact on this world, Lin Mo found a smile tugging at his lips.
"KING-san, look," Bang gestured at the lively, harmonious scene, emotion creasing his timeworn face.
"Destruction is always easier than protection. To turn power that can annihilate into a shield—that is the highest realm of martial arts."
His eyes dimmed a little, as if at a bitter memory. He shook his head and sighed:
"Chasing only destruction and strength leads nowhere. If only that wayward disciple… could grasp this truth…"
Soft though it was, the others' keen hearing caught it.
Lin Mo knew he meant Garou, but he didn't comment—he simply listened.
Soon they reached the Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist dojo at the city's edge.
The dojo was a simple, elegant Japanese structure steeped in history.
Thankfully, it had indeed escaped damage in the disaster.
A young man in a white gi, timid by air, had been waiting anxiously at the door—Bang's senior disciple, Charanko.
"Master! You're back!" Charanko hurried over, then noticed the three behind Bang—and his heart skipped.
That bald head… the demon cyborg… and that… that man! The strongest man on the surface—KING!
Charanko's knees went watery.
He was a martial artist, yes, but not a strong one; to see such figures made him nervous.
Especially KING—who stood quietly with no sign of the rumored "Emperor Engine" rumble. Even so, at a glance of those three savage scars, Charanko's legs shook.
An inexplicable pressure.
"This is Mr. KING, who saved Z City; the unfathomable Saitama-kun; and his disciple Genos-kun."
Bang introduced them solemnly to his disciple. "Charanko, why are you dawdling? Tea and sweets—go!"
"Y-yes! Mr. KING, hello! Mr. Saitama, hello! Mr. Genos, hello!"
Charanko bowed at ninety degrees, then practically tripped over himself scurrying into the dojo.
Inside, the cool scent of sandalwood and wood greeted them.
The floorboards were spotless. They settled onto the tatami.
Saitama plopped down cross-legged; Genos sat in upright seiza behind his teacher, back straight—ready to learn at any moment.
Charanko quickly brought fragrant gyokuro and trays of beautiful wagashi that looked as pricey as they were pretty.
Saitama's eyes lit up. He grabbed a rabbit-shaped daifuku without ceremony and stuffed it into his mouth. "Mmf… good!"
Bang poured Lin Mo a cup himself—the green tea luminous in white porcelain.
He didn't rush. He chatted a bit with Saitama about sweets; the mood eased.
"Saitama-kun," Bang said, admiring light in his eyes as he watched Saitama eat, "your pure strength opened this old man's eyes. May I ask—who did you study under? Or do you have some unique training method?"
Saitama swallowed, thought carefully, and answered seriously:
"One hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, one hundred squats, ten kilometers of running—every day—for three years."
The dojo fell dead quiet.
Genos, still unable to believe it, said, "Such a regimen is high-intensity for ordinary people—but absolutely cannot produce Teacher's level." He had long filed the claim under "teacher's pretext to avoid revealing the truth."
Bang's mouth twitched. He didn't believe a word.
To him it was the classic line of a top expert unwilling to reveal how he became strong.
Of course—that sort of thing isn't casually shared. He had been presumptuous.
He found the bald youth ever more unfathomable—and ever more a jade worth carving.
But he knew to take it slow.
He turned to Lin Mo, expression becoming deeply respectful:
"The title 'strongest on the surface'—today I see the rumor is no lie. That force you used atop the tower—your control was divine."
"The old man begs to ask: how did you guide such a vast force with such exquisite precision?"
Lin Mo stiffened inside. He lifted the cup, blew gently over the floating leaves, and did not answer at once.
The longer he was silent, the more Bang and Genos anticipated—even Charanko perked up.
Only after stringing them along did Lin Mo set down the cup and deliver a line he'd read in his past life's "style manuals":
"Power is like a river that never stops."
"Some build dams, thinking they can control everything—only to be swallowed by the flood. Some turn waterwheels to irrigate fields—taking but one ladle, yet nourishing all things."
"The strength of the current isn't the key. Guiding it—to flow where you will—depends not on dams or wheels, but on 'will.'"
Genos and Charanko listened, eyes wide—getting the "feeling of greatness" without grasping the meaning.
Saitama nodded as he popped the last sweet into his mouth. It "sounded awesome," at least.
Bang alone jerked as if struck—unprecedented light firing in his eyes.
"Will… that guides the flow…"
He murmured, "I see! We martial artists spend our lives hardening the 'dam,' to contain stronger currents."
"But we've neglected that to truly master the river is to guide it—with 'will'! KING-san… the old man is enlightened!"
[Ding! Martial epiphany detected from S-Class hero 'Silver Fang.' Energy +1000!]
[Ding! Theoretical impact detected from S-Class hero 'Demon Cyborg.' Energy +600!]
The chimes were heaven.
Those past-life, forum-tempered style lines truly worked!
Lin Mo exulted inwardly; his face remained placid as he said only,
"A small insight, that's all."
-------
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