Cunjin Martial Arts Hall, main hall.
The air held a faint blend of sandalwood and aged wood wax. It was the sort of scent that naturally calmed the mind.
But at this moment, Fu Hua's heart was anything but calm.
This acting sect leader of the Taixu Sect—usually as steady as a mountain, a young grandmaster who had inherited her role at fifteen—was pacing anxiously back and forth in front of the portrait of the founding master.
After three full laps, she stopped, adjusted her red-framed glasses, and turned to look at Su Mei, who was leisurely sipping tea nearby.
"Mei-jie, this outfit… is it really appropriate? Doesn't it look too casual?"
Fu Hua and her disciples all addressed one another according to their own logic. Though the disciples called Fu Hua "Master," Fu Hua herself called Su Mei and the others "jie" and "ge."
After all, she had technically accepted them in her father's name, which made the hierarchy a tangled mess. In the end, everyone simply settled on addressing each other however was convenient.
Today Fu Hua was wearing that dark stand-collar Tang suit she normally could not bear to wear, only taking it out on major holidays.
It had been a birthday gift from Eden. Fu Hua had always stored it carefully on its own.
She had fastened every button right up to the top. There was not a single wrinkle in sight.
Su Mei set down her teacup. Her beautiful phoenix eyes narrowed slightly, and a meaningful smile played at the edge of her lips.
"Master, you've asked that eight times already."
Today she had specially taken time off from work and traded her usual business attire for a light-colored modernized qipao with a cashmere shawl over it.
Elegant, flattering, restrained without being flashy. The kind of outfit that perfectly said: I know the rules, and I've seen the world.
"Don't worry. The way you look right now, forget meeting Little Martial Ancestor—you'd be fit for a state banquet."
Su Mei smiled as she comforted her. To be honest, seeing their usually expressionless little master this flustered was rather entertaining.
Fu Hua, after all, had been old long before her time. That had always made Su Mei's heart ache.
Fu Hua's most innocent, most carefree years of youth had all been poured into martial arts. Her life was far too regimented—almost a straight line between school, the dojo, and home—and even at school she barely had any friends.
Sure, Fu Hua now looked so anxious it bordered on panic.
But even that was better than her usual blank, emotionless poker face.
That kind of existence was too bitter.
"It's not that simple."
Fu Hua sighed and sat back down in the grandmaster's chair, her spine still ramrod straight.
"Little Martial Uncle is, after all, a direct inheritor of the Taixu lineage. She is our elder. And from what I hear, she has lived in seclusion in the mountains for years. Her temperament must be lofty and pure, and she must place great importance on etiquette."
Her brow furrowed slightly.
"If we fail in our manners, we won't only disgrace Taixu—we may also offend our elder."
Fu Hua turned to Su Mei and added another warning.
"Mei-jie, when she gets here, absolutely do not bring up your business ideas. A worldly smell of money is what people like Little Martial Uncle despise most. Those things of yours—streaming, traffic, publicity—not a single word, understood?"
Su Mei nodded obediently. "Yes, yes, yes. Your disciple understands. Today I'm just here to pour tea and water. I won't say anything unnecessary."
Bring it up? Of course not.
After all, the cooperation agreement had already been signed with the Eldest Senior Brother himself. Mentioning it now would only hurt feelings.
Watching Fu Hua sit there like she was facing a great enemy, Su Mei could only give Su Yu silent praise in her heart.
That man's ability to spin a story was truly awe-inspiring.
To fool Master to this extent—well, that was talent.
"Master…"
Lin Zhaoyu, who had been standing off to the side in silence until now, finally could not hold back anymore.
She was wearing a dark blue cotton-linen dress today, her hair simply pinned up. In her hand was still a cleaning rag, which clearly meant she had just finished wiping down the dojo from top to bottom again.
This general manager and household steward of Cunjin Martial Arts Hall looked even more worried than Fu Hua.
"That Little Martial Uncle… is she really as formidable as the stories say? And what if—what if, I mean—she's dissatisfied with the way our dojo is run? What if she wants to take back the sect leader's authority or…"
Lin Zhaoyu did not dare continue, but the anxiety in her eyes was overflowing.
To her, the dojo really was home, and Fu Hua was the sky above it.
If some so-called martial aunt suddenly appeared and began pointing fingers, or worse, tearing that home apart, she would not know what to do.
"Senior Sister, just relax."
Before Fu Hua could answer, Su Mei spoke first.
She went over and looped an arm affectionately through Lin Zhaoyu's, gently patting the back of her hand.
"Even though I haven't met this Little Martial Ancestor myself, I… ahem, had someone cast a divination about her."
Su Mei blinked, tone full of certainty.
"The hexagram said she's the dojo's great benefactor."
"Not only is she highly skilled, but her personality is… very easygoing. She absolutely won't be some impossible old relic to deal with. Just think of it as a distant relative coming to visit and treat her normally."
Lin Zhaoyu glanced at Su Mei suspiciously.
"Junior Sister, why do you sound… like you know this Little Martial Uncle pretty well?"
Su Mei's smile stiffened for a fraction of a second, but returned just as fast.
"Oh, that's just intuition! Women's intuition!"
She laughed it off and shifted her gaze to the long bench in the corner.
Someone was lying there.
Fifth Junior Sister, Cheng Lingshuang.
This genius, said to possess the highest natural talent Taixu had seen in a century, was currently wearing a sleep mask with a cartoon salted fish printed on it, covered with a coat, and sleeping as though the heavens themselves could collapse without disturbing her.
Even with the tension in the hall thick enough to congeal, she was still breathing in a faint, comfortable rhythm.
For this particular disciple, the biggest matters in life were eating and sleeping.
Her philosophy was one of ease and pleasure.
Su Mei had once tried to use her network to package Fifth Junior Sister as well. After all, the image of a lazy genius beauty was hugely marketable online.
But in the end, the idea had failed.
Not because Cheng Lingshuang was another "little old stick-in-the-mud" like Fu Hua.
It was for a reason so simple it defied belief.
She was lazy.
If she could sit, she would never stand.
If she could lie down, she would never sit.
Marketing? Streaming? Public presence?
Too exhausting.
At one point, she had even asked, "Can I livestream myself sleeping, Senior Sister?"
Su Mei had nearly choked on the spot.
Still, after today, the sky over this dojo might truly change.
If it was this Little Martial Ancestor, perhaps she really could stir this stagnant pool to life.
"Fifth Junior Sister really has it figured out," Su Mei murmured.
She walked over and poked the exposed half of Cheng Lingshuang's calf.
"Wake up, oh divine young lady. If Little Martial Ancestor sees you like this later, she might kick you right out of the sect."
Cheng Lingshuang twitched, rolled over, and buried her face deeper into the coat. Her muffled voice drifted out.
"Wake me when she gets here. Haven't eaten. No strength to move."
Su Mei: "…"
Fu Hua: "…"
Looking at the bunch of misfits filling the room, Fu Hua felt that perhaps what she really needed today was not tea, but heart medicine.
One disciple had a brain full of business schemes.
Another fussed so much she looked like a mother hen.
And the genius Fifth Disciple was a professional corpse.
Fu Hua had originally intended to gather all the disciples together today, but aside from Ma Feima—who was still on the way—the others all claimed to have something else to do and could not make it.
To neglect a first meeting with Little Martial Uncle like this…
Did the future of Taixu truly still have any hope?
Just as Fu Hua sank into deep self-doubt—
Bang!
A huge crash rang out as the heavy redwood doors of the dojo were shoved open from outside.
A tall, heavily built figure stood framed in the doorway against the light.
Ma Feima.
He was wearing a black compression tank top beneath an open leather jacket. Around his neck hung a thick gold chain—the prize from an underground fighting championship he had won.
His face was broad and rough, his eyes sharp enough to look like they were here to collect debts.
He strode inside, each step thudding heavily against the floorboards. His gaze swept across the hall like a searchlight before finally landing on Fu Hua.
"Master, where is this person?"
His booming voice echoed through the empty hall, shaking dust from the rafters.
"That so-called Little Martial Ancestor isn't here yet? Don't tell me she heard I, Ma Feima, was coming and got too scared to show up."
He cracked his fists, the joints popping like firecrackers.
"Hmph. I knew it. These days, it's either frauds or charlatans."
"And really, Master, you believed this nonsense? You actually told us to assemble for it? I'd like to see what sort of deity dares to put on airs in front of me!"
Fu Hua frowned and was just about to reprimand him.
But at that moment, the figure in the corner who had been lying there like a corpse suddenly reached up and pulled off the eye mask.
Cheng Lingshuang's half-lidded dead-fish eyes turned cold as she shot Ma Feima a glance.
"You're noisy."
Only three words.
Not loud.
Yet somehow, they sent a chill down the spine.
Ma Feima's imposing aura faltered instantly.
In this dojo, there was no one he truly feared.
He would even argue with Fu Hua herself.
But this Fifth Senior Sister—the one who usually could not be bothered to move—
Her, he genuinely found a little terrifying.
After all, when he had first entered the sect and been just as arrogant, Cheng Lingshuang had beaten the confidence out of him in three moves using nothing more than the half-eaten stick of a popsicle.
"Ahem…"
Ma Feima cleared his throat, his voice dropping by at least two levels in volume, though he still kept his chin up.
"Fifth Senior Sister, you can go back to sleep. I'm just… just here to check our gate and make sure no cats or dogs sneak into Taixu pretending to be masters."
Su Mei, meanwhile, lifted her teacup and gently blew aside the foam, a gleam of anticipation flashing in her eyes.
…
As the clock struck ten, the heavy vermilion doors were pushed open.
Su Yu entered with Kiana beside him, and in that instant, the air in the previously solemn hall seemed to change.
"Senior Brother Su! Little Martial Uncle!"
The moment their silhouettes moved, Fu Hua rushed forward.
This usually composed sect leader of Taixu, a woman who normally remained unmoved even in the face of disaster, was now moving so fast she almost seemed to bring a gust of wind with her.
Lin Zhaoyu and Su Mei exchanged a glance and could only follow behind helplessly.
"The honor of your presence truly brings light to Cunjin Martial Arts Hall."
Fu Hua stopped before them, clasped her fists and bowed in a perfectly formal salute.
"The last time in the convenience store, this disciple was blind and failed to recognize Little Martial Uncle's true identity. I was discourteous and disrespectful. I beg Little Martial Uncle's forgiveness!"
The moment this grand apology landed, Kiana—who had just stepped over the threshold—almost lost her footing.
She instinctively shrank half a step behind Su Yu. The half-empty bottle of iced black tea in her hand suddenly felt incredibly awkward.
This was…
Way too much.
Kiana was a little dazed.
Sure, Su Yu had spent all of last night giving her mental preparation, saying that Fu Hua in this world was an honest person who respected her elders to an absurd degree.
But this contrast was too extreme.
That old-school class monitor. That Fu Hua who always had the word rules on her lips.
And now she was bowing and apologizing to her?
Kiana looked helplessly toward Su Yu.
Su Yu returned a look that said, Stay calm. You can do this, then covertly pointed at the drink in her hand, reminding her to stick to the original plan: just act naturally.
Kiana took a deep breath.
All right.
Be natural.
If she did not understand something, then she would simply ask.
"What convenience store?"
The girl's bright, clear voice rang out through the hall, carrying genuine confusion and an almost casual indifference.
She blinked those mismatched eyes, pure and guileless in a way that made her look like an absolute dork.
The hall fell silent for a second.
Then Fu Hua suddenly raised her head, pupils contracting violently.
In that instant, it was as if lightning had struck the crown of her head, setting her blood boiling.
So that was it.
Fu Hua stared at the innocent-looking girl in front of her, and the shock in her heart surged like a tidal wave.
Little Martial Uncle… was preserving her dignity!
As the elder, she had been offended by a junior.
Had it been anyone else, they might have let the matter pass, but they still would have made a point of reminding the junior of proper conduct.
But Little Martial Uncle?
She had simply "forgotten" the whole thing.
That one sentence—What convenience store?—so lightly wiped away Fu Hua's embarrassment. She was even pretending it had been an insignificant matter, all to spare Fu Hua from losing face before her disciples.
What breadth of heart was this?
What gentleness?
This was exactly the realm of the true master: returning to simplicity, great form without shape!
Fu Hua's eyes reddened slightly. She bowed deeply once more, her voice even trembling a little.
"Yes… this disciple understands. Let bygones be bygones. Little Martial Uncle's state of mind has taught me a lesson!"
Kiana: "???"
She scratched her head in confusion, the ahoge atop it wobbling with the motion.
What had she understood?
The convenience store?
Was that not just the convenience store Su Yu had chased her into on her first day in this world?
What offense? What disrespect?
Hadn't Fu Hua given her food and water and even lent her clothes?
Standing to one side, Su Yu desperately suppressed his laughter.
She'd over-interpreted it. Completely.
Class Monitor, if you applied this level of imagination to game design, my title would have conquered the world already.
Of course, not everyone present was as easily fooled as Fu Hua.
Lin Zhaoyu stood behind her, still wearing a polite smile, but her gaze was quietly sweeping Kiana up and down.
Too young.
That was her first impression.
This "Little Martial Ancestor" whom Master revered so highly looked like a minor.
She was wearing a loose training outfit. The wrists visible beneath the sleeves were slender and pale, without even the thick calluses that real martial artists usually had.
And the way she walked was too relaxed. There was none of that rooted firmness one expected in a trained fighter. If anything, she looked like a high school girl just released after classes.
A child like this was supposed to be the legendary inheritor of Taixu?
Some Little Martial Ancestor?
Alarm bells rang in Lin Zhaoyu's mind.
She knew Master's single-minded nature too well. There had been times when Fu Hua could practically get scammed and still help the scammer count the money.
Instinctively, Lin Zhaoyu turned to look toward the reclining bench in the corner.
Cheng Lingshuang was still wrapped in her blanket, not even bothering to roll over—like a dried salted fish left out to sun.
Lin Zhaoyu's heart skipped.
This was bad.
If even Fifth Junior Sister, who was the most sensitive of them all to the aura of strong fighters, had no reaction whatsoever, then it meant this girl had no aura of power at all.
Then they were in real trouble…
The person also observing Cheng Lingshuang was the burly man standing by the weapon rack.
Ma Feima.
His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles straining against his fitted tank top.
His vicious eyes swept over Kiana once, a sneer of contempt appearing on his face, and then shifted to Cheng Lingshuang in the corner.
He was waiting.
If even Fifth Senior Sister—who ordinarily had standards higher than the clouds—could not be bothered to open her eyes, then this so-called Little Martial Ancestor was clearly nothing worth paying attention to.
One second.
Two seconds.
The person on the bench did not move.
The sneer on Ma Feima's face bloomed fully.
Hah. Just as he thought. A fake.
If she had real skill, Fifth Senior Sister would have been on her feet already.
He uncrossed his arms and rolled his neck, producing a loud crack-crack of joints.
The killing aura around him surged like that of a tiger about to pounce and rip apart this ridiculous lie.
He strode forward like a moving mountain and directly blocked their path.
"My name is Ma Feima. Sixth Disciple of Cunjin."
He clasped his fists. The gesture itself was proper, but his bull-like eyes were full of challenge.
"I've heard that Little Martial Ancestor has mastered Taixu's true transmission, and that your fist techniques border on the divine. I'm a rough man—I don't understand all those roundabout things. I only wish to ask Little Martial Ancestor to… trade a few moves with me. Offer a little guidance."
Lin Zhaoyu's expression changed. She was just about to step in.
"Old Six, you—"
But in that very instant—
Faced with the fierce aura pouring off Ma Feima, Kiana—who until now had still looked confused, maybe even a little ready to hide—suddenly changed.
It was instinct.
The kind of instinct carved into bone through battlefields and countless brushes with death.
Her body stopped all meaningless micro-movements at once.
Her previously relaxed posture adjusted itself in 0.1 seconds into the optimal angle for explosive force.
The confusion and innocence vanished from her eyes, replaced by a cold, terrifying concentration—like a predator looking at prey that had already died.
Buzz—
It was as though some invisible string in the air had snapped.
And in that exact moment—
Cheng Lingshuang, who had been playing dead in the corner, abruptly opened her eyes.
Whoosh!
She ripped off her cartoon salted-fish sleep mask. The half-lidded drowsiness was gone. Her eyes were now wide open, locked firmly on Kiana.
At that moment, Cheng Lingshuang felt a chill.
A chill that came from deep in the marrow—the instinctive terror one felt only when facing an apex predator.
How was this possible…?
Her fingers dug hard into the armrest of the reclining bench.
In her perception, that harmless-looking girl from moments ago—almost adorably clueless—had undergone a complete transformation the instant she entered a combat stance.
It was pressure.
The suffocating pressure of someone forged through countless life-and-death battles.
Every muscle in her body had shifted into its optimal state for movement. Her breathing had become long and hidden. Every tiny motion was laying the groundwork for a lethal burst.
Interesting…
Far too interesting.
A trace of feverish excitement began to ignite in Cheng Lingshuang's eyes. It was the thrill of encountering her own kind.
Or perhaps something even worse than that.
That was not a human at all.
That was a humanoid tyrannosaur wearing the skin of a young girl.
Unfortunately, aside from Su Yu standing farthest back, everyone else's attention had already been captured by the impending clash.
No one noticed the look on the genius girl's face.
At the center of the practice hall, the atmosphere was thick enough with gunpowder to explode.
Ma Feima stood like an enraged bull, snorting through his nose, muscles swelling all over his body until the poor fitted tank top looked one flex away from bursting.
Kiana, by contrast, simply stood there.
That brief surge of murderous intent from a moment ago was now nowhere to be seen, completely reined back into her body.
Her hands hung naturally at her sides. Her stance looked loose and full of openings.
But in the eyes of those who knew what they were seeing, this was victory without form.
Su Yu stood at her side and lowered his voice, his tone carrying the teasing that only the two of them understood.
"Well? How's this touchstone? Good enough? Feeling confident?"
Kiana glanced at Ma Feima, who was rolling his wrists on the opposite side, and answered with almost no emotion.
"He looks like he's got decent strength. Stable footing, too."
Her tone was so calm it sounded like she was evaluating cuts of pork at a market.
"A little worse than Captain Lewis. But among ordinary people, he should count as pretty capable."
Lewis.
The devil instructor of Sky City Police Department's SWAT unit. Rumor said he had once been a legendary ace in the special forces, and he was also the first person in this world who had ever been able to exchange blows with Kiana.
For an ordinary person, being judged a little worse than Lewis was praise enough to brag about for the rest of one's life.
Su Yu arched a brow, the smile at his lips deepening.
"And then? Surely our Little Martial Ancestor isn't lacking confidence already?"
Kiana turned to look at him.
A bright, confident grin bloomed on that exquisitely pretty face, revealing a small, cute fang.
"Easy."
Just two syllables.
Light as air.
But arrogantly overbearing.
To Ma Feima, standing opposite them, that scene was practically naked humiliation.
Two little brats who did not know the heights of heaven or the depths of earth were actually flirting and chatting like no one else existed, right here in Taixu's practice hall, right in front of him, Ma Feima?!
"Enough!"
He roared.
Originally, he had only intended to teach this so-called Little Martial Ancestor a lesson.
Now, he had changed his mind.
Soft persimmons were meant to be squeezed first.
Since that pretty-boy Senior Brother standing beside her was supposedly her fellow disciple, he would start by crushing him.
"Hey! You there!"
Ma Feima pointed straight at Su Yu's nose, every slab of muscle on his face trembling.
"If you're that girl's Senior Brother, then you're some great Taixu expert too, right? What kind of man hides behind a woman? Huh?"
He sneered and stepped forward, the fierce pressure rolling straight toward Su Yu.
"You dare come up and have a match with me? Or are you nothing but some useless piece of trash, good only for talking? Or maybe…" He grinned viciously. "Maybe your whole branch of the sect is just a pack of spineless weaklings living off women?"
Trash.
Spineless weakling.
The moment those two insults landed, the entire hall turned deathly quiet.
Fu Hua's face went pale at once. She was just about to shout for him to stop—
But she was already too late.
Kiana, who moments ago had still been relaxed, even prepared to leave this Sixth Disciple some face, lost her smile entirely.
Her expression darkened.
She could tolerate people questioning her.
Over those months of wandering, she had been hunted, misunderstood, treated like a monster.
She had endured it all.
Because she believed she was guilty.
Because she believed she did not deserve respect.
But Su Yu was different.
Su Yu was her anchor.
Her salvation.
The one person in this strange world who had given her a home.
He was perfect.
He was the best.
No one was allowed to insult him.
"Haa…"
Kiana exhaled softly.
Then she slowly turned and looked straight at Ma Feima.
Her eyes—clear just moments earlier—were now so cold they could freeze marrow.
"Su Yu."
She did not turn around. She only called his name softly.
"Yeah?" Su Yu seemed to sense the shift in his cat's mood and let the teasing fade from his expression.
"Tonight, I want the fried chicken extra spicy. Double spicy."
Kiana's voice was quiet, yet it carried clearly through the entire hall.
Then, in the next instant—
She lifted her head, gaze sharp as a blade, and pointed it straight at Ma Feima.
"Hey, big guy."
"Three punches."
She raised three fingers. Her tone was icy, and her arrogance admitted no doubt.
"If I can't send you flying in three punches, call it a failed order."
....
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