Since my [Martial Arts] had hit a hard ceiling and my technological empire was firmly on hold, I had to pivot.
At this time, I couldn’t sharpen my body or my wallet.
So, I thought of various ideas, writing down ways I could improve my skills.
Then I remembered the military personnel stationed in the Western District.
There had to be some retired soldiers living there who could advise me on how to maneuver around monsters.
One evening, while eating dinner with my family, I turned toward my father and asked, “Dad, I want to learn martial arts.”
Zhang Min turned toward me and said, “Okay, but where do you plan to learn that?
There are no martial arts schools in Bo City.”
“I thought about it and decided that since there are a lot of retired military officers in the Western District, maybe you could introduce me to one of them,” I replied.
“Okay, I will think about it,” my dad replied.
I knew him well enough to know that “I will think about it” meant he was already planning to ask around.
So, I waited.
And waited some more.
This wait lasted one month.
One month later, on a Sunday morning…
“Wake up, we are going out,” my dad called out.
I was meditating at the time, so I opened my eyes immediately and asked, “Where?”
“You’ll find out once we are there.
Go clean yourself up,” Zhang Min said.
After freshening up, I got into the car.
My father drove toward the Western District.
From that alone, I knew he was taking me to a military instructor, but I kept my mouth shut so I wouldn’t talk too much.
When he stopped the car in front of a small house with a large backyard, I stepped out with him and spotted an old man sitting on the porch.
I couldn’t instantly guess his exact age just by looking at his appearance like some overpowered novel protagonist, but I could see his head was full of stark white hair.
He looked frail, but the way his sharp eyes tracked me as I walked up the driveway told a completely different story.
It was the gaze of a predator evaluating a very small, very weak prey.
“Lao Chen,” my dad greeted him with a respectful nod.
“This is my son, Xiaohou.
The one I told you about.”
Instructor Chen took a slow sip from a chipped porcelain teacup.
“Is he really eight?
From his posture, he looks like someone who has trained in martial arts for years.”
“I practiced by myself from watching TV,” I interjected, stepping forward and bowing a perfect ninety degrees.
“I want to be a hunter, sir.
So can you please teach me?”
“I am an Advanced Mage in Shadow Element, proficient in close combat and stealth,” Lao Chen said flatly.
“I can’t teach you how to be a hunter to fight monsters.
But I can teach you how to combat another person, if that person is human.”
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“No need to call me Master.
I will be staying in this city for seven months due to an investigation.
After that, I will leave.
In these seven months, how much you learn is entirely up to you,” Lao Chen said.
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
Stopping the conversation abruptly, Lao Chen pointed a finger at the yard.
“Start running around this place fifty times.”
Seeing he was dead serious, I started to run.
POV: Zhang Min
Zhang Min leaned against the hood of his car, watching his eight-year-old son jog around the massive backyard.
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with a quiet sigh of relief.
Finding a genuine martial arts teacher in a society entirely obsessed with magical awakening had been like looking for a needle in a haystack.
For the first two weeks after Xiaohou had asked, Min had visited every so-called “dojo” in Bo City.
They were all frauds just glorified gymnasts teaching flashy, useless acrobatics to rich kids.
He knew his son.
Xiaohou was too smart, too observant.
He would have seen through a fake instructor in five seconds.
If his son wanted to learn how to fight, he needed to learn from someone who had actually survived outside the safe zones.
Then, he remembered Lao Chen, an Advanced Mage of the Shadow Element who was coming to Bo City in a few days.
Chen worked for the Magic Court and the Enforcement Union, the organizations responsible for managing rogue magicians, hunting dangerous magical creatures, and handling Black Vatican threats.
Min had specifically asked his boss to assign him as Chen’s local handler, a request that was easily approved since Min was always exceptionally good at his job.
When he first met Lao Chen to hand over the property keys, Min had instantly felt a cold, suffocating pressure.
Min wasn’t a mage, but any man who had lived near the edge of the wilderness knew what a real killer looked like.
Chen was dangerous.
His job was to help the mage with groceries, manage the property, and keep his presence completely hidden from the local Mu family.
After two weeks of working for him, Min finally told him about Zhang Xiaohou.
He respectfully asked if the Advanced Mage would be interested in teaching the boy some basics.
After some thought, Lao Chen had nodded, likely just to avoid discouraging his reliable attendant.
Taking a drag from his cigarette, Min watched Xiaohou complete his tenth lap.
The boy hadn’t complained.
He hadn’t slowed down.
Min didn’t fully understand his son.
Xiaohou had always been too quiet, too mature, and possessed an intense, calculating look in his eyes that no eight-year-old should have.
But Min loved him fiercely.
If his genius son felt the need to learn how to survive brutal combat, Min was going to make sure he had the absolute best teacher possible.
POV: Lao Chen
Lao Chen took a slow sip of his tea, his sharp eyes narrowing as the civilian car pulled up to his temporary safe house.
He was an Advanced Mage of the Shadow Element, stationed in this backwater city on a covert, seven-month investigation into anomalous underground activities.
He had significantly bigger things to worry about than babysitting his civilian contact’s son.
But the moment the boy stepped out of the car, Chen’s seasoned combat instincts immediately flared.
‘This kid is eight years old?’ he thought, his gaze sweeping over the boy from head to toe.
The child didn’t fidget like a normal kid.
His breathing was rhythmically controlled a sign of deep, instinctual meditation.
His footsteps were light, and his center of gravity was perfectly balanced.
This wasn’t the clumsy, uncoordinated waddle of a child; it was the calculated, rooted stance of someone who had spent years drilling martial forms.
When the kid boldly claimed he had learned it all from “watching TV,” Chen almost snorted.
Complete bullshit, he thought.
A kid doesn’t learn how to ground his hips and suppress his presence like that from a cartoon.
Yet, looking at the boy’s unwavering, dead-serious expression, Chen felt a strange, inexplicable sense of goodwill wash over him.
The kid didn’t have the obnoxious arrogance of the magical clan heirs Chen usually dealt with, nor did he have the fearful trembling of a normal civilian.
He just looked remarkably…
reliable.
Still, Chen didn’t have time for a disciple.
He had a mission.
He needed to break the kid’s spirit quickly so he could get back to his investigation.
“Start running around this place fifty times,” Chen ordered, keeping his face entirely devoid of emotion.
It was a ridiculous demand.
Fifty laps around this massive property would break a grown civilian, let alone an eight-year-old child.
Chen fully expected the boy to whine, cry, and beg his father to take him home within the first five laps.
Instead, without a single word of complaint, the boy simply nodded, turned on his heel, and started jogging at a perfectly paced, energy-conserving rhythm.
Chen lowered his teacup, a flicker of genuine surprise breaking through his hardened facade.
He watched the boy complete the first lap, his breathing still perfectly steady.
‘Well I’ll be damned,’ the Advanced Shadow Mage thought, a smirk tugging at the corner of his scarred lips.
‘Let’s see how much grit you actually have, kid.’
To be continued…