After returning home, Jason Luo told his father about the matter since all financial decisions were handled by him.
Henry Luo listened carefully, then clicked his tongue. "This... Alright! Jay, you're doing a good thing, and your old man can't say you're wrong. But remember, when things like this come up again, you need to know your limits. We're not like the rich elite—every dollar you earn is paid for with your blood and sweat."
He changed the subject. "Speaking of money, look at Tony lately. He must have hit it big. New car, trips abroad, designer brands all over him, and he even bought Grace a bunch of gifts."
"Really? That guy? Could he have blown up online or something? He never mentioned anything to me. I'll have to ask him."
"Don't bother—he's not around! He joined a tour group to Bali and wanted to take Grace with him. But she's studying for exams, so she turned him down. He went alone instead. Says he invested in some high-tech project that's making serious profit..."
Jason Luo blinked, then laughed. "Come on. He didn't have that kind of money to invest when he started. It's gotta be from his videos. But can that kind of thing really pay that much?"
Henry Luo shook his head. "Forget what others are doing. I think we should put our money to work too. If it just sits there, it's losing value. Maybe we should buy some U.S. Treasury bonds or gold."
Jason Luo shrugged. "You're the head of the house, Dad. You decide. If you want, we could ask Mr. Rod to recommend a good investment firm."
After receiving the money from his father, Jason promptly handed it to Dr. Miao. Overjoyed, Dr. Miao suggested they visit Mr. Shen together, but Jason refused. "Uncle Miao, I'm not going. I donated the money just for peace of mind—nothing else. Just tell him it came from a group of people."
Dr. Miao frowned, glancing at the cash in his hand. "But Shen will definitely want to thank everyone personally. How do we hide that?"
"Then just tell him it was from you."
"What? That's not right."
"Why not? Anyway, I've got something to take care of. I'm heading out!" Jason turned and dashed off before Dr. Miao could stop him.
...
Jason did, in fact, have something to do. He wanted to visit Coach Datchai to tell him about Putian's situation and see if he could help Master Liu find a way out. He also wanted to learn more about Burmese boxing.
Without a car, it took several bus transfers before he finally reached the kickboxing gym—taking a taxi would've cost far more.
Coach Datchai clearly had been following Jason's career. As soon as they met, he grinned. "Haha! Jason, you finally made it! Three rounds to victory and an Intercontinental title—congratulations!"
Jason smiled modestly. "It's just the start. Nothing much. I went to Putian and found Master Liu Zhiqing's descendants, so I came to talk about it with you."
"Really? Excellent! Come inside, tell me everything in detail."
Jason recounted the entire story. After listening, Datchai's expression grew thoughtful. "The realm of effortless control, huh? Impressive! Chinese martial arts really do reach a deeper level. We focus only on destructive power, never on restraint. Brilliant!"
His eyes brightened as he suddenly stood and began shadow-fighting. His fists and legs cut through the air, swift and sharp!
"Excellent! If you can control and withdraw your strength at will, your transitions become smoother and more natural. Remarkable!"
Jason felt a little deflated. So that's what "effortless control" meant? He'd thought it was about holding back so you wouldn't hurt your opponent too badly...
After a few more movements, Datchai turned with a smile. "So, you've started learning Southern Fist from Master Liu?"
Jason shook his head. "Not really. Time was too short. Master Liu only taught me some basic stance work and Penetrating Force training. He said that unless I stayed with him for three years and proved my character, he wouldn't teach the true Southern Fist."
Datchai nodded approvingly. "Now that's a real martial artist. Jason, great strength must rest in the hands of the virtuous—otherwise, it brings only disaster. When I was young and learning ancient Muay Thai, my master taught the same: 'Cultivate virtue before mastering technique.' Seems that principle is universal."
Jason leaned forward. "Coach Datchai, what kind of style is Burmese boxing? Why do we hear so little about it?"
At the mention of Burmese boxing, Datchai's face darkened slightly. "Why do you ask? Have you come across it?"
"Oh, no. I just wanted to understand it better."
Datchai relaxed a bit. "Good. Burma and Thailand are neighbors, so Burmese boxing shares about eighty percent of its techniques with ancient Muay Thai. The difference is that Burmese boxing also uses the head as a weapon—headbutts are an integral part of their attacks. You have to admit, Burmese boxing is more vicious than ancient Muay Thai. It was born from warfare, not sport. That's why you rarely see it in competition—it's a killing art, not a sport."
"Burmese boxing is about total offense—once you attack, you never stop. Every strike targets a vital point. It's a do-or-die style: either your opponent falls or you do. There's no middle ground. That's why it's terrifying. Never provoke a practitioner unless you have no choice."
Jason's heart sank. The image of Ishikawa Hidehisa's polite smile flashed through his mind. Could someone like that really have learned Burmese boxing?
Even Coach Datchai, a master of ancient Muay Thai, admitted it was more brutal and ruthless. Burmese boxing clearly wasn't something to take lightly.
"Do you happen to know if Burmese boxing has any weaknesses?"
"Well... I don't know much myself. Not many people practice it. But according to some analyses, because headbutts are used so frequently, it's strongest in upper-body attacks but slightly weaker around the midsection. Like Muay Thai, it's great at low kicks. But like all stand-up fighting styles, balance is everything. As far as I know, only Jiu-Jitsu and Southern Fist are exceptions to that rule."
They talked for quite a while longer before Jason shifted the topic. "Coach Datchai, Master Liu's living situation is rough. He's nearly isolated from society and doesn't even have a companion. It's really sad to see. Is there any way you could help him?"
Datchai sighed deeply. "I've seen it before. Martial arts can consume people, but it's hard to survive on it alone. In the end, we all have to compromise with life. With his skill, he'd easily qualify to be an instructor here at my gym. I just worry he wouldn't want to come. After all, this is America—the language and culture are different, and it's not easy to adjust."
"Thailand's the same way. You could talk to him when you get the chance. If he's willing, he can choose for himself. Honestly, the best option is for him to open his own gym. Southern Fist has a big reputation—the potential is limitless."
Jason knew Datchai was right. Master Liu wouldn't even take a local coaching job, so expecting him to move abroad was unrealistic. He'd have to find his own path where he was.
Opening a gym sounded great, but Master Liu had no money. The last time Jason gave him ten thousand yuan, he refused it outright. How could he help someone like that?
Then a thought struck him—what if he invested in opening a gym, and Master Liu became its head instructor? It might just work... though the logistics were complex and distance made it difficult. For now, it would remain just an idea.