"Thanks for your hard work."
Fu Hua nodded to the coworker coming in for the next shift, hung her apron on the hook by the shelves, and lifted a hand to rub the back of her neck.
Her lower back ached a little after standing for eight hours straight.
Flexing her wrist as she headed for the break room, she silently calculated how much of this month's paycheck would go toward rent, and how much might be left over to buy new training equipment for the dojo.
It was hard to imagine that this young woman in a blue convenience store uniform, with dust from the shelves still clinging to her back, was under another identity the youngest grandmaster of the Taixu Sword Sect in a hundred years, and the de facto head of Cunshin Martial Arts Hall.
Even more absurd, she had seven disciples under her name.
All of them were older than she was.
No one would believe it if she said it out loud.
Sometimes even Fu Hua herself found it ridiculous. But work still had to be done. The dojo did not make money, and she could hardly let a whole pack of senior brothers and sisters go hungry while training.
The break room was small, containing only a folding chair and an iron rack hung with employee coats.
Fu Hua pulled her phone from her pocket. The screen lit up.
Twenty-three unread messages.
She glanced at the sender's avatar, and her brows immediately drew together.
Su Mei.
Again.
"Master! Have you thought it over? That streaming platform already approved the partnership proposal!"
"Master, you don't even need to appear in person! Just show your face and perform one set of forms. You'll go viral instantly!"
"Or we can start with short videos first? I've already registered the tag 'Most Beautiful Wuxia Heroine'!"
Fu Hua stared at the screen for three seconds. Her finger hovered over the reply button, but in the end, she did not press it.
She set the phone on the table, leaned back in the chair, and let out a long sigh.
Su Mei was her second disciple, twenty-six this year, a marketing director at some big internet company, supposedly making seven figures annually.
Her mind was frighteningly quick. In ancient times, she would have been a commercial prodigy, the type who could make money doing anything.
But she had one problem.
She was always trying to turn Fu Hua into a celebrity.
"Martial arts plus traditional aesthetics plus beauty equals traffic goldmine," or, "Master, your looks beat any celebrity's," — Fu Hua had heard variations of those lines often enough over the last two years to grow calluses in her ears.
"Martial arts are for self-cultivation, not for showmanship. Do not bring this up again."
Sent.
Then she scrolled the chat window downward, unwilling to see the inevitable flood of "Master, you're too conservative" and other lengthy lectures that would surely follow.
Honestly, Su Mei was not entirely wrong.
Cunsin Martial Arts Hall had been struggling for years. Who even studied traditional martial arts nowadays?
The people who came to sign up were either middle-aged adults looking to lose weight or artsy youths who had watched The Grandmaster and thought Wing Chun looked cool. Among ten applicants, you would be lucky to find even one genuinely willing to settle down and learn properly.
And then there were the outrageous requests for "crash courses" or "learn a whole form in three days."
Still… so what?
Fu Hua answered herself silently.
Practicing the sword and the fist were things passed down from her ancestors, carrying the blood and sweat of the Taixu Sect across centuries. How could they be turned into livestream tricks for clicks?
Her screen lit up again.
Carol.
Fu Hua's expression softened into a sigh of helplessness.
Carol was a friend she had met at school, and also the daughter of the famous SWAT captain Lewis.
Half a year ago, Fu Hua had been working a shift at another fast-food restaurant when an A-rank fugitive, cornered and desperate, tried to take hostages.
The place had been in complete chaos. In that critical instant, just as the fugitive raised his knife to harm someone, Fu Hua, no longer able to tolerate it, vaulted the counter and used a textbook Cun Jin: Heaven Splitter, blasting the man and his blade three meters away.
Carol had happened to pass by and seen everything.
That girl, who dreamed of becoming a police legend like her mother, had been instantly stunned by Fu Hua's clean, decisive skill.
And once she learned that Fu Hua was also her senior schoolmate, she switched into full-time fangirl mode.
Not only had she pestered Fu Hua for sparring matches, she had also fervently encouraged her to register as a vigilante in Sky Dome City.
"Senior Hua! This is a perfect deal — you can fight evil and earn奖金! With your skills, it'd be such a waste not to register!"
The word "bonus" had, admittedly, struck Fu Hua's weak spot.
And so, under Carol's relentless enthusiasm, Fu Hua became a registered vigilante with the Sky Dome City Police Department.
As for the codename field, under the coaxing of Miss Dan Zhu — that incorrigible lover of fanfic who worked as an assistant in Dr. Mobius's lab — Fu Hua had reluctantly written down:
Red Kite.
[Carol: Hua! Emergency! ]
[Carol: My mom told me to forward this to you — internal footage. It's your junior vigilante! ]
[Carol: Wow, she looks young, but her kung fu is incredible! Hua, do you think you could beat her? ]
Beneath the messages was a video link, complete with Lewis's police watermark.
Fu Hua sighed.
She already had a bad feeling about this.
She tapped the video.
The footage seemed to be from a training hall surveillance camera. The image quality was not exceptional, but it was clear enough to make out the figure standing in the center of the room, facing Lewis.
The frame shook.
Then the girl moved.
Fu Hua's finger froze against the screen.
She dragged the timeline back five seconds and watched again.
That footwork.
That angle of turning to redirect force.
That rhythm of shifting weight and charging a counterattack in an instant.
This was not ordinary combat technique.
Fu Hua dragged the timeline back another ten seconds, this time focusing on the girl's steps.
The placement of her feet, the angle of her toes, the curve of her knees as she bent—
Every detail magnified, split apart, and reassembled in her mind.
On the surface, the white-haired girl's style seemed to be a mishmash of many systems. There were traces of Wing Chun's short-bridge explosive force, hints of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu in the grappling transitions, even flashes of Muay Thai's knees and elbows.
But none of that was the point.
The point was how she used force.
Call it internal power if you wanted to be mystical. Call it coordinated core muscle engagement with controlled breathing if you wanted to be scientific.
The most essential thing passed down through generations of the Taixu Sword Sect was precisely this concept of force.
Ordinary people who studied martial arts could be called beginners once they had memorized the forms.
If they could use clever force, that was minor accomplishment.
If they could release and retract force at will, then they had truly entered the hall.
And the girl in the video—
Fu Hua stared at the screen, her fingers unconsciously tightening on the chair arm.
Her force pathways are even clearer than mine.
The instant the thought appeared, even Fu Hua herself was startled.
She had started training at age five. By twelve, her father had already declared her a "once-in-a-century genius." At fifteen, she inherited the grandmaster's position, accepted disciples on her father's behalf, and took seven students under her wing, each older than herself.
She had never considered herself arrogant.
But Fu Hua knew full well that the glorious legacy recorded in that yellowed genealogical text had been eroded by centuries of time until only fragments remained.
By the time it reached her father's generation, what remained were mostly some health-preserving external techniques and a few incomplete boxing frames that only vaguely resembled the real thing.
They were still enough to teach people to strengthen their bodies, yes, but almost none of the true art remained.
By the time the Taixu Sword Sect reached her generation, it was almost a name without substance.
Everything she had achieved up to now came from piecing together broken ancient fragments by herself, and relying on talent and relentless practice.
She had always believed she was the sect's final ember.
But now, this girl in the video—
Suddenly, Fu Hua remembered something. She dragged the video back to the beginning and examined the white-haired girl's face carefully.
Heterochromatic eyes.
White hair.
Fu Hua's pupils shrank slightly.
Her memory flashed back to that rainy night half a month ago.
That girl beside Su Yu in the convenience store — battered-looking, wary-eyed.
How had Su Yu introduced her again?
He had never really said, only told Fu Hua to trust him.
Later, he had sent an extra message calling her a "martial artist who ran away from home."
At the time, Fu Hua had assumed it was a casual excuse Su Yu had made up to cover something.
After all, the girl had looked more like a frightened little animal than any kind of master.
But the moment Carol's excited voice came through the audio, announcing that the girl had claimed to be a "Taixu Sect disciple"—
Fu Hua stared at the white-haired girl on the screen, looking as if she had just witnessed Mars colliding with Earth.
How could that be?
The Taixu Sword Sect had splintered and collapsed centuries ago. In this world, aside from her own family's Cunshin Martial Arts Hall still hanging onto a half-dead signboard, where else could there possibly be a Taixu Sect?
Was she a fraud? Someone borrowing the name to deceive people?
No… no, that was not it.
Fu Hua shook her head. Reason quickly returned.
As a martial artist, she knew better than anyone that a name could lie, but skill could not.
Those few moves Kiana displayed in the video—
Whether in the way she released force, or the distinctive method of compressing energy into a single explosive point, everything astonishingly matched the obscure, difficult descriptions in her family's ancient records.
Fu Hua remembered what her father used to say.
Back in the day, the Taixu Sword Sect had many branches.
Their family's line was only one of them, and one of the most severely broken lines at that.
Could this Lady Kiana be the inheritor of another branch?
And judging by how pure her martial art was, could she even be from the direct line?
If that were true—
The Taixu Sword Sect cared deeply about seniority.
She herself was a seventeenth-generation disciple; her father had been sixteenth.
If Lady Kiana came from the direct line, then even if she was younger than Fu Hua, her seniority might still outrank hers.
Which meant—
By rank, Fu Hua might have to call that white-haired girl, who looked younger than herself…
Little Martial Aunt?
Fu Hua covered her face.
She suddenly felt as if her entire workday had been for nothing.
By the time she changed out of her uniform and walked out of the break room, she was only thinking of going back to Golden Courtyard for some sleep before her afternoon classes.
Then the convenience store doors slid open with a chirp of "Welcome," and Fu Hua looked up automatically.
It was Su Yu.
She rubbed her eyes.
Was she hallucinating?
At this hour? Su Yu?
Had she only worked one night shift, and the world already changed beyond recognition?
As Su Yu's junior schoolmate and half-friend, she had a profound understanding of this senior's lifestyle.
He was the ultimate lifeform who would lie down before sitting, order takeout before going outside, and never get out of bed before the sun was well overhead.
In her memory, the last time she had seen six in the morning together with Su Yu was when he had stayed up all night to grab a limited-edition figurine.
"Morning, Hua."
Su Yu waved a hand, looking as lazy as ever, but simply appearing at this hour was strange enough to feel wrong.
Something in Fu Hua's heart gave a jolt.
Unusual things always meant hidden reasons.
Could it be… because of the video?
Had that "direct-line Taixu little martial aunt" found out that Fu Hua, this unofficial disciple, had also been working as a vigilante? Or perhaps she thought Fu Hua, this so-called grandmaster, was embarrassing the sect, tarnishing the school's name, and had sent Su Yu specifically to… clean house?
Or at least to deliver some sort of "don't leave after school" warning?
"Su… Su Yu-senpai?" Fu Hua's voice was tighter than usual. "Why are you… here at this hour…?"
"I got hungry, came out to forage," Su Yu said, rubbing his stomach with perfect confidence. "And since I happened to catch you right after your shift, come on. I'll treat you to breakfast. We can talk too."
Talk.
Those two words were instantly translated in Fu Hua's head as: accept organizational questioning.
A wave of nervousness washed over her.
Ten minutes later—
"Old Wang, two big plates of dry-fried rice noodles, extra spicy, and two soy milks!"
Su Yu shouted toward the sweating shop owner, then pulled out a plastic stool and sat down.
This was the most popular roadside stall near the convenience store.
Fu Hua sat across from him, slightly stiff.
Her eyes, usually so steady and calm, now kept flicking uneasily toward Su Yu's face.
Su Yu, meanwhile, had not even noticed her tension.
He was still working out how to start the conversation.
Coming to see Fu Hua had been the result of careful thought last night.
Although the system's absurd physical enhancement had made his body far stronger than an average person's, after watching Kiana and Lewis spar yesterday, he had realized that raw strength alone was meaningless.
Technique.
What he lacked was technique.
And among the people he knew, who was the best fighter and also the easiest to talk to?
Who else but Fu Hua?
The problem was, it was a little embarrassing to ask.
After all, the image he maintained in front of this junior schoolmate was that of a "mysterious senior who knew everything." Running over to say Coach, I want to learn boxing somehow felt a bit awkward.
"So…"
"So…"
They spoke at the same time.
The words collided in the air.
There was one second of silence.
"You first,"
Su Yu quickly said, waving a hand to ease the awkwardness.
Fu Hua pressed her lips together, fingers tightening slightly in her lap.
She took a breath, as if steeling herself.
"Su Yu-senpai… did that little martial aunt send you?"
Su Yu almost sprayed soy milk across the table.
He grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth, staring at Fu Hua in utter bafflement.
"Huh? Who?"
"The one… who lives at your place."
Fu Hua lowered her voice a little, with the respectful caution one reserved for a senior martial figure.
"I saw the video Carol sent. And based on that level of martial attainment, her seniority must be very high."
She paused, then looked at Su Yu with visible unease.
"Did my work as a vigilante… make her think I'm disgracing the sect?"
Now it was Su Yu's turn to freeze.
Wait.
Had the plot taken a wrong turn somewhere?
Looking at Fu Hua's expression — that I have mentally prepared myself to face judgment from the organization expression — Su Yu's brain spun at high speed.
So this girl had gone and mentally written an entire hidden martial sect disciplining its juniors drama by herself?
Was this what people meant by self-brainwashing at its deadliest?
He barely suppressed the urge to laugh and waved both hands.
"Stop, stop, stop. Hold it. What on earth are you imagining? Kiana's still asleep at home. She has no idea I came out."
"Then, senpai, you…"
Fu Hua's look of grim resolve turned into confusion.
"Well…" Su Yu cleared his throat and decided to tell the truth.
Well, part of the truth.
"You know things haven't exactly been peaceful lately. I've got decent physical conditioning—"
As he said that, he quietly clenched a fist.
The system's enhancement really was absurd. He genuinely felt like he could punch a cow to death now.
The problem was that he only knew how to use brute force, nothing else.
"But my whole style is just wild instinct," Su Yu said honestly. "If I run into someone truly skilled, I'm finished."
He looked at Fu Hua earnestly.
"I've seen you fight. Your fundamentals are incredibly solid. So I wanted to ask… could you maybe teach me a trick or two? Just enough for self-defense. Nothing too profound."
Fu Hua blinked.
She had not expected Su Yu to get up this early for that.
"Teach you?" she repeated instinctively, pushing up her glasses. "But… why not ask Miss Kiana to teach you? She's a true Taixu disciple. Her attainment is far beyond mine."
This time, it was Su Yu who stared blankly.
The noisy breakfast stall seemed to fall silent around him.
The clang of the owner's wok, the slurping from the next table, the distant car horns—
all of it became the bizarre backdrop to one singular, ridiculous realization.
"…Wait."
Su Yu blinked at her.
"So there really is a Taixu Sect?"
....
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