At the gates of Skydome University, Fu Hua yawned.
She had worked the graveyard shift the night before, and that morning Su Yu's bizarre request to acknowledge a master-disciple relationship had thrown her for another loop. Even after going back to sleep, she had only managed to get three hours in.
Her head still felt heavy, and behind those red-framed glasses, faint shadows lingered beneath her eyes.
And yet the excitement refused to fade.
It was like a lost traveler had finally found a goal worthy of dedicating a lifetime to.
Kiana.
That white-haired girl might truly be able to accomplish the dream several generations of Cixin Martial Arts Hall had failed to realize.
But then—
Fu Hua narrowed her eyes, and her feet slowed on the pedals without her noticing.
A Ferrari was parked outside the school gates.
Its blazing red body gleamed beneath the early summer sun, like a mass of living fire, standing in sharp contrast to the dusty student bicycles around it.
And the woman leaning against the door had practically written the word ostentatious into every strand of her hair.
Her long crimson hair spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall. Sunlight ran across it as though it might ignite at any moment.
She wore a perfectly tailored black blazer dress, and the red-soled heels on her feet clicked crisply against the pavement, like a declaration of territory.
It was Su Mei.
Nominally Fu Hua's second disciple. In reality, five full years older than her.
So she really did come.
Fu Hua sighed inwardly and brought the bicycle to a complete stop.
She could have pretended not to see her and circled around to enter through the side gate.
The problem was that Su Mei's eyes were sharper than an eagle's, and the way she had parked her sports car gave her a clear view of every possible route between the main gate and the side gate.
There was no escaping. Better to brace herself and face it head-on.
"Master—!"
As expected, the moment Fu Hua turned her handlebars toward the main entrance, that familiar voice rang out.
Su Mei straightened from the car door, wearing a flawless smile.
But the amount of information buried beneath that smile was enough to make any top-tier client start sweating.
"I knew you'd come through the front gate."
Su Mei stopped in front of Fu Hua, arms folded across her chest, looking down at her from above while Fu Hua still sat on the bicycle.
"You really are hard to find, Master. You didn't reply to my messages this morning, you didn't answer my calls, and the convenience store already closed its shift. Were you trying to worry your poor disciple to death?"
Fu Hua said nothing.
She knew that the moment she responded, she would be surrendering control of the conversation.
And once Su Mei got control, she could turn black into white and the dead into the living.
This second disciple of hers could stir storms through the business world. The online celebrities she had signed had fanbases totaling over a hundred million. She was recognized in the industry as someone who created gods.
But precisely because of that, she had one maddening flaw—
Once she set her sights on something, she would never let it go, especially when she believed she was "absolutely right."
"Master, listen to me."
Seeing that Fu Hua refused to speak, Su Mei simply didn't wait for a response and launched into her prepared assault.
"You're a genuine martial prodigy. You have the real thing. But look at all those so-called masters of traditional martial arts these days—aren't they all just half-baked frauds?"
"One by one, they go onto short-video platforms performing tricks like striking across a distance or pushing people with 'qi,' fooling viewers senseless and making money hand over fist."
"You're a hundred times better than them. Why should you be working at a convenience store?"
By the end of that sentence, her voice carried a trace of real heartache.
She reached out and tapped the faded hoodie Fu Hua was wearing.
"Just look at what you're wearing. That's last year's, isn't it? Bought on sale? You're a true master, and you're dressed like this? Does that make any sense?"
Fu Hua lowered her head and glanced at her clothes. She saw nothing wrong with them.
In truth, this was far from the only clothing she owned.
Elysia and Eden had both given her many outfits.
But Fu Hua had never gotten used to wearing them. Since they were gifts from friends, she had been reluctant to wear them out.
The spirit of a martial artist had already seeped into her bones. In Su Mei's words, she was like the final gravekeeper of a vanished martial tradition—the truest kind of "last master."
"This is comfortable," Fu Hua replied briefly. "And it washes well."
Su Mei nearly choked on the answer.
"I know exactly what you're going to say," she sighed. "You're going to tell me martial arts are for self-cultivation, not for show. You're going to say the dignity of the Taixu lineage can't be sold for traffic. You're going to say you despise those frauds who rely on false advertising, right?"
There were other things Su Mei did not say aloud.
Fu Hua's roommates were all a little "unusual," but every one of them was a giant in her own field.
The streamer Pink Elf Missy—one of the biggest stars in live broadcasting.
And as for her landlord Eden, that went without saying. An absolute world-class superstar. Su Mei dreamed of working with her someday.
As everyone knew, there were only two kinds of people in this world:
Eden's fans, and Eden's deeply unhinged fans.
If Fu Hua were willing to speak up—
even just to ask for a little publicity—
the fate of Cixin Martial Arts Hall would have been entirely different.
But she had never done it.
Even though Eden and Elysia had both wanted to help this hardworking girl putting herself through school.
Fu Hua had still declined their kindness. She was already deeply grateful that Eden let her stay there for such cheap rent. In a city where land was worth gold, that alone was enormous help.
Maybe other people would call her stubborn. Maybe they'd say she was inflexible, that all she had to do was open her mouth and money and status would come easily.
But this was Fu Hua.
This was simply who she was.
A little old-fashioned, in a way even her own disciples sometimes found impossible to understand.
And it was precisely because of that—because of this young master who already seemed ancient, who held fast to her own bottom line no matter what—that Su Mei respected her so deeply while also feeling utterly helpless before her.
Fu Hua looked at Su Mei in silence for two seconds.
"That was quite accurate."
"Well, obviously. I've been with you for years," Su Mei said with another sigh. "But the point is, who even cares about those principles anymore? The martial hall can't recruit students. Your disciples are all off doing their own things. Your father is lying in a sanatorium, and every month the money you send there comes from working night shifts—"
"Mei-jie." Fu Hua's voice turned cold. "I'll deal with those things myself."
It was like being doused with cold water. The aggressive force behind Su Mei's words instantly weakened.
"Fine. I won't bring that up."
She drew a deep breath and adjusted her angle of attack.
"But you can't deny that the Taixu lineage is basically just an empty shell now. What you practice is powerful, yes—but fragments are still fragments."
Su Mei knew that wasn't the only reason Fu Hua refused to help promote the school.
Part of it came from something else.
Fu Hua had already studied the remnant manuals thoroughly when she was still very young. But after all these years, she had never been able to go any further.
Most likely, she herself had already seen the limits of those incomplete texts and felt that, as the "last master," she simply could not pass down the true ultimate arts of Taixu.
"You said it yourself. The real sword intent and the real mental methods have long since been broken off."
Su Mei's mind raced, trying to use her silver tongue to break through at last.
"Instead of dragging things out like this, it would be better to establish your name first. Once you have attention, you'll have resources, and once you have resources, then—"
"I found it."
Su Mei's speech cut off abruptly.
She stared blankly at Fu Hua.
For the first time, the corners of her normally expressionless master's lips had actually lifted ever so slightly.
It was not pride. It was not showing off.
It was... relief.
"What did you find?" Su Mei asked reflexively.
"The true successor of the Taixu Sword School," Fu Hua said. "The complete mental method. The complete sword intent. Not fragments. The true orthodox line. One of my little martial aunts."
Su Mei froze on the spot.
For a moment, she didn't even know how to respond.
She stared at Fu Hua's face for a full five seconds, trying to find the slightest trace of a joke on that usual poker face.
"Master, if you don't want to do livestreaming, just say so. You really don't have to invent something like—"
Fu Hua's phone rang.
She took it out and glanced at it. It was a message from Su Yu, with a video attached.
Perfect timing.
"See for yourself." Fu Hua held out the phone. "It was recorded this morning."
Su Mei took it, still internally complaining that her master's excuse was far too perfunctory. But her fingers were already moving by habit, tapping the video open.
The recording began in an ordinary living room. In the corner stood a worn-looking punching bag that had clearly seen better days.
Then a white-haired girl stepped into frame.
She wore an oversized sweatshirt and shorts, looking a little lazy, as if she had only just woken up and still hadn't fully come online.
"Hey, hey, hold back a little. Don't punch the thing to pieces."
A man's voice came from off-camera.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. You've already said that like a million times. I'll only use thirty percent—no, twenty, okay?"
That's it?
Su Mei frowned.
Twenty percent? What kind of absurd bragging was that?
In the video, the white-haired girl settled into place before the sandbag, rolled her wrist once, and then—
She moved.
In that instant, Su Mei's eyes flew wide open.
There was no warning. No windup. The girl's fist struck the bag like a bolt of lightning.
The human-sized sandbag swung violently from the impact, releasing a heavy, muffled thud.
But that wasn't the end.
Her figure flashed. Like flowing water, she circled to the bag's flank and drove a side kick cleanly into its midsection.
Knee strike.
Elbow strike.
And then, finally, a beautiful spinning back kick.
Each movement was so fast it dazzled the eye, yet so precise it might have been measured with a ruler.
There was not a single wasted motion between one strike and the next.
No flourish.
No theatrical embellishment.
Only the purest, sharpest—
killing intent.
Yes. Killing intent.
Su Mei had seen too many so-called "martial arts videos." The people in them were either performing routines or showing off cool moves. However flashy the techniques looked, they always carried the unmistakable taste of performance.
But this white-haired girl was different.
Every move she made looked like it had been meant for a real enemy.
That sharpness. That decisiveness. That feeling that in the very next second she could kill someone without hesitation—
This was not performance.
This was the genuine craft of killing.
"This..." Su Mei's throat had gone dry. "Who is that?"
Fu Hua took the phone back. Her expression remained calm, but there was now a certainty in her eyes that had not been there before.
"The true successor of the Taixu Sword School."
Su Mei stood there in a daze.
Her mouth opened, then closed again. Her mind simply could not keep up anymore.
Wasn't the true transmission of the Taixu Sword School supposed to be lost long ago?
Ever since childhood, the old hall master had told her that the core mental methods had already been severed. All that Cixin Martial Arts Hall could still teach were scraps—surface-level techniques and damaged sword manuals.
But that video just now—
The white-haired girl's movements clearly carried a spirit Su Mei had never seen before.
That degree of fluidity.
That method of power transmission.
That complete, whole-body harmony.
Su Mei's breathing began to quicken.
She was a businesswoman, yes.
But before that, she was the second disciple of Cixin Martial Arts Hall.
She had studied boxing under Fu Hua for many years. Her talent was nowhere near Cheng Lixue's, but among the disciples she was still considered one of the better ones.
And unlike the others, her eye for talent was exceptional.
That white-haired girl's skill was above Fu Hua's.
No—
not just Fu Hua's.
All those so-called "martial arts titans" and "famous masters" put together still could not compare to that girl.
"Master..." Su Mei's voice had begun to tremble. "Could she really be... the little martial aunt you mentioned?"
Fu Hua nodded.
Such a simple motion.
Yet it hit Su Mei like a hammer straight to the chest.
A little martial aunt... really existed?
The direct orthodox line of the Taixu Sword School... really hadn't been broken?
Light began to gather in Su Mei's eyes, but it was completely different from the sharp, calculating gleam she wore when negotiating business.
This was something much closer to fervor.
Something that came from the depths of her heart.
As a businesswoman, she saw a staggering opportunity.
But as a disciple of Cixin Martial Arts Hall, she saw something else.
Hope.
"Master."
Su Mei took a slow breath, trying to steady her voice, though the fire in her eyes could not be hidden.
"This little martial aunt—no, this little martial grandmaster... when can I meet her?"
....
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