Narrating: The courtyard of White Crane Martial School was a frozen expanse of stone and wood, filled with the echo of fists striking dummies, the scrape of boots across ice, and the low growl of instructors watching every movement.
Narrating: Today's practical training allowed students to choose their opponents. Baek Hwang hesitated, weighing his options. He wanted someone who would test him, but not someone so far above him that he would simply be crushed.
Baek Hwang: (thinking) Not Dohwa. Not yet. He's… too skilled.
Narrating: His eyes settled on a boy older than him, tall and broad-shouldered, face marked with a long scar. His was about Third Rate — Du Meng. A student many envied for his brute strength, though few matched his skill with finesse.
Du Meng: (grinning) You're new. Nine years old and thinking you can pick me? I'll show you the difference between us.
Baek Hwang: (thinking) I need to see the extent of my abilities.
Narrating: They bowed and squared off. Baek's movements were precise but cautious, Du Meng's were heavy and confident. The first exchange was brutal — Baek ducked a punch, countered with a kick, only to be thrown off balance by Du Meng's superior reach.
Narrating: Strike after strike, Baek Hwang faltered. Each hit he landed felt like it barely grazed Du Meng, each strike he received sent a jolt through his body. He tried to rely on technique, but experience outweighed skill.
Baek Hwang: (thinking, desperate) I'm going to lose at this rate I have to come up with something.
Narrating: Frustration burned through him, sharp and hot. The courtyard seemed to shrink, the air thickened, and every movement Du Meng made appeared slower, heavier — as if Baek's perception of time had changed.
Narrating: Then it happened.
Narrating: Baek Hwang's fists moved on their own, guided by a power he had never known. Every strike landed perfectly. Every block absorbed with ease. His body flowed like water, bending and twisting with instinctive precision. He didn't think. He didn't plan. He just… acted.
Du Meng: (staggering back, eyes wide) What…?
Narrating: The crowd of students went silent. The instructors froze. Baek Hwang's strikes could've shattered practice dummies with that amount of force that should have been impossible for someone his size.
Baek Hwang: (thinking, shocked) What is... happening to me?
Narrating: A heat ran through his limbs, a pulse in his chest like the drum of the world itself. His body had awakened — an impossible gift, one born only once in a generation — correcting every flaw, amplifying every instinct. The Heavenly Martial Body, they called it, though few ever lived to see it. For those without it… no amount of training, no amount of skill, could hope to stand against someone graced by it. Every strike he made carried that inevitability, and in the eyes of his opponent, despair flickered like a candle in a storm.
Narrating: Du Meng fell to his knees, unhurt but overwhelmed, staring at Baek as if seeing a ghost.
Du Meng: (whispering) Impossible…
Narrating: Baek Hwang stood over him, breathing evenly, body thrumming with a strength and awareness far beyond his nine years. He looked around the courtyard. Shocked faces, wide eyes, whispers of awe.
Baek Hwang: (thinking) So this… this is power. Something I was blessed with...I feel like I'm superior to this kid.
Narrating: That night, in the dormitory, Baek Hwang sat quietly, hands folded. Dohwa slept across the room, unaware. Baek's mind replayed every movement, every strike, every sensation.
Baek Hwang: (thinking) If power is the only thing that bends the Jianghu I will use it to pursue my path.
Narrating: Outside, the wind howled through the mountains. Inside, a boy who had once been small and quiet was beginning to understand that the rules of the world were not made for him — they were made to be rewritten.