K City—a beautiful, bustling metropolis—hides a frantic pace of life behind its glittering façade. Long before dawn, people swarm the streets like a colony of ants.
Everywhere you look, there are heads and shoulders moving in all directions.
Any skill, no matter how trivial, can net its practitioner countless admirers.
A certain NYU PhD once said, "A fast-paced life boosts people's sense of fulfillment and happiness. We derive accomplishment from our busyness."
In truth, if it weren't for the need to make a living, who would voluntarily seek out that kind of "accomplishment"?
Lying flat is the easiest way to boost one's satisfaction and happiness.
Isn't it blissful to sprawl on the sofa like Ge You—be a salted fish?
"Why on earth are so many people even up here today?" A boy who looked at least forty but was actually only fifteen or sixteen stared in despair at the teeming crowd on the mountainside.
He'd finally scored a rare holiday and wanted to escape his heavy coursework for a bit of peace—maybe hike a mountain to clear his mind.
He'd invited a few friends to "conquer" the nearest peak, only to be blocked by countless others with the same idea.
Now he was stuck halfway up: unable to go forward, unable to go back. He might as well have stayed home and stayed in.
"Ku-chong, you seriously don't know?" His friend—another boy with an equally mature appearance—looked at him in disbelief.
"?" Ku-chong blinked, scratched his head, and replied blankly, "Know what?"
The others shot him puzzled looks too. "I thought you knew, or you wouldn't have dragged us out here."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Seriously?"
Ku-chong's mind was a total blank: you all knew, and I'm the only clueless one?
Seeing his genuinely baffled expression, the older-looking friends explained, "Haven't you seen the hot searches lately? The legendary grandmaster of martial arts, Bangu, is officially opening his school today. Anyone who arrives by nightfall can become his formal disciple."
"What? I thought you'd arranged this special outing. You truly didn't know?"
At the words "Bangu" and "accepting disciples," Ku-chong's ears went deaf to everything else.
"You mean that martial-arts authority—the Flowing Rock Shattering Fist grandmaster, Bangu?"
He threw his arm around his companion's shoulders and shouted in excitement.
Within K City—or even the entire Human Federation—no one failed to recognize the name Bangu.
A world-renowned fist master of the highest order—his reputation was legendary.
"Let go of me—can't breathe!"
Though choked nearly to pain, his friend understood Ku-chong's excitement—this was Bangu, after all! The Flowing Rock Shattering Fist could truly transform mortals into superhumans.
Splitting boulders with a single punch, pushing the human body to its limits—that kind of martial art.
Which young man could resist such an allure?
Better than pumping iron, and just as addictive!
"I, Ku-chong, must become Grandmaster Bangu's disciple, transform into a stronger, better-looking warrior… and see who dares call me 'short-legged middle-aged Ku-chong' ever again."
If martial arts could push one's body to its limits, surely it could reforge one's face as well——turn him handsome.
Fifteen-year-old Ku-chong was almost obsessed with the idea of "becoming handsome."
At that moment, his eyes burned with fiery determination, a stark contrast to his earlier dejection.
Nearby, another tea-colored–haired youth shared his ambition.
"I, Cha Lanzi, will become Grandmaster Bangu's disciple and become irresistible to girls!"
But in the next instant, the boy was shoved aside by the surging crowd.
Though Bangu hadn't explicitly said so, the first person to reach the school would surely earn special favor. Everyone pushed with all their might—but the line didn't budge.
Another silver-haired boy, who'd happened by chance to be among the would-be disciples, overheard their conversation. His hair shot up in a V-shape—striking, but not unusual next to these "forty-year-old–looking" fifteen-year-olds.
"Grandmaster Bangu? Martial arts? I don't get it, but if it makes me stronger, I'm game."
A playful grin curled his lips. Originally, he'd just planned to find a side gig, but now he actually looked forward to this.
He surveyed the dense crowd ahead and, in one fluid motion, leapt onto their heads—using them like stepping-stones—and sprinted up the slope.
"Who stepped on my head?!"
"Don't push me, you jerk!"
"This is impossible—there's no way to reach the top!"
By the time the crowd decided to take revenge, the silver-haired youth was already far ahead.
His audacious maneuver inspired others.
"So there's another way…" Ku-chong prepared to mimic the silver-haired boy—stepping on people's heads to surge forward. But he hadn't accounted for his own size; people are not identical, especially in weight.
He sprang—but predictably, he barreled into a hefty man and sent him sprawling face-first into the dirt.
"Hey—hey! You looking for trouble?" The man sprang up, grabbed Ku-chong by the collar, and glowered. Ku-chong's legs went weak.
"I-I'm sorry, I—I'm only fifteen."
"Don't kid me, kid."
Tea-haired Lanzi, witnessing Ku-chong's plight, quietly abandoned his own plan.
Suddenly, a rapid "da-da-da-da" filled the air above the crowd, accompanied by a rush of wind. Everyone looked up.
Moments later, all the excited chatter distilled into a single thought:
"What the—?!"
"Another what?!"
"Another what?!"
"Is that even possible?"
A helicopter soared overhead toward Bangu's martial school, its rotors slicing through the sky.
As the whirring blades faded into the distance, the onlookers' gazes brimmed with envy and resentment.
No doubt about it—the first disciple was decided.
Those damn "money-power" types!
—End of Chapter 21—