Chapter 2: Qin Dahai

Chapter 2: Qin Dahai

The meal ended in silence.

Qin Dahai cleared the dishes, while Qin Feng stood by.

“Your body… martial arts training is indeed a struggle.”

Qin Dahai rinsed the plates as he spoke. “Actually, vocational school isn’t so bad. You can live a steady life, unknown but secure. The path of martial arts is forged through blood and fire…”

“I want to try.”

Qin Feng said, “If I really can’t get into a martial arts high school, I’ll go to vocational school. I just won’t get a good pick if I miss the early admission.”

“Alright, Dad supports you.”

Qin Dahai dried his hands, walked to the living room, and dialed a call on his wrist terminal.

A light screen flickered to life, showing a middle-aged man in blue work clothes, his face smeared with grease.

“Dahai?”

On the other end was his brother-in-law Wang Ming, a power armor mechanic.

The background was noisy, filled with the clang of metal and the roar of machinery.

“Ah Ming, busy?”

“Just finished repairing the leg hydraulics on a ‘Storm Bear.’ Taking a break. What’s up?”

Wang Ming grabbed a water jug and took a long gulp.

“I need to ask you something. You know about Xiao Feng’s situation. The school is pushing him toward vocational school—he won’t be allowed to train in martial arts there until after the high school entrance exam. I’m wondering if you know any reliable, professional martial arts gyms?”

Wang Ming fell silent.

He knew well how expensive martial arts gyms could be.

“Brother, Xiao Feng’s condition… going to a gym, I’m afraid…”

He didn’t finish, but the meaning was clear.

“Let him try. We can’t just let it go.”

Qin Dahai’s voice remained steady.

“True.”

Wang Ming rubbed his chin.

“‘Limitless Martial Arts Gym,’ over in Industrial Zone Three. The owner is Sun Chantang, with a solid reputation—our factory manager specifically mentioned him. The fees… I hear the regular class is three thousand a month, and the owner’s class is ten thousand a month.”

“Alright. Send me his contact info.”

“Sure.”

The call ended, and soon a contact card appeared on Qin Dahai’s terminal.

“Dad, that’s too expensive.”

Qin Feng’s eyes widened.

His father earned ten thousand imperial coins a month, which had to cover rent, utilities, food, and the extra nutritional supplements Qin Feng needed for his health. There was hardly anything left.

The cheapest class was three thousand a month, and the owner’s class was ten thousand.

“Don’t worry about the money.”

Qin Dahai forwarded the contact to Qin Feng. “Tomorrow, go see your uncle. He’ll take you to check it out.”

“Dad…”

“Go to sleep.”

Qin Dahai cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Qin Feng returned to his room.

It was tiny, with just a bed and a desk.

He lay down, staring at the ceiling.

The next morning, as his father instructed, Qin Feng went to his uncle Wang Ming’s house.

Wang Ming lived in the even more remote “Red Leaf” community, in a house smaller than Qin Feng’s, where six people squeezed into two rooms.

When Qin Feng arrived, three younger cousins were chasing each other in the living room, while the youngest cried in a cradle.

Wang Ming had just finished a night shift, dark circles under his eyes, looking exhausted.

“Xiao Feng’s here, have a seat.”

He gestured to Qin Feng, then called into the house, “Li Juan, get the kid a glass of water.”

Aunt Li Juan poked her head out of the kitchen. She looked haggard, with wrinkles deeper than those of others her age.

She glanced at Qin Feng, nodded, and poured a glass of water.

“Aunt.”

Qin Feng greeted her.

“Your dad told me everything last night.”

Wang Ming motioned for him to sit, pulling up a chair for himself. “As for the Limitless Martial Arts Gym, I’ll send you the owner’s contact directly. Add him and say I, Wang Ming, referred you.”

He operated his wrist terminal and forwarded Sun Chantang’s contact card to Qin Feng.

“Our factory manager said Coach Sun is upright, doesn’t go in for flashy nonsense, and specifically recommended him to us.”

Wang Ming lowered his voice. “I hear he once fought in the Star Cup, then spent decades with a caravan of itinerant merchants—he’s got real skill.”

“Thanks, Uncle.”

“We’re family, no need for that.”

Wang Ming looked at his nephew—tall enough, but thin, with a pale, sickly complexion. He fumbled in his pocket as if to pull out a cigarette, then stopped.

“The enrollment fee is ten thousand a month. I’ll…”

“Uncle, my dad will give it to me.”

Qin Feng quickly said.

Wang Ming ignored him and directly operated his terminal.

A moment later, Qin Feng’s terminal beeped.

[Received transfer from Wang Ming: 10,000 Imperial Coins.]

“Uncle, this won’t do!”

Qin Feng shot to his feet. “Your family…”

“Take it.”

Wang Ming’s tone grew firmer. “Your dad raising you alone isn’t easy. As your uncle, this is the least I can do. If you feel bad about it, when you’ve made something of yourself, take good care of your dad, and look after these younger cousins too.”

He forced the transfer through, leaving Qin Feng no chance to refuse.

"Go ahead. Add him on WeChat and set up a time to go see."

Qin Feng held the heavy transfer of funds, his eyes growing a bit hot.

He stood up and bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Uncle."

He said no more, turned, and left.

Some debts of gratitude weigh heavier in the heart than on the lips.

After Qin Feng left, the living room fell into a brief silence.

Aunt Li Juan walked out of the kitchen, looked at Wang Ming, her lips moving.

"You gave him the money?"

"Mm."

Wang Ming leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

"Ah Ming, do you know our situation? The second child's nutrient solution runs out next month, and the third child's school uniform needs replacing. Ten thousand—that's more than a month's food money for our whole family!"

Li Juan's voice was low, but filled with exhaustion and helplessness.

"That boy Xiaofeng has had that root problem since childhood; he's not cut out for martial arts. This money of yours—isn't it just throwing it away?"

She had seen the transfer record just now, the number stinging her eyes.

Wang Ming looked up at his wife.

"Li Juan, he's my sister's only son. His father treated me like a real brother. Back when I couldn't find a job, he used his veteran connections to get me into the repair shop."

"I know, that's not what I meant..."

Li Juan's tone softened. "I just think we need to take care of our own family first. That nephew of yours has a good heart, but that body... sigh, this money isn't worth it."

"Worth it or not, we'll only know after he tries."

Wang Ming stood up and walked to the window. "He calls me Uncle; I have to give him something to hope for."

Li Juan watched her husband's back, then turned and went back to the kitchen.

In the pot, cheap synthetic rice porridge was steaming.

——

Qin Feng returned home.

His father had already gone to work.

The empty house held only him.

He sat on the living room sofa and opened the contact his uncle had pushed to him.

[Name: Sun Chantang (Extreme Martial Arts Hall)]

He took a deep breath and sent a friend request.

[Request sent.]

While waiting, Qin Feng stood up and walked to the balcony.

The balcony was tiny, barely enough for one person to turn around.

He assumed a stance, setting up the opening posture of the *Imperial Basic Body-Tempering Method*.

He had been practicing this body-tempering method since first grade—nine full years.

Every movement, every detail, was etched into his bones.

He slowly sank his hips, raised his arms, and made a "Mountain-Splitting" motion.

The movement was perfect, flawless.

But only he knew that every time he practiced, the flow of spiritual energy was extremely sluggish, like a rusted gear forced to turn—twice the effort, half the result.

Qin Feng performed the complete set of nine movements of the *Imperial Basic Body-Tempering Method* from start to finish.

The movements were precise, meticulous.

Until his vision went dark and his whole body ached.

For an ordinary person, practicing to this point would require only replenishing nutrients and resting; the body would recover and become tougher, and the vitality index would naturally rise.

Simply put, cultivation follows three steps: damage, recovery, and enhancement.

But because of his hidden ailment, Qin Feng's recovery step was far, far too slow.

After finishing one round of the basic body-tempering method, Qin Feng lay down on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

(End of this chapter)