Even though I'd been adapting to the intense training over the past week, Master Takayashi hinted that things wouldn't ease up until the New Year. That's endurance training for you, I guess.
After today's session, I handed him a stack of documents I'd prepared. "Master Takayashi, this is a martial arts manual my family stumbled upon decades ago. I was hoping you could take a look and let me know if it's genuine."
The manual I passed him was the Eighteen Crushing Falls, redeemed straight from the Transcendence Game Store. I'd memorized the moves, of course, and kept the original safely tucked away at home. But without proper guidance, I didn't dare practice it solo.
Master Takayashi casually took the document, saying, "Hmm? It's actually not uncommon for students' families to possess old techniques or have passed-down teachings."
"But, over the years, most true secrets have faded away or been absorbed into modern martial arts styles."
At first, Master Takayashi was explaining the history of these techniques, but then his expression turned serious as he skimmed through the manual.
I kept an eye on him, gauging his reaction. "Lucas," he said slowly, "you say your family just… stumbled upon this?"
"Oh, right," I replied, tossing out a story. "My grandpa's martial arts master apparently entrusted it to him on his deathbed. But he only learned bits and pieces of it. So, he left this Eighteen Crushing Falls as a family keepsake. I remember seeing it as a kid, always hoping to find a teacher to learn it properly. Now, finally, here we are."
Master Takayashi finished reading and paused in thought before he spoke again. "Your grandpa's teacher must have been a true martial artist. I've studied a version of Eighteen Crushing Falls myself. It's a sophisticated grappling technique—combining wrestling moves with Taichi's concept of using the opponent's strength against them."
He looked at the manual again, thoughtfully. "This version is similar to what I know, but the technique adjustments are fascinating. And it seems to emphasize a unique combination of 'internal strength' and force—quite unlike the 'three internal harmonies' of our internal martial arts, where intention, energy, and strength are united."
"Maybe it has some kind of complementary hard qigong," he murmured, almost to himself. "After all, we're not exactly wielding the mystical 'inner force' like in wuxia novels."
I nodded along, feeling pretty confident. This was clearly the 5,000-point investment working its magic. "Setting aside the mystical inner force bit, would you be able to teach me these techniques? I'd be willing to cover any additional fees for extra classes, of course."
Master Takayashi gave me a wry smile. "Are you sure? This Eighteen Crushing Falls was the kind of secret martial manual that would have caused brawls in the old days. If I start teaching it to you, it's practically like I'd be mastering it myself."
I waved him off, not the least bit worried. "Master Takayashi, that was then, this is now—it's 2020, and we're in a modern society, not some martial arts underworld."
" These days, martial arts are about cultural heritage, not picking fights. Isn't it better to pass down these teachings and enrich the martial arts world? Instead of hoarding it, why not let it shine?"
Master Takayashi looked at me, surprised. "I didn't expect you to see things so clearly. Society has modernized, and our traditions, our martial arts, must modernize too. Tradition has its place, but at times, you have to adapt. But, despite knowing this, many refuse to share their family's techniques. Stubbornness has caused so many valuable arts to fade away."
He clasped his fists together in a respectful salute. "Lucas, since you trust me—trust us here at Miyamura Dojo—I promise not to let you down. And as for any fees, forget it. If anything, I should be paying you for access to such a rare manual."
I returned his bow in the same manner, saying, "Then I'll leave these copies with you. Do you think, at my current pace, I could start practicing next month?"
Master Takayashi stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Next month, we should be able to start some practical training. Eighteen Crushing Falls is quite effective in actual combat. If you'd like, we can use it as the foundation for your sparring practice. How about that?"
I nodded, 'that is exactly what I want.'
After a long bath and a good meal, I strolled back home, feeling satisfied.
I was progressing well, but as a beginner, it'd still take a solid three months of hard training to reach a decent combat level. And that's with an experienced instructor, advanced equipment, and professional nutrition.
The January mission will be soul transference. I don't know how it works, or what it does. With luck, I'll end up in someone who already knows martial arts.
Worst case, I land in a body with some handicap—wouldn't that be a nightmare. Guess I'd better be prepared with some brainpower… no wonder they value me for my smarts.
'Victory by brains… But when can I just have a little fun with brute force?'
I glanced at my phone; a message from Vicky sayinh he'd finished moving in and wanted to treat me to a meal next week.
Hmm, speaking of which, Ava should have settled in too.
—
Sure enough, as I reached the door, I noticed several pairs of women's shoes on the shoe rack, 'Maybe it's time to break the ice with my new housemate.'
Just then, the door to the guest room opened, and Ava stepped out.
She was dressed in a soft beige long-sleeve and loose gray sweats, with light blue slippers on her feet. The clothes weren't exactly form-fitting, but they accentuated her figure in… unexpected ways.
I blinked. The last time I'd seen her, she'd been wearing an oversized hoodie. Her current look hinted at a much more striking figure underneath.
Not that I was in any mood to dwell on it. After a day of training, I barely had the energy to spare her more than a glance.
She seemed in better spirits than yesterday—her complexion no longer had that delicate, frail look, and her fair skin held a touch of rosiness. She had her damp hair swept over her left shoulder, held in place by a towel, and her dark eyes met mine calmly.
"Good evening," she greeted me, her voice soft but clear. "I've already signed the lease. Would you like to take a look?"
"Oh? Sure. If it's all good with you, then I'll just add my signature. While we're at it, I can go over some of my household habits, and you can let me know if you have any preferences or concerns."
We sat down at the table, and I took a quick look at the contract before signing. "This copy is for you. As for daily life, feel free to use the kitchen. I'm not around much, so you'll practically have it to yourself. Same goes for the living room—anything you want to put there is fine, as long as it's not too big. Honestly, I spend most of my time in my room, so as long as it's quiet, you can use the place as you like."
Ava nodded agreeably.
Seeing her response, I continued, listing a few house rules about cleaning, shared spaces, guests, and so on. After a few minutes of talking, I realized my mouth was dry and went to pour a glass of water.
"That should cover it. Care for a glass of water? If everything sounds good, then cheers to a harmonious shared space."
She shook her head with a small smile. "I'm just grateful for a place to stay on such short notice. I don't have any special requests."
I waved off her politeness. "No need for formalities, Ms.Ava, Vicky's my good friend, and I really sympathize with what you went through. I saw the news about BeNest Apartments last week, and it was infuriating. The way they pulled those shady financial moves… Despicable."
Her faint smile turned a little sad. "Thank you. Just call me Ava. How did you and Vicky meet?"
"You can also call me Lucas or even just Luke. Vicky and I were dormmates in our freshman year. You know how it is; we all got along like family. He studied computer science, I studied economics. We even had a couple of math classes together. He only passed thanks to my tutoring; without it, he'd have been hopeless."
She laughed, and I felt myself relaxing a bit more. I started sharing some funny stories about our dorm days, emphasizing my disappointment over Vicky ditching our 'bro code' for love.
"Vicky mentioned you're also an alumnus of Coastal University. What did you major in? How was campus life compared to what you expected after graduation?"
Ava slowly ran a towel over her damp hair, speaking quietly. "I studied media and digital production. I was ambitious back then—thought I'd be a producer someday."
She let out a soft sigh. "But after graduation, finding a job was almost impossible. It took eight months before I landed a spot at a small company. Then, just a few months later, the pandemic hit, and I got laid off. And the long road of job-hunting began again…"
Her eyes dimmed with sorrow as she stared off into the distance. "My family isn't well-off. Just getting me through college was already hard enough, and then COVID made everything worse."
"The rent at BeNest Apartments was lower than most places. Back then, I was desperate, trying to save every cent. My family had stretched thin to help cover my rent through the pandemic, so when I saw that price, I jumped at it. But I barely lived there half a year…" Her voice took on a bitter edge, her expression rueful.
I fell silent. Life wasn't just hard—it was downright unforgiving. Even with how well we'd managed to control the pandemic here, the costs had been immense.
With the economy on pause, companies with shaky finances began collapsing like dominos. In the end, a high-risk, borderline-scam like BeNest Apartments was bound to implode.
Even firms with solid books and prudent management had been bled dry. She wiped a corner of her eye, a trace of mockery in her tone. "Now the landlord's calling me nonstop, demanding rent. But every cent I had saved up was stolen by BeNest Apartments. Where would I find the money to pay him?"
I couldn't hold back. "Look, just stick to one thing: tell him to join you in going after BeNest for restitution. Don't discuss anything else."
"If he wants his rent, he'll have to go after it legally from BeNest. If their contract falls under an agency agreement, then the agent—BeNest—who ran off with the money is his problem, not yours. He can't legally chase you for the loss; that's on the agency."