The session had ended, and Alex found himself back at his apartment, replaying the sparring match in his mind. He was content with his progress, but as his mind cooled down from the adrenaline rush of the fight, a creeping realization began to take root. It wasn't the sharp focus or mental clarity he had cultivated that concerned him—it was his body.
For all the precise movements and mental quickness he had displayed, his body had been stiff, almost sluggish at times. Sure, to an observer, it might've looked fluid enough, especially with how he'd read the tutor's moves in advance. But Alex could feel it—his body hadn't responded with the smoothness he'd hoped for. There had been a disconnect between his mind and his physical form.
It wasn't just a matter of conditioning. His punches lacked the snap and rhythm that came naturally to someone who had trained their body for years. His kicks were slightly too deliberate, not fluid enough, not instinctual.
He knew exactly what the problem was.
His body was old.
Not in the sense of actual age—he wasn't even in his thirties yet—but it wasn't the body of someone who had been practicing martial arts since childhood. It wasn't as flexible, as loose, or as naturally responsive. His limbs moved with a stiffness that became obvious under the pressure of a real fight. And while he could rely on his mental strength to compensate for now, Alex was keenly aware that if he ever faced someone with similar mental abilities, he would be in serious trouble.
His edge came from being able to read his opponent's moves faster, but if his body couldn't react with the same precision, he'd be at a severe disadvantage. In a serious fight, his lack of flexibility would get him beaten to a pulp.
He sat on the edge of his bed, stretching his arms and legs, testing his body for the stiffness he had felt earlier. "It's not enough to just know the moves," he muttered to himself. "I need to move like water."
That's when the idea hit him. Tai Chi.
He'd heard about it before, of course. An ancient Chinese martial art that focused not on brute force or speed, but on fluidity, balance, and control. It was the opposite of what he had been practicing. Instead of sharp strikes and hard blocks, Tai Chi was about soft, circular motions, harnessing internal strength rather than external strength.
This was exactly what he needed—something to loosen up his body, to improve his flexibility and fluidity. And more importantly, it would allow him to channel his mental strength into smoother, more natural movements. The thought of becoming more fluid in his motions excited him. With Tai Chi, he wouldn't just be fast; he'd be fast and graceful, unpredictable in his movements.
He couldn't wait for his one-on-one training in Tai Chi. It was the missing piece, the key to unlocking the full potential of his body to match his mental abilities.
The anticipation built up inside him. He had already reached out to his current instructor for more advanced lessons, but now he would focus on Tai Chi to address the glaring weakness in his physicality. The sooner he started, the better.
Alex smirked to himself, feeling a new sense of purpose. His training was just getting started. The road ahead was long, but he was determined to transform not just his mind, but his entire body into something that could keep up with the challenges he was certain would come.
Tomorrow, he'd contact his tutor and discuss integrating Tai Chi into his regimen. For now, he stretched, pushing his body to its limits, eager to be better prepared for whatever lay ahead.