Fang Cheng lifted his head, gazing at the sky, blue and clear as if washed, and stepped forward toward the school gate. Last night, the Karate teaching DVDs he obtained from Wu Datong were still in his bag. First, find a restaurant for a meal, then go to the electronics mall to buy the latest high-definition DVD player. Then return home at Sea Sky Garden, study it thoroughly, and strive to unlock new skills. Moreover, Dong Yunchuan mentioned the weekend gathering of the Martial Arts Research Association members. He indeed has some doubts about Qigong cultivation and traditional martial arts that need consulting with Ma Jianguo and others. In this world, regardless of how rules are set or environments change. Keeping strength in one’s own hands is always the most fundamental law to deal with all troubles. Because a strong fist itself is the hardest rationale for maintaining order. ......... This text is hosted at n0velfire.net In the early morning, the bedroom was tranquil. Heavy curtains blocked all the outside light and sound, and the darkness was as still as water. The piercing sound of the alarm abruptly tore through the serenity. The phone screen by the bed suddenly lit up, displaying the time in cold white digits—4:00. On the bed, Fang Cheng’s eyes opened instantly, with not a trace of sleepiness in his pitch-black pupils, as alert as if waiting for a long time. The next second, his whole body sprang up swiftly, landing steadily on the floor with a smooth leap. He reached out and turned off the still blaring alarm. The room returned to silence. He put on slippers and silently walked out of the bedroom. Simple washing, the cold water splashed on his face, brought a refreshing sensation. The reflection of the young man in the mirror showed sharp eyes, energy filled, with no sign of exhaustion from lack of sleep. Fang Cheng smiled faintly, then walked to the living room and glanced out the window. The sky was still a deep dark blue, the city was still asleep. Only the sporadic headlights on the distant main road moved like fireflies. Without delay, he changed into a blue tracksuit, zipped it up. Then opened the door, walked out, and gently closed the door behind him, locking it. The entire process was silent, movements as light as a prowling leopard. In the same building, in a similarly darkened bedroom. A girl wearing pure white silk pajamas was sitting in a wheelchair, leaning by the window. She seemed to have been awake for a while, or perhaps, had no intention of sleeping at all. She was simply gazing quietly out at the dormant world, lost in thought. Suddenly, her eyes slightly focused. Downstairs, that familiar figure in a blue tracksuit appeared once more under the dim glow of the streetlights. She watched as the person slightly spread his legs, raised his arms over his head, stretching backward. Then, he rotated his wrists and ankles, twisted his torso. Every movement was stretched to the utmost, his body transformed into a taut bowstring, brimming with a sense of strength. The girl’s eyes sparkled, instinctively leaning forward as though wishing to see better. Yet at that moment, the person had finished warming up, slightly bent his legs, and then set off with agile steps towards the direction of the community gate. A mix of curiosity and disappointment crossed the girl’s face. At the same time, in a level above her, someone else remained awake. On the room’s floor, a complex circular pattern was drawn, with a circle of long-extinguished white candles on the design’s nodes. The wax had solidified, leaving only short stubs, seemingly burnt all night. The bathroom door clicked open. A man emerged, with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hands rubbing his wet hair with a towel. His bare upper torso was pale, with muscles sleek and toned, without a trace of excess fat, conveying an aesthetic of harmony. The man casually draped the towel over his shoulder, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and habitually peered down at the still slumbering city. His gaze roamed around. The figure running downstairs in the early hours also came into his view. Watching that man in the blue tracksuit disappear at a remarkable speed around the community corner, he couldn’t help but click his tongue. "That guy, more driven than I am..." "Can working out really become addictive?" He mused to himself, as that figure had already crossed the empty street, heading towards the distant beach. Seemingly to run towards the place where the tides rise and fall, the break of dawn.