Chapter Twenty-Eight: Great Minds Think Alike

Iron Dragon Martial Arts Hall.

Zhang Hao stared wide-eyed at the frosted glass wall, able to vaguely make out the shadows flickering inside, and occasionally glimpsing the cold gleam of sword blades reflecting light.

He had studied at Iron Dragon Martial Arts Hall for three years, but it was the first time he saw the hall master personally instruct someone in swordsmanship.

The Dragon Dance Sword was the hall’s secret art. It was said that only those who became disciples of Tie Dalong could learn this sword technique.

Zhang Hao had once proactively asked to become Tie Dalong’s disciple, but was rejected. Yet today, Tie Dalong was teaching a young man the Dragon Dance Sword. Could this youth be his new apprentice?

The sword room on the second floor had an electronic lock and surveillance at the entrance; only a select few were allowed inside.

There was nothing to learn through frosted glass, and no way to overhear the conversation within. After a few glances, Zhang Hao left and went down to the first floor, where he found Xu Ying, who was in charge of the reception.

“Xiao Ying, what’s the background of that new boy?” Zhang Hao, familiar with Xu Ying, feigned curiosity as he asked.

Xu Ying had delicate features and a reserved temperament, not really fit for a front desk role. But being a relative of the Tie family, she was often flirted with by others in the martial arts hall, though none dared cross the line.

Zhang Hao himself had invited her out twice, both times gently declined. Still, he often brought her snacks, so their relationship was fairly cordial.

Xu Ying glanced at the burly Zhang Hao and whispered, “He’s the hall master’s apprentice, named Gao Wu. Supposedly only eighteen, and already an advanced martial artist.”

“Oh...” Zhang Hao nodded, fully aware of how formidable an eighteen-year-old advanced martial artist was.

He was twenty-nine, only attaining advanced martial artist status last year. Overuse of injections had caused severe harm to his body.

After becoming an advanced martial artist, his strength increased, but his overall health declined. His liver and heart had developed abnormalities, requiring him to take a multitude of medications daily to control his condition, as well as nerve medicines for pain relief and sleep—only then could he rest.

The income of an advanced martial artist was decent, but compared to the cost, it hardly seemed worth it.

Zhang Hao knew clearly that only by condensing source energy and advancing to warrior status could he truly resolve his health issues. This was his main reason for wanting to become Tie Dalong’s disciple.

The Dragon Dance Sword was secondary; the key lay in accessing Tie Dalong’s resources, which would greatly increase his chances of advancement.

Now, with Tie Dalong accepting such a young disciple, his own chances were gone.

Thinking this, Zhang Hao felt a strong dislike—almost hatred—for the youth.

He sighed deeply in his heart: At this point, there’s no other choice...

At noon, while eating in the small cafeteria on the third floor, Zhang Hao saw the youth named Gao Wu.

The boy was nearly ten centimeters taller than him, his smile radiant, his voice hoarse yet pleasant—a very likable young man.

No matter how much malice Zhang Hao harbored towards Gao Wu, he wouldn’t show it, nor would he provoke him.

As an assistant instructor at the martial arts hall—a grown man—Zhang Hao was not so foolish.

Tie Ying introduced Gao Wu, “Zhang Hao, advanced martial artist, hall coach. Just call him Brother Zhang.”

Addressing older people as “brother” was a polite convention, much like calling elders “uncle,” without any real significance.

“Brother Zhang.” Gao Wu greeted Zhang Hao politely. Zhang Hao responded with enthusiasm, even standing up to shake hands and chat, “Bro, if you ever need anything, just come to me…”

Gao Wu paid little heed to Zhang Hao’s courteous words. In Beizhou, everyone was fond of making grand promises—taking them seriously meant you didn’t understand the culture.

The lunch provided by the hall was quite good, including a portion of black lamb chops, though small in quantity.

The rest were high-fat, high-oil foods, nutritionally sufficient—much better than school cafeteria fare.

After a hearty meal, Gao Wu’s impression of Iron Dragon Martial Arts Hall improved further. Tie Dalong, as a teacher, seemed very reliable.

After lunch, Tie Dalong took Gao Wu to the tea room and declined Gao Wu’s offer to brew tea himself.

“My tea leaves are grown in the Void Realm, containing source energy particles. Only special brewing methods can activate them—can’t let you waste them.”

Tie Dalong skillfully arranged the tea utensils as he explained the essence of swordsmanship: “The Dragon Dance Sword has only four moves. Riding the Wind adapts to circumstances. Breaking the Waves is a reverse strike. Piercing the Clouds is a thrust when opportunity arises. Splitting the Stone is a direct powerful slash.

“All other variations stem from these four. The foundation lies in footwork and movement—the dragon’s dance is agile, swift, and fierce…”

During the tea brewing, Tie Dalong explained the core of the Dragon Dance Sword in detail.

In the morning, he had taught the specific techniques and force variations; now was the time for theoretical explanation.

In his view, Gao Wu’s aptitude in swordsmanship was average—not a peerless genius.

After a morning’s practice, Gao Wu barely learned the moves, but the finer points were still far beyond his grasp.

Tie Dalong was not surprised—true geniuses were rare!

If Gao Wu were a true prodigy, he would have shone bright from the first day of training.

An eighteen-year-old advanced martial artist was formidable, but there were nearly twenty such youths in Dongjiang. Across Beizhou, advanced martial artists of that age were countless.

Such a youth could be considered outstanding among peers, or barely worthy of being called talented—far from being a genius.

However, Gao Wu had practiced swordsmanship all morning without any discomfort. His body was truly resilient!

Martial artists must train through hardship.

The human body has its limits, strengthening itself through cultivation, but also consuming itself. Finding a balance is crucial.

Gao Wu’s bones and muscles were naturally strong, able to withstand extreme training—a remarkable talent.

Tie Dalong continued, “The dragon moves with the wind, adapting to circumstances, yielding and taking advantage of openings—this is the hardest. Breaking the Waves, the dragon goes against the tide, the power rooted in its tail, is a reverse, agile strike.

“Piercing the Clouds—the dragon’s claws breaking through the clouds—this move captures that essence, nimble and swift. Splitting the Stone is simple, gathering all strength for a direct slash—the most straightforward and domineering move…”

Gao Wu listened attentively; learning theory in a relaxed state was very different from hands-on practice, and he understood the principles of swordsmanship much more thoroughly.

Undeniably, the Dragon Dance Sword was exquisite. Tie Dalong had studied swordsmanship for thirty years—his mastery was indeed profound.

His explanations were clear and accessible, conveying the essence and imagery of swordsmanship with clarity.

Though Gao Wu hadn’t mastered the techniques, he understood and remembered the underlying principles.

In the afternoon, Gao Wu went to the school martial arts hall for routine training.

Coach Huang Hai didn’t speak to him, as if his proposal yesterday had been forgotten. Gao Wu felt uneasy; the old man was sly—his silence was even more unsettling.

After training, Huang Hai kept Gao Wu back.

“You’re at the last stage of physical development; you can’t afford to waste time.”

Huang Hai handed Gao Wu a black leather pouch. “Take these twenty Blood Dragon shots and use them. Once you’ve fully absorbed their effects and stabilized, just win two matches for me at Jinsheng Arena.”

“This... is it really okay?” Gao Wu hesitated, but Huang Hai pressed the pouch into his hands. “Take it, train hard, don’t let me down.”

Before Gao Wu could refuse again, Huang Hai turned and left. Gao Wu felt no joy at receiving such a benefit, only concern—what scheme was the old fox planning?

On second thought, whether or not he accepted the medicine, he couldn’t prevent Huang Hai from plotting. It was best to take the advantage first.

If it came to a falling out—not to mention his grandfather or Song Mingyue—just the fact he’d recently apprenticed under Tie Dalong meant he needn’t fear Huang Hai. At worst, he could repay the cost of the Blood Dragon shots…

That evening, Gao Wu consulted Song Mingyue, “Is it all right for me to do this?”

“Blood Dragon shots suited for you are important—taking them first is always wise.”

Song Mingyue supported his decision. “Within a month you’ll fully absorb the twenty shots. By then, the Flying Mouse serum should be available.

“Another month to absorb ten Flying Mouse shots, compensating for your speed weakness. You should do well at the Xuetao Cup…”

With Song Mingyue’s approval, Gao Wu felt uneasy—Huang Hai being so generous was surely up to no good! He must not be careless.

Song Mingyue added, “But Huang Hai’s unusual kindness is a bit odd. Be careful.”

Hearing this, Gao Wu was actually delighted; the two of them were thinking alike! Excited, he said to Song Mingyue, “Great minds think alike!”

A sudden impulse struck Gao Wu, and he grabbed Song Mingyue’s hand, saying excitedly, “We’ve risked our lives together, and get along so well—let’s make a pact of brotherhood!”

Song Mingyue said nothing, her beautiful, sharp phoenix eyes showing a hint of confusion.

Gao Wu, receiving no response, chuckled awkwardly, “Just a silly idea, haha…”

Song Mingyue’s bright eyes lowered; she suddenly felt a bit regretful—not joining Gao Wu in his prank might have been fun. But without the mood, trying again would only feel awkward… She sighed inwardly: Next time, maybe I should humor Gao Wu, be a friend who doesn’t spoil the fun…

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