Riverdale.
A taxi sped along the elevated highway, heading towards Riverdale Martial Arts Academy.
Andrew Han sat quietly in the back seat, his expression calm. He reached up to touch the ruptured wound on his shoulder—astonishingly, it had already healed and did not affect his movement at all.
Hmm.
He gazed out the window, deep in thought.
The Graywhite Aura possessed the remarkable ability to enhance all aspects of physical fitness—not just strength, but also recovery, making healing highly efficient.
This was also an indirect improvement in martial prowess.
If his body's self-healing ability improved further in the future, perhaps even in the heat of battle, his wounds would gradually heal, having no impact on his fighting.
Buzz buzz.
The taxi exited the elevated highway. The driver glanced at the rearview mirror and started a conversation: "Are you planning to choose a martial arts academy to practice martial arts?"
Andrew Han was heading from Honglu Martial Arts Gym to Riverdale Martial Arts Academy.
The driver assumed Andrew was choosing a martial arts academy suitable for himself, preparing to train. But he had once learned by chance that the training fees at these academies were exorbitant, and couldn't help but feel curious.
"No."
Andrew withdrew his gaze and shook his head.
The driver chuckled, "I thought so. Training at a martial arts academy is so expensive. Those young people practicing there, I really wonder what they're thinking. Must have money to burn."
"Heh, it's not that expensive," Andrew replied perfunctorily.
Not expensive?
The driver secretly clicked his tongue and couldn't help but say, "You probably don't know the fees. I have a friend who wanted to train, and guess what... he went to ask about the cost, and the monthly fee was a hundred thousand Huaguo dollars."
"That's just for one month!"
"With such high fees, who would go train? They must really have nothing better to do."
Andrew Han didn't respond, continuing to gaze out the window.
Ordinary people are unaware of the Martial Arts World, so they don't understand why anyone would spend a fortune to train. This is perfectly normal. Whether martial arts training is expensive depends on the individual.
At least for him, it wasn't expensive.
His bank card alone held over a million Sinovera dollars, not to mention the assets he was about to inherit from Mr. Stone.
Seeing that Andrew Han wasn't in the mood to chat, the driver focused on the road.
Buzz, buzz.
The car returned to silence, with only the hum of the engine and the distant honking from outside.
Andrew Han looked out at the busy streets—cars streaming by, crowds of pedestrians. His mood relaxed a little, and he suddenly remembered the gift he'd received from his uncle last time. He still hadn't picked up the car.
But the driver's license was a problem.
His memories from his previous life made him quite familiar with driving. Plus, with his current physical abilities—keen senses, agile reflexes—getting a license or driving on the road would be no challenge at all.
But he couldn't just rely on being a martial artist and drive without a license.
Andrew Han pondered for a moment, then took out his phone. "Victor Dong should have a way. Getting a license takes too much time—I'll ask him to help me get one quickly."
Swipe, swipe.
He quickly sent two WeChat messages.
In less than three minutes, Victor Dong replied. All he needed was photos of both sides of Andrew's ID card, and the license would be ready by tomorrow.
Click, click.
Andrew Han snapped two photos and sent them over.
Immediately after, his phone buzzed twice again—this time, it was a QQ message from Monica Zhang. Ever since Andrew Han started at Honglu Martial Arts Gym, Monica had sent him two or three unread messages every half hour.
More than ten text messages and four or five voice notes, all filled with anxiety.
Swipe.
Andrew Han flipped through the messages twice, lips pressed together.
After pondering for a moment, he sent two standard replies, not wanting Monica Zhang to worry about him needlessly.
Sigh.
Andrew let out a soft sigh, tucked his phone away, and gazed out the car window at the receding skyscrapers, lost in thought. Suddenly, a wave of confusion and uncertainty washed over him.
"Are the memories from my previous life really reliable?"
"Why do I feel like this is my true life, the one that truly belongs to me?"
......
Riverdale Martial Arts Academy.
The street outside was just as quiet and peaceful, and the academy's modest facade exuded a sense of weight and history.
A gentle breeze drifted by as sunlight bathed everything in warmth.
Andrew stepped out of the taxi and strode purposefully toward the academy's main entrance.
Whether or not Louis Zheng was plotting with Stone Martial Arts Gym against him, Andrew had to see for himself—and at the very least, deliver a warning.
Click.
Andrew pushed open the glass door and entered the Riverdale Martial Arts Academy.
Inside, he was greeted by a simple, ivory-colored reception desk. A young woman in business-casual attire stood behind it. Beyond the desk lay a spacious training area.
The receptionist was shaping her eyebrows when she saw Andrew. She hurriedly set her makeup kit aside.
"Hello, welcome to Riverdale Martial Arts Academy. How may I help you today?" she greeted him with a polite smile.
"I'd like to see Louis Zheng," Andrew replied with a smile.
"You wish to see our Master Zheng? May I have your name, and did you make an appointment?" The receptionist blinked and asked courteously.
"No, I haven't." Andrew shook his head.
"I'm sorry, but without an appointment, I can't arrange a meeting with Master Zheng. It's academy policy—thank you for understanding." The receptionist explained quickly.
"No need. I'll call him out myself."
Andrew's lips curled into a cold smile. He bypassed the reception desk and walked to the edge of the spacious training area, flanked by offices, changing rooms, and washrooms on either side.
......
On the training floor.
A sallow-faced middle-aged man was carefully instructing seven or eight teenagers in advanced martial arts stance training.
"Uncle Leon, these stances are exhausting. Can we take a break?" A bright-eyed girl pleaded softly, sweat soaking her yellowish-brown hair. The other teens were also panting, clearly worn out.
Leon Booth was about to shake his head. "No—"
Suddenly—
A powerful, resounding shout echoed through the training hall, chilling the air: "Louis Zheng, come out and face me!"
The shout reverberated, immense and overwhelming.
The receptionist, who had rushed toward Andrew in panic, was so startled by the outburst that her lightly made-up face turned pale, and she froze in shock. The teens practicing stances were also jolted, their forms collapsing as their hearts raced.
Their stances had never been stable to begin with.
Now, after hearing such a commanding shout, their minds buzzed in confusion.
"Who is he? How dare he?" The girl with yellow-brown hair widened her almond eyes, a little annoyed.
She wasn't afraid in the slightest.
Standing beside her was Leon Booth, a First Rank martial artist who could break boards with his bare hands and shake the ground with a stomp.
Any young man who dared to shout so rudely was sure to get a beating.
Coincidentally, Leon Booth was in a foul mood today, so the blue-shirted youth's fate would likely be miserable—maybe even end up with a bloody head.
At the edge of the training floor—