Afternoon of May 16th, Physical Activity Center.
Mr. Newman clasped his hands behind his back, took out a key, unlocked the iron gate of the Martial Arts Training Hall, and stepped inside.
Andrew Han followed behind.
"Close the door."
Mr. Newman's aged, deep voice came from up ahead.
Andrew Han pressed his lips together, turned to close the iron gate of the Martial Arts Training Hall, then looked back at Mr. Newman, unsure where to begin.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Countless questions surfaced in his mind.
As he hesitated, Andrew Han took a closer look at Mr. Newman... An old, black leather jacket, pitch-black trousers, and equally dark cloth shoes—these clothes, worn on Mr. Newman's deeply wrinkled face, exuded an oppressive, chilling aura.
He seemed like a terrifying beast.
The next moment.
Mr. Newman’s lips curled in a half-smile as he glanced at Andrew Han, then turned around, stepped forward with his right foot, and strode toward the low platform.
"Huh?"
"Mr. Newman's walking posture is a bit strange... It looks like he's about to step into thin air." Andrew Han thought, puzzled.
But before he could react—boom!!
It was like a sudden thunderclap on flat ground. Andrew Han watched as Mr. Newman's right foot exploded the air beneath him, sending out a shockwave!
A pure white shockwave!
It was just like the night when a punch shattered the air—he really did step into thin air!
Boom!
Mr. Newman stepped on the air, forcefully taking two steps, then landed gently beside the platform and sat down on a chair.
Creak.
He shifted the solid wood table in front of him and beckoned to Andrew Han, "Andrew, come here."
Gulp.
Andrew Han stared in shock, swallowing hard, his mind buzzing as he dazedly walked up to the solid wood table.
Unbelievable!
This is the power of martial arts!
To see the incredible power of martial arts right before his eyes, demonstrated by Mr. Newman, whom he interacted with so often, was beyond belief.
"Mr. Newman, are you even human?"
Andrew struggled to get the words out, asking instinctively.
At that moment, his mind was a chaotic swirl of questions. The high-level martial artist he'd sought after his rebirth was sitting right in front of him, separated only by a wooden table!
A high-level martial artist.
The crisis of demons and monsters.
The fact that he had killed someone yesterday afternoon.
These three basic factors spawned countless questions, leaving Andrew at a loss for words.
Thump, thump.
Mr. Newman rested his right hand on the table, tapping his fingertips against the surface.
The solid wood table was about seven or eight centimeters thick. Though it looked old, it was exceptionally sturdy; the passage of time had merely worn down its edges, highlighting its excellent quality.
"You're quite interesting."
Mr. Newman spoke expressionlessly: "You just switched to being a Martial Arts Program Student. I thought you were just a foolish, ignorant kid. That night, when I fought with a clown and you watched from behind a broken wall, I started paying attention to you."
"Lower Three Ranks, Middle Three Ranks, and now the Upper Three Ranks. Such terrifying speed of growth truly shocked me."