On a sunny morning, in a small courtyard behind the Jingwu Association, Jack Young was doing a handstand, arms braced on the ground. But he wasn’t just standing on his hands—Dr. Thomas Tang had drawn a bunch of circles on the ground, big and small, like the ones kids use to play hopscotch. Now, Jack had to play hopscotch—while upside down.
“You do your thing, I’ll keep talking.” Dr. Thomas Tang lounged in his rocking chair, swaying back and forth, and said, “Have you ever heard of a book published not long ago called Travels of Old Remnant?”
“Huh?” Jack Young, still upside down, was panting like a bull, his neck red, his face sweaty. “Travels of the Brain-Dead? That’s a savage book title!”
“It’s ‘Old’ Remnant…” Dr. Thomas Tang’s forehead twitched, and he picked up a pebble. “Pop quiz: In Travels of Old Remnant, there’s a special writing technique used a lot—describing sounds with visuals, describing taste with touch. What’s that technique called?”
“You…” Jack Young struggled to hop forward on his hands, wobbling into the next circle, panting and gritting his teeth. “Aren’t you supposed to be the PE teacher? Now you’re switching to teach literature?”
Dr. Thomas Tang closed his book, looked at Jack Young’s stubborn antics, and sighed, shaking his head like a craftsman faced with rotten wood: “I don’t even have the energy to throw something at you anymore…”
“Hey, what’s with that ‘I give up on you’ look? Don’t give up, Doc!”
“Alright, since you said so—wrong answer!” Dr. Thomas Tang flicked a pebble at Jack, who yelped in pain. Calmly, Tang announced, “The correct answer: Synesthesia.” Then he stood up and said, “Synesthesia isn’t just a literary device. In martial arts, it’s a real state of mastery.”
“So you mean, seeing with your ears and smelling with your eyes?”
“Pretty much.”
"That's not kung fu—that's monster stuff."
"Just remember this: when a person pushes all five senses to the limit, you can try connecting them, syncing them up. If you ever manage full sensory synchronization," Dr. Thomas Tang smiled, "you’ll be a real monster."
.........................
Old Veteran swung a punch at Jack Young’s chest. Jack was still stunned by the words 'Dr. Tang,' unable to dodge in time. In the nick of time, he raised his sword to block—crack! The Japanese blade snapped in two, but the fist kept coming.
Jack Young flung up both arms, unleashing soft power that wrapped around Old Veteran’s fist and forearm, trying to stop the heavy blow. His bones creaked, muscles strained, and the force was just too much—it still landed square on Jack’s chest.
Crunch! Jack’s chest and ribs groaned, not broken, but dented inward all at once by Old Veteran’s punch—like a spring mattress, flexible and shock-absorbing. At the same time, Jack’s feet slid back, using his body’s movement to buy some distance and soften the impact.
In that split second, Jack Young did everything humanly possible—his reflexes were insane. But Old Veteran’s power was at least sixth level Titan Spirit Method, way above Jack’s third level. Even with all that, Jack couldn’t fully absorb the blow. Whoosh—Jack went flying. It looked like he’d been knocked out, but really, he’d let himself get pushed away to avoid the worst of the impact.
Bang! Jack crashed into a metal box, busting through the thin sheet metal. As soon as his back hit, his muscles adjusted on instinct—so no broken bones. Still, his insides shook, his head spun, and the sharp metal edges left him cut and bleeding all over. For a moment, Jack couldn’t catch his breath, stuck in a daze.
See, sixth level Titan Spirit Method versus third level is like third level versus a regular person. When Jill Young was at third level, if she went all out on a normal person, it’d be a one-hit KO—if it wasn’t, something was seriously wrong. For Jack to take a punch head-on and not be wrecked? That’s peak martial arts right there.
Even so, if Old Veteran threw another punch right now, Jack Young would be toast.
At that moment, the elevator to the rooftop suddenly opened. Out rushed a dozen people—it was none other than Jonathan Black and the Scar crew. "Hey, big guy, over here!" Jonathan grinned wickedly and pulled the trigger: "Let's rock!"
Ratatat! Jonathan’s gun roared to life. This thing was truly ridiculous—mounted on a cart, massive body, four extra-long barrels, like a mini sci-fi space cannon. Every shot made the barrels recoil, then spring back, ready to fire again. All four barrels spat streams of blazing bullets, one after another.
In an instant, the wild barrage shredded every fuse box in the way and tore a chunk of flesh off Old Veteran. "Ha! This thing is awesome!" Jonathan’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
Old Veteran howled in pain and leapt at them. The Scar team sprang into action—two pushed the cart and fired as they ran, while another pair whipped out special tube-shaped weapons, aiming at Old Veteran mid-air. Bang! Instead of bullets, out came two huge nets, wrapping Old Veteran tight and sparking with electricity. For a moment, he was slowed, landing on the ground. He grabbed the net and tore it to shreds with a rip, about to charge again—when two more weapons targeted him.
Whoosh—two chains shot out. Picture the Nebula Chains from Saint Seiya, with giant spiked tips that stabbed into Old Veteran. The other ends fired like grappling hooks, latching onto the floor and pinning Old Veteran in place. "Roar!" Old Veteran yanked one chain, ripping up a chunk of flooring. About to pull the other, he saw Scar’s people hauling out two big tubes, covered in honeycomb-like cells.
This chapter isn’t over yet~.~ Click next page for more action!
The Scar leader pulled the trigger, and instantly, a rain of sparks flew at Old Veteran. Boom! Explosions erupted in rapid succession, fire blasting everywhere, forcing everyone to duck and cover. "I’m immortal!" A massive figure strode out of the flames, wounds healing as he walked—Old Veteran stomped the ground and charged the crowd.
"Spread out! Stick to the plan!" In a flash, gunfire erupted and the battle exploded.
While Scar and Old Veteran traded fire, inside the busted metal box, Jack Young struggled to roll over. "Dr. Tang…" Jack gritted his teeth, eyes bloodshot, his expression shifting from disbelief, to sorrow, to rage, to pure resolve. Bam—he grabbed the jagged edge of the box and hauled himself up from the debris. Staring at Old Veteran rampaging through Scar’s attacks, Jack pulled out a strip of meat, stuffed it in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and sprang into action!
Braving the hail of bullets and fiery blasts, veins bulged on Jack’s face as he roared in silence. His mind was laser-focused—the world slowed down, everything crystal clear. Sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch—the five senses, like five outstretched fingers, now curled into a single, powerful fist.
In the space between fury and calm, Jack Young found a strange clarity. Dr. Tang’s teachings flashed through his mind: “True masters don’t kick high,” “To beat the strong, attack the lower body,” “The earth is your source of strength”… In a blink, a dagger appeared in Jack’s hand—he drove it into Old Veteran’s Achilles tendon.
Old Veteran roared and stomped, shattering the ground, but Jack darted like a phantom, dodging the wild stomps. His dagger flashed, slicing up Old Veteran’s legs. Scar and Jonathan Black stared in awe—at the heart of chaos, Jack moved like a dancer, fierce and graceful.