On the brown dining table.
Andrew Han explained away his bone-crushing bite as a result of martial arts training.
Still, his expression was a bit dark... The ribs really were delicious, especially given their toughness—the crunch was deeply satisfying.
But still.
Why did Mom have to compare him to the big yellow dog? Was that even a fair comparison?
"Eat slowly."
"Don't rush, really, don't rush—whatever you do, don't choke." Linda Chen watched her son Andrew Han anxiously, secretly clicking her tongue, as if her own teeth ached just thinking about it.
Whew.
After a long moment, Linda finally let out a breath, thinking to herself... The ribs that even the big yellow dog couldn't bite through, her son had chewed to powder—he was even tougher than the dog!
On the other side of the table.
William Han, who had been reading news on his phone, stared blankly at his son, a look of astonishment crossing his brow.
"Can martial arts training really make someone this strong?"
"They say there are martial artists above the Upper Three Ranks... Could it be that, at the highest level, you can even chew through steel?" William's imagination ran wild, drawing connections and coming to some startling conclusions.
Could it be—
Sir Newman is actually one of those formidable martial artists?
This was worlds apart from what they'd previously assumed; they'd always thought Sir Newman was just a retired official enjoying his golden years.
A chilling suspicion formed in William Han's heart, but he kept silent.
Slurp, slurp.
Andrew Han drank his soup as usual, noticing his father's hesitation but saying nothing more.
If he ever reached the realm of a peerless Martial Lord, perhaps then he could reveal the truth of the Martial Arts World to his family.
The only regret was that his parents were now too old for martial arts; even with advanced Stance Training, they could never reach the Middle Three Ranks.
The rising steam from the hot soup drifted over the dining table.
It made Lucy Han's eyes look even brighter and more lively; she sat in her brother's lap, glancing around, sometimes peeking at her mom, sometimes staring at the steaming plain soup bowl, quietly wiping away a bit of drool.
Munch, munch.
Listening to her brother's voice, Lucy shifted her position twice, growing drowsy. Eventually, she fell asleep against Andrew's sturdy chest, her small lips occasionally smacking together.
"Lucy."
Andrew's gaze was full of affection as he gently smoothed Lucy Han's glossy black hair.
This was all he ever wanted.
After all the chaos outside, Andrew cherished the peace at home even more; this was the happiness he had fought to protect all his life.
......
Night had deepened; the lights were out.
Tick, tick.
Only the sound of the clock turning echoed in the bedroom, faint but rhythmic.
Huff.
Andrew stood for a while in the Solar Pillar Stance before preparing to sleep... Since their apartment was a normal building, he couldn't practice the Mountain-Sketch Pillar Stance here—it might collapse the floor—so for now, the Solar Pillar Stance would have to do.
Suddenly.
A calm voice drifted into the bedroom: "Disciple, come to your Master."
Master?
Andrew paused, a bit puzzled, drew the curtains open, and looked out at the dark building across the way, still confused.
He'd planned to visit his Master tomorrow.
However.
Since his master had summoned him, Andrew felt obliged to go—out of respect for tradition, not because of any threat or coercion.
......
Mr. Newman's residence.
The spacious living room was tidy, likely cleaned regularly by dedicated staff.
"Master."
Andrew stood beside the sofa, watching his master, Mr. Newman, whose expression was calm and indifferent. He couldn't help feeling a bit expectant.
He figured he was finally qualified to learn about the sect.
He recalled how the heavy responsibility for the sect's rise and fall once rested entirely on his shoulders... Now, at least, it was merely a burden to bear—not something that forced him to practice in constant fear.
Hiss.
Mr. Newman lowered his eyelids and took a drag from his cigarette.
He slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke... Under the bright living room lights, the swirling haze framed his deeply lined, solemn face.
"Disciple." He finally spoke.
"Yes, Master. Please go ahead." Andrew's eyes brightened.
"This matter is very important." Mr. Newman frowned, his voice serious. "Lucy is still too young. Strictly speaking, she shouldn't be attending kindergarten yet. But after careful thought, I believe children should interact more with the outside world."
"So, I'm giving you an important task."
"For now, stall your parents and keep Lucy at home. I've already ordered the construction of a completely safe kindergarten with no blind spots or hazards, and I've hired several renowned teachers with generous compensation."
His deep voice echoed through the living room.
The soft lighting cast a slow, deliberate air over Mr. Newman.
Beside him.
Andrew was left stunned, caught off guard. "Generous compensation?"
"Of course." Mr. Newman replied kindly, "I've spoken with these teachers, who truly possess educational virtue, several times. I've also finalized the management regulations."
Andrew scratched his head. "There are management regulations too? Master, you really go above and beyond."
It seemed...
His master had truly put immense thought into Lucy's affairs.
"Well, it's not much trouble."
"Actually, the regulations are simple—they're divided according to how unhappy Lucy gets." Mr. Newman sighed softly, his gaze growing ever more gentle.
He wanted to be a kind Grandpa Newman.
So in the regulations, he emphasized tolerance—only three or four capital offenses... though there are just ten rules in total.
"Uh..."
Andrew paused, assuming the regulations would be strict. He simply nodded. "That's fine, Master. But when Lucy does start kindergarten, please let me inspect it myself first."
"Of course." Mr. Newman nodded.
As his words faded, the living room returned to silence.
Only the ticking of the clock and the rustling leaves outside could be heard. Andrew stood by the sofa for a long while, just about to ask a question.
"Hmm?"
Mr. Newman turned his wrinkled face and glanced at Andrew. "Why are you still here?"
???
Andrew was speechless.
Wasn't he supposed to tell me about the sect? Did I guess wrong?
"Go on, then."