In the cold, spacious training ground, only Andrew Han lay on the floor, with Miles Ning—his face deeply wrinkled and expressionless—standing nearby. Outside, the occasional laughter of students and the crisp chirping of birds drifted in.
"So dizzy... Why am I so dizzy?"
"What just happened...? The birds are singing, and I hear the sound of soccer on the field. Where am I?"
Andrew Han's consciousness gradually returned.
He forced his eyes open, and the first thing he saw was the shabby roof of the training ground.
......
Andrew Han's mind was foggy, and pain radiated through his body, especially his neck. He braced himself against the ground and sat up, facing the edge of the training area—where a solid wooden table stood.
To be precise, it was now a pile of shattered wood.
Hiss!
Andrew Han shuddered all over, feeling as if a ferocious beast was sitting right next to him. He slowly turned his head, one notch at a time, to look at Mr. Newman, who sat beside him.
"Andrew Han." Miles Ning sat in his chair, his wrinkled old face breaking into a smile as he tried his best to sound kind. "Since you're awake, let's continue our earlier conversation. Will you agree?"
Andrew Han hurriedly replied, "Yes, yes, I agree."
How could he not agree? The intense pain in his body was a constant reminder that this seemingly kind, white-haired elder in front of him could very well be a lunatic!
The most terrifying part was—
This guy was clearly insane, yet possessed unfathomable martial arts power!
Miles Ning's smile grew even warmer, like a friendly neighbor. But Andrew Han couldn't shake the feeling that the smile was forced, almost painfully so.
"Alright, just bow twice and formally acknowledge me as your Master."
Miles Ning forced himself to suppress his impatience, speaking gently.
He believed he ought to be a gentle and approachable Master, not so violent. He needed to be considerate of his disciples... Even though he'd never accepted a disciple before, and currently only had one.
Andrew Han frowned, "Bow?"