Why can't Mom and Dad practice the Dragon-Elephant Technique? Why can my cousin get stronger just by cultivating Meat Slices? Why can't martial arts from this world work in another world? Maybe you've wondered about this, or maybe you've just shrugged and blamed it on "different worlds, different rules"—like there's some kind of dimensional wall keeping everything separate.
Jack Young used to think the same way. It seemed obvious, right? Worlds apart, and not just in where people live—the rules themselves are split, too.
But one day, Queen Yvonne (or as we like to call her, the family’s boss lady) stumbled on a pretty wild exception: Lady Simone.
To this day, nobody really gets how Lady Simone managed to hop over to Misty Peak. Other than the Chosen Ones, she might just be the only human known to travel between worlds.
Landing in a brand-new world with an internal martial arts system that looked familiar but was actually totally different, Lady Simone was as lost as a vegetarian at a barbecue. She brought the Dragon-Tiger Inner Alchemy Manual from Greenridge Mountain, thinking she had a treasure in hand, but honestly, she only half understood it. It was like staring at a gourmet feast and having no clue how to eat it—pure torture!
She had no choice but to ask Yvonne Yang for help. Yvonne, quick on her feet, borrowed some basic knowledge from a different martial arts universe to explain the Dragon-Tiger Inner Alchemy Manual. To everyone’s surprise, Lady Simone soon figured it out! She didn’t start formal cultivation, but when it came to theory, she’d already cracked the Jin Yong Martial Arts World’s code.
At the time, it didn’t seem like a big deal—life moved on, and Yvonne didn’t give it another thought. But a few days ago, Teacher Yang went memory-diving, sorting through old dreams and past events, and this little episode kept popping up for special attention.
The more Teacher Yang thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but get this weird idea: What if these two worlds were like two countries, and their rules were like different languages? If you don’t speak the language, there’s no way to communicate or understand each other.
But the Chosen Ones seem to be fluent in every world’s language, able to juggle all kinds of rules—like natural-born polyglots. Wouldn’t that make them the ultimate "rule translators"?
So, is it possible to translate martial arts from this world into another world?
Can you transcribe the genes of this world into the proteins of another? Or maybe reverse-transcribe the proteins from that world back into the genes of this one?
On the surface, it sounds totally pointless—a pure theory geek-out that’s not much use to anyone.
But what if you dig deeper into these "transcription" and "translation" phenomena—could you discover something profound? Maybe something that works across all worlds, never changing no matter the differences—a universal truth? And maybe that’s the real gap between Chosen Ones and regular folks.
Internal martial arts—power from within, insight before action. As an inheritor of internal martial arts, Jack Young has this almost instinctive urge to pull off such a feat. Even a single step forward (doesn’t need to be a giant leap) would mean he’s found his own unique path.
Not like Mr. Tang’s style—Jack wants something that’s his and his alone. His very own signature move.
As the sun set, the Mammoth Moving Crew set up camp, ready to march on tomorrow. The moon rose over the eastern hills, its silvery glow pouring down. The moon in Middle-earth is nothing like the one on Earth. Over there, it’s just a satellite, waxing and waning as it orbits. But here, the moon is always full, and it’s a powerhouse of magical energy.
The air shimmered, magic condensed, and endless moonlight pulled together into a single beam. In the next moment, moonlight spilled everywhere, like a moon goddess dropping by for a visit. A powerful presence crept out quietly, and it felt like another moon had popped up in the woods. Galadriel appeared out of thin air.
"Every time I see this, it blows my mind," Jack Young put down his book and looked at the Elf Queen. "Using the moon’s magic as a core, channeling the natural energies of the Elven Forest, and temporarily pulling together a virtual body to extend your will—this trick makes you practically omnipresent. Good thing my homeroom teacher never learned this, or us students would’ve had heart attacks every day."
Galadriel strolled over—well, as much as she could, since she didn’t actually have a body right now. What everyone saw was just a blob of magic carrying her spirit. Her image was just a projection in people’s minds, a kind of magical hallucination. If Jack wanted, he could block out the whole thing and just see a floating ball of glowing magic.
Honestly, her look was about as spooky as a will-o'-the-wisp.
Deep in focused discussion, Jack Young’s spiritual energy naturally started to flow. Outside the circle of his mind, a faint halo seemed to be forming, like something new was about to be born. For Jack, this kind of research and debate was the best way to level up his spirit.
Before he knew it, the moon was high and the stars were out in force. Jack looked up at the moon, spaced out, and suddenly thought of two important people. He wondered how Princess Embroidered Jade was doing these days, and what was up with Maggie Monroe. Especially Maggie—where would a Fated One like her end up? What’s she gotten herself into? Has she changed? When will she be back?
"Hey, silly Maggie, I miss you."
"I wonder if you’re missing me too."
While Jack Young was off in his own world, somewhere else on Earth—in Asia, China, on a regular old train—a goddess-like woman sat in the corridor of the sleeper car, resting her chin on her hand and gazing out the window.
Scenery whizzed by outside, but the woman’s eyes were unfocused, like she was lost in thought. Sometimes she’d smile a little; sometimes her face twisted in annoyance or anger. Clearly, she was thinking of someone who made her both happy and mad.
"Big Boss... Big Boss... Big Boss..." Just then, a sleepy muttering drifted from one of the nearby bunks. Normally, this would just get a couple of snickers from the other passengers—someone daydreaming out loud, no big deal. But today, people were giving the bunk a mix of sympathetic and annoyed looks, quietly edging away.
"Big Boss... Big Boss... I wanna be... Big Boss..." The guy kept repeating himself. At first, it was just mumbling, but after a few rounds, he started twitching like he was having a seizure. Arms flailing, legs thumping—he thrashed in his bunk, making the whole bed rattle.
He smacked his hand against the metal frame, banged his knees on the wall, but still didn’t wake up. Trapped in a nightmare, he just kept repeating the same word in a creepy voice, showing no sign of stopping.
This wasn’t the first time it had happened on this long train ride.
"That guy’s gotta be nuts!"
"Shh, keep it down. You just got on, right? He really might be nuts."
"Where’s his family? They should keep an eye on him! What if he hurts someone? No way, I’m calling the train cop to kick him off!"
"Hey, he’s had it rough. He went from Sichuan to Shanghai for work, hustled for years, finally started getting somewhere—then boom, the Shanghai Massacre. Barely made it out alive. Spent a month at the rehab center in Hangzhou, but just couldn’t stay there. All he wants is to go home. He’s usually fine, just a bit out of it. But he’s got this condition—falls asleep and starts repeating ‘Big Boss’ over and over."
"Oh, so he’s a Shanghai Massacre survivor. Poor guy."
Once the topic came up, more people joined in, and the train car filled with a chorus of whispers.
"I heard lots of folks have lasting problems from it!"
"A bunch of people went crazy!"
"Lots of suicides, too!"
"I’m never staying out again. I just wanna get home—lucky I snagged a ticket."
"Yeah, no matter how fancy the east coast is, it’s not worth your life. Who knows when the next terror attack’ll hit? I’m not sticking around. Anyway, my hometown’s so small and broke, even terrorists wouldn’t bother with it. Better to just chill in the countryside!"
In the middle of the chatter, someone pointed at the guy still having his episode: "Hey, do you think this 'Big Boss' and the other survivors could be carrying some freaky virus or something?"
Everyone glanced around, but nobody said anything more. Still, almost without thinking, they all scooted a little farther away.
The goddess-like woman watched it all and let out a quiet sigh.
There was nothing she could do to change it.
But there was one thing she could do.
And honestly, she was probably the only one in the world who could pull it off.
So her gaze grew sharper, more determined.
A day later, the long-distance train rolled into its final stop—Chengdu Station. The woman got off, blending in with the crowd, totally unnoticed. She was like a rare creature, part of the world but also apart from it. Not cut off, but somehow above it all, untouched by the dust.
She traveled all the way and finally got off at Tianxianqiao.
As the city lights flickered on, she walked into a bar. The place was dead—just a bartender polishing glasses to prove it was still open. The old days of crowds and noise? Long gone.
Well, not entirely. There was one customer in the corner, quietly sipping a fruit smoothie.
"Quentin Koon," she said, sitting down across from the guy. "I need two favors."
Quentin Koon shook his phone, set it on the table—probably blocking something—and after fiddling a while, wiped his forehead. "I’ve been taking a huge risk waiting here, just for today. But we’re short on time, so spill it. Let me hear what you’ve got in mind."
"Alright, I’ll get straight to it. First, I need the Sky Mending Diagram. Second," she said, firm and determined, "help me sever all earthly ties."