The courtyard still echoed with murmurs long after Sun Shi's battle with Yang had ended. Dust settled slowly, as if the ground itself refused to forget the brutal simplicity of Sun Shi's strike. Yang lay unconscious, lips bloodied, pride shattered. Students exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether they had witnessed luck, heresy… or true mastery.
Instructor Li, a man who prided himself on upholding the Ironroot Sect's martial lineage, clenched his fists as he stormed away. His boots cracked dry leaves beneath them as he ascended the winding stone stairs that led to the inner sanctum of the sect.
Inside the dimly-lit hall, the sect leader sat cross-legged, his back straight as a spear, meditating amid flickering incense smoke.
"Instructor Li," the Chief murmured, eyes still closed. "What disturbs your breath?"
Li dropped to one knee, his voice strained. "The new boy. Sun Shi. He—he defeated Yang with a single strike. It wasn't luck, Chief. It was clean. Controlled. It felt like… real martial arts."
The Chief's eyes opened slowly, sharp and searching. "Bring him to me."
Sun Shi followed Li through the long corridor, his steps unhurried. He barely glanced at the hand-carved wooden pillars or the faded tapestries lining the stone walls. Li cast him a sideways glare, but Sun Shi's expression remained unreadable.
When they entered the chamber, the Chief gave Sun Shi a long, silent look. He was older than he looked—his skin weathered, but his gaze intense and deliberate.
"So," the Chief said, "you demonstrated something that resembles the true Shaolin Kung Fu."
"I never claimed it was," Sun Shi replied coolly. "Maybe it just looks that way because it's done right."
The Chief chuckled softly. "Then let us see for ourselves. Show me what you know."
Without a word, Sun Shi stepped into the center of the hall. His posture adjusted—back relaxed, knees slightly bent, arms hanging like pendulums ready to move at will. And then he moved.
His palms struck through the air with a grace both terrifying and beautiful. Each movement flowed into the next with liquid precision, carrying the wisdom of countless styles: Tiger, Crane, Mantis—then blended into techniques no one in the sect had ever seen. He flipped midair, landed in a reverse stance, and held the final pose: palm forward, open and steady like a mountain against a storm.
A long silence followed.
The Chief stroked his beard. "This… this is not what we teach. Not even close."
"It's because what you teach is wrong," Sun Shi replied, tone flat.
The tension in the room snapped. Li stepped forward, livid.
"Who do you think you are?! You insult generations of sacred tradition with a few flashy moves?!"
Sun Shi turned to face him, unmoved. "No. I insult you because you teach with your pride, not your knowledge."
Gasps echoed around the room. Students at the back clenched their fists, their faces red with indignation.
"You brat!" one of them shouted. "How dare you insult our sect!"
Sun Shi scoffed. "You think you're offended now? Wait until your enemies laugh at how soft your stances are."
"Enough," the Chief said, voice firm.
The room silenced instantly.
"If," the Chief began slowly, "you can win the upcoming Sect Tournament, I will give you permission to train our disciples."
Sun Shi raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you think they deserve to learn from me?"
Murmurs returned like a wave. The disrespect was unbearable to many. Yet the Chief did not flinch.
Chief: "What must I do... for you to consider teaching us your Kung Fu?"
The room fell silent. Even the wind outside seemed to pause.
Instructor: "Chief, you can't be serious! This brat—he probably used Chi!"
Sun Shi raised a brow, amused. Chi? So they do have powers here... Interesting.
Chief: "With or without Chi, he still won. And we are running out of time. Our sect is dying."
Sun Shi crossed his arms, eyes steady. "Fine. I'll consider it—on one condition."
Chief: "Name it."
Sun Shi: "Let us eat meat."
Gasps echoed through the hall. The Instructor looked horrified. The Chief's face darkened with disappointment.
Chief: "...Why?"
Sun Shi: "It strengthens the body. If you want real martial arts, you'll need real strength."
"Malnourished warriors make poor students," Sun Shi added with a shrug. "And no warrior should live like a rabbit."
Li fumed. "Blasphemy! The Ironroot Sect has never—"
"Then maybe that's why the Ironroot Sect is nearly extinct," Sun Shi interrupted, his voice like steel.
The Chief exhaled, as though releasing a lifetime of weight. "So be it. If your teachings bring strength, I will allow it."
"And I won't just teach one form," Sun Shi added. "I'll introduce your disciples to techniques from the outside world. Arts that were tested in blood, not philosophy."
Now they were intrigued. Even Li, though skeptical, was silent.
Weeks later.
Sun Shi sat cross-legged among dozens of disciples. The courtyard buzzed with early morning energy as birds chirped and wind swept across the open training grounds.
"Today," Instructor Li declared, "you will begin your Chi cultivation. Focus. Empty your minds."
The students obeyed, closing their eyes and breathing deeply. A stillness fell.
Sun Shi copied them, folding his legs awkwardly and trying to clear his thoughts.
Alright… breathe in… breathe out… he thought. Now what?
Nothing.
He sat. Waited. Peeked. Nothing.
After the session, Sun Shi walked over to a senior disciple, a lean boy with serene eyes.
"Hey," Sun Shi whispered. "How do you feel the Chi?"
"You're supposed to start feeling it around age 8," the senior replied. "You're 12 right?"
Sun Shi scratched his cheek. "Heh… yeah. Late bloomer."
The senior smiled. "Don't worry. I'll help you. Sit with me."
They returned to the formation, this time alone under a tree. The senior sat like a statue. Sun Shi mimicked him.
Minutes passed. A breeze danced through the leaves.
And then—there it was.
A flicker. A pulse. Not within… but around.
Sun Shi's eyes widened. It wasn't like energy within muscles or breath—it was everywhere. In the air, the ground, the trees. A rhythm the world had always played but he had only now begun to hear.
"So this is… Chi," he whispered, grinning cheekily.
Beneath his navel, something small began to form—a faint orb, glowing faintly. The Chi pooled together, slow but steady.
And then something strange happened.
As it crystallized, the glow split in two—black and white, swirling together in perfect harmony. Opposites in balance.
Not red, not orange, not green like the others.
But Yin and Yang.