The black luxury car rolled to a stop in front of J High, its engine humming like a restrained beast. Students walking through the gate turned immediately; the vehicle didn't belong in their world. Not even Zack Lee's sports bike got this kind of reaction.
The car door opened.
A foot stepped out—clean, polished shoes.
Then long purple hair flowed into view.
Golden eyes that seemed to glow in daylight.
Dragon tattoos snaking faintly along his neck.
Cheon Ming.
Whispers exploded instantly.
"Who is that?"
"Is he a celebrity?"
"His hair—bro, is that even allowed?"
"Wait, is he mixed? Look at those eyes…"
The girls stared openly, cheeks red.
The boys felt their chests tighten instinctively, sensing danger.
Ming didn't look at anyone.
He simply walked toward the school gates, each step slow, relaxed, controlled — movement that martial artists instantly recognized even if they didn't know why.
The Book of Knowledge murmured in his mind.
> Location confirmed: J High.
Potential combatants detected in vicinity: Zack Lee (C+ Rank), Basil (D+ Rank), Daniel Park (Potential A Rank)… observing.
Ming smirked.
"So this is the stage."
A teacher rushed forward, flustered. "S–sir! This is a public school, not—"
Ming handed her a pristine envelope.
"Transfer approval," he said calmly.
She opened it — official seals, perfect documentation, impossible to deny.
"W-well… welcome to J High, Mr. Cheon."
Ming nodded once and entered the courtyard.
Students instinctively stepped aside.
Not because they recognized him.
But because predators could sense another predator.
Across the yard, Daniel Park — in his slimmer body — was taking a breath after another morning of being pushed around. He looked up when the murmurs grew.
His eyes widened.
"Who… is that guy?"
At the same moment, Zack Lee turned, eyebrow twitching as he studied Ming's posture. Years of training told Zack one thing instantly:
That guy was strong.
Too strong.
"Yo," Zack muttered, approaching with casual steps that hid tension. "New kid?"
Ming glanced at him, expression calm.
"Move."
The single word hit harder than a punch. Zack's jaw clenched — no one talked to him like that — but instinct told him charging in would be pointless.
Before Zack could respond, another voice cut through.
"Dude! His aura is crazy!" Basil whispered behind him. "He looks like a final boss character!"
Ming ignored them both and continued walking… until a group of three second-years blocked the hallway intentionally.
"So the pretty boy thinks he's hot stuff?" the tallest sneered. "This isn't a fashion show. You want respect here, you earn it."
The crowd stirred.
Zack frowned. He wasn't going to help, but he also didn't like amateurs acting tough.
Ming stopped.
Tilted his head slightly.
"You're in my way."
The tall delinquent shoved Ming's shoulder.
A mistake.
The moment his hand touched Ming, something ancient stirred—his dragon tattoos pulsing faintly under his skin.
"Bad decision," Ming whispered.
The fight erupted instantly.
The first punch came from the delinquent, wild and heavy. Ming slid a foot back—not retreating, but repositioning. His palm cut an arc through the air.
PAB!
A perfect Wing Chun deflection.
The boy's fist was redirected sideways.
Ming stepped in.
ELBOW STRIKE.
The boy's nose burst.
He collapsed immediately.
The second swung a kick; Ming rotated his hips.
DRAGON TAIL SWEEP.
The boy's legs left the ground. He crashed flat on his back.
The third froze.
Ming grabbed his collar lightly — like holding trash with two fingers.
"You lot don't understand your place."
He tossed him aside effortlessly.
Silence filled the courtyard.
Daniel stared.
Zack's eyes narrowed.
Jay Sung, from a distance, paused mid-step for the first time that morning.
Cheon Ming dusted his hands.
"J High," he said quietly, "show me something worth my time."
And he walked toward his classroom.