Chapter One: This World
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The starlight scattered through the heavy mist and clouds.
In a silent urban alleyway, trash lay scattered everywhere. Stray cats and dogs prowled and barked sporadically, vying for territory.
Suddenly, a patrol car roared past, its piercing siren shattering the stillness.
“Hurry, don’t let him escape!”
“The suspect is suspected to be a martial artist. Everyone, be cautious. Shoot if necessary.”
A group of officers armed with guns sprinted swiftly into the dark alley.
...
Zhao Rui carried an old travel bag on his back, gloomily kicking a crushed can blocking his path. The clang startled the cats and dogs hiding in the shadows.
“Lost again. Talent really is such a frustrating thing!”
Zhao Rui muttered to himself in gloom.
At that moment, a gust of wind swept from behind him. A shadow darted forward, a palm slicing toward his neck like a blade.
Zhao Rui furrowed his brows slightly and tilted his head just a fraction. Then, with a twist of his left elbow, he caught the incoming palm strike with one hand.
The shadow’s eyes widened in shock, but before he could react, his body flew backward like a torn sack, crashing heavily against a trash bin.
The shadow’s vision darkened, and he fainted instantly.
“My mood was already bad enough. Are you looking for trouble?”
“Though I can’t beat them, I’m not some weakling either! Damn it!”
Zhao Rui spat, shaking his head with a self-mocking smile. Without pausing, he disappeared into the alley’s shadows.
Just as his figure vanished, five or six armed officers arrived at the alley entrance, too late.
“Captain, that man just now...!”
“He’s probably a professional martial artist. Ignore him for now. Check on the suspect—if he’s alive, cuff him and take him away. Remember to install the suppressor device in advance!”
“Yes, Captain!”
A moment later:
“Captain, the suspect’s ribs are broken, but he’s alive!”
“Take him away.”
The group hurriedly arrived and left with the suspect, not even breaking a sweat.
...
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Name: Zhao Rui
Height: 182 cm
Copyable Martial Art: Butterfly Hand (Copy? Yes/No)
Copy Progress: 0/10
Available Advancement Points: 0
...
What is this?
Zhao Rui’s expression froze as he stared in surprise at the transparent digital panel that suddenly appeared in his mind.
Could this be the system panel that every transmigrator must have?
Zhao Rui had awakened memories from his previous life—or rather, from another dimension—just three days ago.
On the surface, this world bore little difference from a certain stage of Earth’s society in his past life: skyscrapers lining the cities, vehicles streaming endlessly, lush greenery in the countryside.
Even the historical progression and technological development were remarkably similar.
People busied themselves daily for a living, bustling through the world.
Yet all of this was merely superficial.
As a martial artist himself, Zhao Rui knew this world and his past life were not entirely the same. The biggest difference was that martial arts existed here.
Martial arts, or the Way of the Warrior, resembled the descriptions in the wuxia novels of his previous life: with deep cultivation, practitioners could unleash palm strikes that sliced through the air, leap several meters high, and wield internal energy that rendered ordinary weapons ineffective, striking unseen and unheard.
Of course, this was based solely on what Zhao Rui had witnessed. As for the tales online about flying through the skies or disappearing underground, truth and fiction were hard to distinguish.
In any case, he had never seen such an ultra-powerful professional martial artist.
Martial arts had become secularized in this world; everyone knew of the Way of the Warrior.
But not everyone could succeed.
Ordinary people without talent or the ability to generate internal energy could only practice the forms superficially, strengthening their bodies but not their internal energy.
This life, Zhao Rui was of the middling type.
Though his talent wasn’t high, he still possessed martial aptitude; his roots were far from ordinary, not comparable to those who would never rise above mediocrity.
But compared to top-tier prodigies, his comprehension and spiritual sensitivity were lacking.
No matter how hard one worked, the slow bird might fly first, but there was always something missing compared to the best.
In his previous life, he had trained diligently for ten years, barely becoming a professional martial artist, preparing to leverage his skills to enter university.
Martial artists in this world were divided into professional and non-professional.
Professional martial artists, as the name implies, were officially registered personnel devoted to martial innovation, combat, and fighting.
They were widely distributed across security forces, professional competitions, and security departments of various official agencies and enterprises.
In essence, they weren’t so different from combat athletes in his past life—just with higher personal combat power and the ability to scale walls and leap across rooftops.
The other kind were non-professional martial artists, unregistered and operating outside official channels.
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Such individuals were the most numerous, operating openly or covertly—working for private militias, gangs, running their own martial arts schools, or participating in civilian contests.
Due to their overwhelming combat power, these unregistered martial artists were hard to control, causing social chaos far beyond what he had seen before.
It was somewhat reminiscent of the chaotic urban kung fu eras of his past life or the turbulent Republic era: guns, martial arts, violence, murder, drug trafficking, gang wars, vendettas—a whirlwind of disorder.
The stark contrast between the orderly public facade and the clandestine clashes of blades and swords was striking.
Still, Zhao Rui was just an eighteen-year-old student this life, with limited firsthand experience, mostly relying on news media and those around him to learn.
Today, he had just competed in the district martial arts association’s friendly tournament.
Unfortunately, he was knocked out in the top 100.
“Damn it, this talent is as useless as in my past life!”
In his previous life, Zhao Rui had been a provincial-level professional table tennis player, but limited skill kept him from breaking through, relegated to sparring partner for seed players.
He had been stuck there for years.
Who doesn’t have pride? Who doesn’t want to shine in the spotlight, to dominate the world?
But on the battlefield, sometimes talent cannot be compensated for by hard work.
“Hey, handsome, come play! You’re so good-looking, just two hundred!”
Just as he was ruminating over the panel in his mind, a seductive long-haired woman appeared at the street corner, leaning against a wall. She winked flirtatiously and spoke with a teasing tone.
Zhao Rui looked toward her, surprised by her beauty.
Her delicate features were like a jade carving, her figure voluptuous and graceful. Her exposed skin was smooth and flawless—just looking at it, one could tell it was silky to the touch.
Beneath her ultra-short skirt, her legs were straight and slender, lines both sexy and soft, captivating at a glance.
Martial artists had sharp eyes, and hers were definitely piercing.
What a shame—such a beautiful woman was a prostitute.
Zhao Rui shook his head with a sigh. Two hundred? He didn’t even have that.
“Sis, I’m still a virgin. I heard that losing your virginity costs money!”
At his words, the woman’s expression faltered briefly, then a charming smile curved her lips.
“So, how much do you think you should pay?”
“Twenty thousand! Anything less and I won’t cooperate!”
Zhao Rui shamelessly declared.
The woman was clearly angered by his words.
With her looks, and now he wanted her to pay him? It was utterly outrageous!