025 - Taekwondo

A top-of-the-line Maserati sped down the highway, its engine roaring at full throttle. Lu Yichen pressed his thin lips together, indifferent now to the sensation of speed, pushing the car to its limits. The wind howled past his ears, tossing his short hair. He was not accustomed to confiding in others. So— He chose to head straight for the taekwondo dojo.

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Liwei Taekwondo Dojo

Wang Qianqin, the private taekwondo coach, was thoroughly startled by Lu Yichen's intensity. The fifteen-year-old had arrived at noon, changed into his practice gear, and, without uttering a single word, had been relentlessly striking the punching bag with every kick he knew. Front kicks, side kicks, back kicks, hook kicks, spinning kicks, push kicks, roundhouse kicks, jump kicks, double kicks—an endless array that dazzled the eye. For someone so young, his stamina was astonishing! Five hours had passed, and he had not paused for even a minute. In all his years as a coach, Wang could not recall seeing a student practice with such reckless abandon.

He had no choice but to walk over and address the boy, standing beside him. “Lu Yichen, don’t push yourself too hard. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither is mastery in martial arts. Besides, you’re already progressing incredibly fast.”

Lu Yichen launched into a spinning back kick, slamming into the bag, ignoring the coach’s words completely.

“Lu Yichen—” Wang Qianqin placed a hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly, Lu Yichen spun around and lashed out with a front kick, shaking off the coach’s hand and even launching an attack at him. He loathed physical contact with others—unclean!

Caught off guard, Wang Qianqin instinctively countered, but the boy’s kick still landed on his thigh, forcing him to stagger back several steps before regaining his footing. The pride of a martial artist flared up at once. In the world of martial arts, there is no distinction of rank or status—only skill matters.

Neither said a word. As though by unspoken agreement, both assumed ready stances, prepared to fight.

Lu Yichen’s eyes, naturally dark and bright, now gleamed with a razor-sharp, icy light. Though his rank in taekwondo was not high, he had never known fear. All he wanted now was a fight—nothing more.

He charged forward, striking with ferocity.

Wang Qianqin, mindful that Lu Yichen was the young master of the Lu family and he himself only a private coach, had intended merely to defend. But the boy’s wild aggression stoked a fierce response in him as well. In terms of skill, Wang still held the advantage.

Lu Yichen, now at a disadvantage, seemed not to care in the slightest, attacking as if to vent all his turmoil and emptiness. He fought like one who knew neither fatigue nor pain, charging forward again and again, being thrown to the ground each time, only to rise and continue.