Consideration?

"Fischl, placing too much importance on grades will only alienate people."

Ma Yifan stared at Fischl with eyes as resentful as a neglected housewife:

"Don't you trust my judgment?"

"Besides, it wasn't him who pestered us to come; I was the one who invited him!"

"...Fine."

Ma Yifan held some weight in this small circle after all. Fischl clicked her tongue and, rather reluctantly, pulled her hand out of her thin leather glove.

Zhou Kai didn't take her previous words to heart and extended his hand.

Her fingers were cool, touching his palm like a dragonfly skimming the water before pulling away instantly.

The perfunctory tone in her voice faded slightly, replaced by a more formulaic politeness.

"Fischl Vitas."

"Zhou Kai."

Zhou Kai's gaze was calm, without a single ripple.

Before coming here, Ma Yifan had already leaked all the details to him.

To put it bluntly, this group of people was just a bunch of energetic rich kids.

Want to learn martial arts?

With their family wealth, they could easily hire champions from any competition to be their sparring partners.

But the problem was, they didn't want to suffer, and they certainly didn't want to be disciplined.

Among this group, aside from Ma Yifan, who genuinely liked martial arts, the others were purely in it for the novelty and fun.

Ask them to honestly apprentice under a stern, humorless uncle who would watch them hold horse stances all day?

They might as well go back to inheriting the family business.

Therefore, Zhou Kai's opportunity had arrived.

He was young, good-looking, and possessed solid skills.

He could serve as both a sparring partner and a playmate, perfectly meeting their needs.

Fischl Vitas's father was a local businessman of some renown, and she herself had been born and raised in Red Star.

Aside from that mixed-race face and a mouthful of a name, her words and actions were no different from any local.

The two people beside her—one was named Yuan Duo, whose family was in real estate.

The other was Feng Mingtai, whose family dealt in industrial manufacturing.

They were a few years younger than Ma Yifan, but they had been friends since they were toddlers.

Since Ma Yifan had spoken up, they naturally wouldn't refuse him.

Therefore, the only person in this group who truly needed to be won over was this woman named Fischl.

Zhou Kai didn't find it troublesome.

Theoretically, his current strength was more than enough to be a private instructor.

With real substance in his belly, his spine was naturally straight.

Fischl sized Zhou Kai up, but she began to mutter to herself.

This man was too calm, calm to an excessive degree.

Given her family background and appearance, which man hadn't been overly attentive to her, their eyes always hiding something else?

Yet Zhou Kai's gaze remained as focused as ever—calm, objective, and devoid of any unnecessary warmth.

This made her feel that he was quite decent, while simultaneously causing an inexplicable sense of loss.

The advantages she usually took pride in were worthless to him.

Her light blue eyes shifted, and she took the initiative to break the silence:

"Having Yifan vouch for you isn't enough."

"What kind of masters can we not afford to hire? So, if you want our money, you have to prove your worth first."

Zhou Kai spat out two words: "I'm cheap."

Fischl was stunned.

She had imagined countless types of responses, such as him bragging about his combat experience, claiming he just disdained competitions, or reciting some obscure theory of family martial arts.

The one thing she hadn't expected was for him to so bluntly admit that his core competitive advantage was... being inexpensive.

The clarity with which he defined his own position made her feel a bit amused, yet also slightly offended.

But Fischl held her ground; she swept a scrutinizing glance over Zhou Kai and continued:

"I said, money is not the issue."

"The issue is..."

"Whether you have the qualifications."

She beckoned toward a spot not far away.

"Old Yang, come over here and test his mettle."

No sooner had the words left her lips than a burly man in a black suit walked over.

He was no shorter than Zhou Kai, but his frame was a full circle thicker, like a moving wall.

"Understood, Miss."

Old Yang responded in a muffled, gravelly voice, then stood firm before Zhou Kai, radiating an aura that warned others to keep their distance.

Zhou Kai's gaze swept over his exceptionally thick neck, and he knew what he was dealing with.

This man was a veteran steeped in the arts of combat and striking.

Fischl's light blue eyes blinked as she introduced him with a playful tone: "Old Yang, a former professional Comprehensive Combat athlete in the eighty-kilogram class. He's held a gold belt."

"You need to be at least as strong as him, or somewhere close. If the gap is too wide, why wouldn't we just have Old Yang teach instead?"

As she finished, Old Yang puffed out his chest, clearly still proud of his past glories.

Once the topic turned to fighting, this man of few words seemed to loosen up, as if he'd had a few drinks.

He loosened his shoulders and wrists, which let out a series of soft pops: "Pardon my bluntness, but you're too thin. We aren't in the same weight class."

Zhou Kai looked at him earnestly, neither confirming nor denying the statement.

Senior Brother Chen Ping was thinner and shorter than him, yet his strength was like that of a prehistoric beast—utterly impossible to contend with.

Yes, even though his own strength had improved after the Nightmare Long Night, recalling Chen Ping's unfathomable power and technique still sent a tremor of insurmountable dread through him.

Weight, height, and these so-called weight classes were nothing but a joke in the face of a true powerhouse.

Zhou Kai nodded and said only one word: "Come."

Ma Yifan took a deep breath and said with careful consideration: "Let's move to the backyard. There isn't enough room to maneuver here."

"Is he going to be okay? Maybe we should talk him out of it; it won't look good if he actually gets hurt."

Yuan Duo was on the chubby side, his round face etched with skepticism. No matter how he looked at it, he felt the lean Zhou Kai would be knocked down in one punch.

Ma Yifan, however, shook his head with conviction: "No, you guys don't understand... he is fierce."

"I have enough of an eye for this. Old Yang is at best slightly better than Wang Jinquan from our gym, but Zhou Kai? He can toss Wang Jinquan around like a little chick!"

Feng Mingtai shrugged: "Is it really that exaggerated? Is Ancient Martial Arts really that divine?"

His eyes flickered as he stroked his chin, lost in thought.

"I heard my old man mention it before, saying that Ancient Martial Arts training requires a secret medicine that can boost one's strength several times over out of thin air... but apparently, it caused deaths later on and left several people paralyzed."

"Could it be that he's taken that stuff?"

Now it was Ma Yifan's turn to stammer.

Zhou Kai hadn't even officially entered the door of Ancient Martial Arts, had he?

As for the secret medicine...

He had heard of that too; only official disciples were qualified to receive it monthly, and it was said that it had to be taken long-term to see results.

Zhou Kai, in all likelihood, had never touched it.

"Maybe." Ma Yifan bit the bullet; he was choosing to believe regardless.

Once they reached the backyard, Zhou Kai discovered a massive swimming pool.

The pool had long been abandoned, its floor covered in a thick layer of dead leaves and dust.

The two were to spar on the neatly trimmed lawn beside the pool, which felt soft and springy underfoot.

"Let's keep it light; I'll pull my punches."

Old Yang gave a heads-up in advance, not intending to make things difficult for Zhou Kai.

"There's no protective gear, so I'll be careful to avoid your vitals."

Zhou Kai replied: "No problem, I'll be careful too."

Old Yang's eyes narrowed slightly at this.

He didn't think for a second that Zhou Kai could even touch him.

In the realm of combat and striking, the gap between a master and a novice was so vast that an outsider couldn't even imagine it.

He even felt that if he wanted to, he could shake the kid to the ground with just a few feints, let alone landing actual blows.

Old Yang assumed his stance, his footsteps steady as he moved side to side, exuding a sense of overwhelming pressure.

He watched as Zhou Kai adopted a defensive posture, preparing to counterattack from a defensive position.

Old Yang stopped wasting words, his feet suddenly exerting force as he lunged forward like a cannonball, a heavy, powerful cannon punch aimed straight at Zhou Kai's face.

By all logic, he should raise his arms to block, and this punch of mine will smash into his forearm.

I'll use a bit more force to let him know how high the sky is and how deep the earth, and maybe he'll just concede early.

"Strike!"

Old Yang let out a violent roar, his fist whistling through the air.

But the next instant, the confidence on his face froze, replaced by sheer astonishment.