"Come with me to pay respects to the founding master."
Chen Ping's voice held no emotion, as if their conversation just now had been nothing more than casual dinner-table chatter.
Zhou Kai pushed down his thoughts and asked no more.
Click.
A sharp sound rang out as Chen Ping turned on the light.
The room was instantly flooded with light.
It was a little different from what Zhou Kai had imagined. The furnishings were simple: memorial scrolls, photographs, spirit tablets, an offering table, an incense burner, and kneeling cushions.
Chen Ping said nothing. He walked straight to the cushions, knelt on both knees, and bowed three times to the black-and-white photograph, his movements steady.
Then he rose, took three sticks of incense from the offering table, lit them over the candle flame, and placed them in the incense burner.
Standing behind him, Zhou Kai watched every movement clearly.
He kept quiet and followed suit, stepping forward to light a few sticks of incense in the burner.
Before long, the two of them had finished paying their respects to the founding master.
And the hidden truth of Red Star Martial Arts began to unfold before him from that moment on, like a scroll sealed away for ages.
"The decline of ancient martial arts wasn't entirely because they couldn't keep up with the times." After the ceremony, Chen Ping looked at Zhou Kai with greater warmth. He studied him as one of their own.
"More often, it was a deliberate choice."
He led Zhou Kai up to the rooftop. The night wind was icy, clearing their heads.
In the distance, the city lights glittered like a silent sea of stars.
"There's very little reliable information about ancient martial arts online, and what's there is a mess. For ordinary people, finding anything