The Martial Arts Hall on the 26th floor was not listed in Heaven's Arena's regular directory. Without special administrative authorization, even the elevator button for that floor could not be lit. Ryan stood before the cold metal doors and handed the management terminal the temporary access slip he had received the day before—there was no signature or official seal on it, only two handwritten lines: "West side of the 26th floor, Martial Arts Hall," and "Please arrive on time."
The doors opened at once, the silence making it seem as though some ceremony that should not be disturbed was about to begin.
The moment he entered the Martial Arts Hall, the temperature was slightly lower than in the rest of the tower. The walls were made entirely of composite silicon material with soundproof coating, and footsteps made no noise. Far-infrared motion trackers and recording spheres were installed in all four corners, while the center held an extremely simple gray combat mat with no boundary lines or barriers—this was not a place for competition, but for training.
Wing was already there.
He stood straight, dressed in an immaculately washed light-gray shirt and dark blue trousers. His shoulders remained still, his breathing steady. He was not looking toward the door, but Ryan knew he had noticed his arrival long ago.
"You arrived three minutes earlier than I expected," Wing said in his usual tone, as if commenting on the weather.
Ryan did not reply. He calmly walked to a spot three meters across from him, took off his hat, and folded his coat over the back of a chair in the corner. Every movement was meticulous, yet none of it seemed affected.
"Can you tell me why you accepted the invitation?" Wing asked.
Ryan paused briefly before answering. "I need to verify my understanding and determine whether I am qualified to keep moving forward."
Wing nodded. "Not to become stronger?"
"Becoming stronger is only the result, not the purpose."
For the first time, Wing gave him a serious look. It was not one of praise, but the rational judgment of a teacher assessing whether someone was worth continuing to spend time on.
"I do not take disciples," Wing said flatly.
"I am not asking to become one."
Wing said no more. He merely tilted his head slightly and waved toward the edge of the room.
Zushi stepped out.
The boy was around ten years old. His face was still youthful and his build small, but his shoulders and back already maintained good posture. He wore a clean training uniform, his belt tightly fastened. His footsteps made no sound, and his eyes held both caution and a faint unwillingness to yield.
"This is my student, Zushi," Wing introduced him briefly. "He has not yet learned Nen. He has only mastered some basic physical techniques. You will conduct an assessment with him."
Ryan said nothing, only nodded.
Zushi, however, hesitated slightly, as though he instinctively disliked the arrangement.
"Teacher, why me?" he asked quietly.
Wing looked at him, his voice steady. "You want to know the gap between yourself and someone with genuine Nen potential. Then someone must show you where that boundary lies."
Zushi clenched his teeth, nodded, and walked into the center of the room.
The two took their positions, one on the left and one on the right, three meters apart.
Wing neither announced the start nor signaled for a referee. He simply stepped back to the edge of the room—this had never been a formal match, but an observational exercise meant to expose motivation.
Zushi moved first.
His footwork was standard, his attacks clear. After cutting in with an angled sidestep, his upper-body strike sequence flowed with remarkable continuity. He had clearly undergone long, careful training and instruction. But he was too impatient.
Ryan noticed it immediately.
Rather than attack, he stepped back, lowered his left shoulder slightly, and baited Zushi into throwing a punch with his center of gravity tilted too far forward.
Sure enough, Zushi's feet moved slightly faster than his fist. His right shoulder tensed too early, and Ryan saw through him. He quickly tucked his body and retreated diagonally, pivoting underfoot before instantly closing in beneath Zushi's ribs.
He did not use force. He merely pressed an exceedingly light palm strike against Zushi's waist, and the boy's entire center of gravity tipped forward, making him stumble half a step.
Ryan seized his shoulder and lightly pressed his back with his right hand, smoothly guiding him into a kneeling position.
The entire exchange took no more than seven seconds.
Zushi's eyes widened. He was clearly shocked at how he had lost control in an instant.
Wing's expression did not change. He only said calmly, "Failed judgment of center of gravity. Pulled back force through the soles too early. Elbow joint was not closed. Remember that."
Zushi nodded, silently got up, and retreated to the side.
Wing looked at Ryan. "How would you assess that exchange?"
Ryan said evenly, "His training is solid, but he has not yet learned to use his mind to protect himself."
The corner of Wing's mouth lifted slightly, as though satisfied, yet also faintly expectant.
"Then... next is your turn."
He slowly drew out a rounded glass cup from his side. It was filled with clear water, with a clean leaf floating on the surface.
Ryan understood.
Water Divination—the Nen Ability affinity test—was about to begin.
Wing placed the glass steadily in Ryan's palm, his movements meticulous, as though he were not facing an ordinary trainee but an unpolished ore vein that required cautious handling and detailed exploration.
"Stand steadily. Let your fingers spread naturally. Settle your breathing," Wing said in a low voice that allowed no doubt.
Ryan did as instructed. He held the cup palm-up, his five fingers slightly spread. He adjusted his breathing into its most natural abdominal rhythm, and his heartbeat gradually slowed along with it. His gaze lowered slightly, his attention focused on that small cup of water in his hand.
The surface remained still, the leaf resting quietly upon it. Even the air seemed to freeze.
"Imagine there is a current of energy inside you," Wing said from a short distance away, his voice seeming to enter Ryan's mind directly. "It is not the air in your lungs, nor is it blood. It is... the warmth and momentum you can sense by concentrating."
"Do not force it. If it exists, it will naturally flow out."
Ryan did not rush to exert himself. He knew this was not an explosive exercise, but a process of coordinating concentration and the body with inner energy. He began to draw a map in his mind: from all over his body to every pore, then along his arms into his palms. Not in a linear pattern, but like underground water channels, naturally unfolding according to his body's microcirculation and muscle tension.
Gradually, he felt a faint numb swelling travel slowly along his arm, like the warmth of early winter sunlight falling upon stone slabs—not hot, but unmistakable.
Zushi watched from the side, somewhat stunned. He had trained diligently for half a year and still had not sensed the existence of "energy," yet this man had begun entering the state on his very first attempt.
Wing's expression remained unchanged, but the gaze behind his glasses had narrowed slightly.
One minute passed.
The water's surface suddenly trembled faintly.
It was not the wind, nor was it Ryan's hand shaking. The leaf did not move, but the waterline had dropped by roughly one millimeter from its original position.
Wing bent down for a closer look, then slowly nodded. "A trace of impurities has appeared in the water. The leaf has not spun, and the color has not changed."
"Conjuration."
Ryan opened his eyes, neither pleased nor disappointed. He merely engraved this information into the logic of his next stage of thought.
Wing put away the cup and wiped it clean. "It is rare for someone without formal guidance to possess such a clear sense of Nen and such path planning. Most people like that belong to Manipulation or Conjuration."
"Do you know that the key for a Conjurer lies not in 'Emission,' but in 'construction'?"
Ryan nodded. "It requires modeling. The target structure must exist in one's understanding. It cannot be triggered freely on instinct."
Wing's eyes shifted slightly. "You are more clear-headed than most adult students I have met."
Zushi listened from the side, his brow furrowing before he lowered his head again.
Wing did not teach any Nen Ability techniques on the spot. Instead, he took a sheet of white paper from his pocket and unfolded it before Ryan.
It contained three sections:
The first described the duration of Ren and how to coordinate it with breathing;
The second described an initial method for attempting Shu—using consciousness to cover the aura field and maintain its flow rate;
The third offered introductory advice on "Nen structure perception"—only three lines: "Do not attempt to conjure an object before internal stability is complete. A Nen construct formed before an attack will fail to take shape."
"I will not teach you Hatsu, nor will I teach you creation. You are a Conjurer. The ability itself can only be conceived by you."
Wing folded the paper again. "That does not mean you are suited to this path. Conjurers are the type most likely to lose themselves—they excel at construction, and they also excel at deceiving themselves."
"Remember: your Nen is your projection of the world."
Ryan solemnly accepted the paper, folded it, and placed it in the innermost layer of his notebook folder. It fit perfectly over the page bearing his own words: "The final verification before entering the system."
"You may leave now," Wing said. "If you stay any longer, you will only start to believe that you have already entered the field."
"And you are still far from it."
Ryan did not say another word. He bowed deeply, turned, and left.
Zushi watched his departing figure, and for the first time, a complicated expression appeared in his eyes—the look of someone surprised and faintly unconvinced, yet forced to acknowledge the truth.
Wing had already turned away and no longer looked at him. He walked to the wall on the other side and pinned a blank notebook page to the whiteboard.
A few words were written on it:
"Conjuration · proactive modeler before Shu. No teaching responsibility."
It was a note, and also a boundary.
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