Chapter Twenty-One: The Dance of Dragons and Serpents

Cloud Lake Villa, District Three, Building Nine.

This was a three-story standalone villa. The first floor was devoid of any furniture; beside the main entrance, weapons of every kind were displayed, and in one corner, translucent glass partitions had created two separate rooms.

One room was filled with equipment for weight training. The other housed various apparatuses, including a target machine for testing punching power.

The entire first floor, over two hundred square meters, was nothing short of a training hall.

Gao Wu knew that Song Mingyue was a formidable martial artist, but to have such a vast training hall at home still struck him as somewhat peculiar.

Upon reflection, though, he found this perfectly fitting for Song Mingyue’s independent and unconventional character.

“My mother left me this house. I made a few modifications,” Song Mingyue said, handing Gao Wu a card. “This is the access card for my home. You can store its information on your phone. From now on, come here after school—we’ll eat and train together.”

“Uh, isn’t this too much trouble for you?” Gao Wu, though usually forthright and thick-skinned, felt that coming over to Song Mingyue’s house for meals was progressing a bit too quickly; he wasn’t quite used to it.

“No need to feel awkward. Not only did you save my life, but regarding the alien spirits, making you stronger is also helping myself,” Song Mingyue replied earnestly. “Until the alien spirits are dealt with, I’ll do my best to help you. It’s what you deserve.”

Gao Wu gave a nervous laugh—this girl was certainly straightforward!

Still, it was good to have things spoken plainly. He’d been worried about things getting too ambiguous, about feeling indebted. Now, there was no need for such concerns.

Before the alien spirits were resolved, he had a steady place to eat, earned through his own ability—not freeloading!

He nodded. “Understood. I’ll come every evening. If I can’t make it, I’ll let you know in advance.”

Song Mingyue nodded; she felt this was only right. This matter concerned both their futures—it was crucial, and needed to be set out clearly.

“I’ve already prepared a room for you, with training clothes and a bathroom,” Song Mingyue said, having made arrangements before seeking out Gao Wu. She led him to the second floor, stopping beside the stairs at a guest room. “Change your clothes first—I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

“Thank you.”

Gao Wu accepted without further politeness. Song Mingyue’s cool personality hid a meticulous mind; she’d thought of everything.

Ordinary clothes weren’t fit for high-intensity training; having a changing room was much more convenient. Gao Wu understood well that it was fine for him to train here, but not to stay overnight.

Perhaps Song Mingyue wouldn’t mind, but Aunt Lan surely would. If outsiders saw such things, it would be impossible to explain, and Song Mingyue’s reputation would suffer greatly.

Swiping the access card, Gao Wu took a tour of the room.

The guest room had a bedroom, living area, and bathroom, over thirty square meters. Inside the wardrobe were more than ten sets of black training clothes, disposable underwear, shoes, mouthguards, headbands, and other essentials—everything was in place.

There was no denying it: wealth made life easier. There was no need to worry about everyday expenses, which could vastly improve one’s quality of life.

The catastrophe four years ago had awakened his past-life wisdom and activated the Book of Boundless Merit. But his own home was gone, and he was finally adopted by the Shang family.

Old Master Shang and Shang Qingjun treated him very well, but with his awakened wisdom, Gao Wu was more mature and frugal.

Even so, supporting two students placed considerable strain on Old Master Shang, and life was still somewhat tight.

Seeing Song Mingyue’s comfortable circumstances, Gao Wu couldn’t help but feel a touch of envy and emotion.

But the truth remained: Song Mingyue’s issues weren’t ones that wealth could solve.

Gao Wu changed into black training clothes and shoes, finding the fit perfect—he couldn’t help but praise her; girls really did pay attention to detail.

Returning to the first floor, he found Song Mingyue already waiting.

She wore a headband, neatly tying her short hair so it wouldn’t obscure her vision. Her loose, soft gray-white training clothes highlighted her tall elegance.

Her cool, watery eyes lent her an air of lofty sharpness—a touch of ethereal grace, as if she were a wind-swept immortal.

“Honestly, you look quite striking…” Gao Wu felt a stir; Song Mingyue in this state looked truly beautiful, no longer the bedraggled, drenched figure from before. He was beginning to like her…

“We don’t really know each other yet. Let’s spar first, if you don’t mind?” Song Mingyue asked.

“Oh—” Gao Wu snapped out of his thoughts, cupped his fists, and said, “I don’t mind. Please.”

“I’ve been an advanced martial artist for two years now. Do your best,” Song Mingyue said softly.

“Incredible!”

Gao Wu had already noticed her resilient tendons and dense muscles, her weight mismatched to her frame—clear signs of an advanced martial artist.

But two years ago, Song Mingyue was only sixteen, still growing rapidly, yet already an advanced martial artist. That was truly extraordinary.

In a city as vast as Dongjiang, there couldn’t be more than a handful of people who reached advanced martial artist level by sixteen.

Two years had passed; Song Mingyue surely hadn’t remained stagnant. She was likely a top-tier martial artist now.

Knowing her background, Gao Wu grew more cautious. Even if it was only sparring, even if Song Mingyue was far stronger, he would strive to win.

What young man wasn’t competitive? Even middle-aged men, when faced with a beautiful woman, would try to prove themselves!

Gao Wu took up a defensive stance. Facing a martial artist of a higher level, his only chance was to rely on his powerful physique to wear down his opponent.

Song Mingyue advanced lightly, steps steady. When she was three steps away, she suddenly accelerated, her right palm slicing toward Gao Wu’s throat like a blade.

Her attack was simple, direct, yet astonishingly light and swift.

This shift in rhythm and speed unsettled Gao Wu; it was his first encounter with such a skilled martial artist. He had no time for tactics, crossing his arms to block her hand strike.

In his view, even if Song Mingyue was stronger, she couldn’t overpower both his arms with one hand.

Moreover, his diagonal cross defense was the most stable and suitable for countering force—it should easily stop her hand blade.

Yet what happened surprised him greatly. When Song Mingyue’s hand blade met his crossed arms, it rebounded sharply—the force vibrating through his arms left them numb, unable to exert strength.

Her palm blade followed through, and Gao Wu, sensing danger, inhaled and leaned back. The blade missed his throat by a scant inch.

Yet the sharp energy it stirred was like an invisible blade, tightening his throat.

Gao Wu felt a chill—this palm strike was so fierce and sharp it felt like a real blade. If it had landed, his throat would have been crushed, perhaps even his neck severed.

At that moment, Song Mingyue’s left leg, rebounding, landed squarely on his protruding abdomen.

With a loud thud, Gao Wu was kicked back three or four meters, pain so intense he felt as if his intestines had been snapped.

Fortunately, his physique was robust; despite the agony, he remained clear-headed, adjusting his posture mid-air and landing steadily on his feet.

Song Mingyue did not pursue.