In the days that followed, Xiongba retreated to the quiet of his personal quarters, the heavy wooden doors shut tight against the world. The members of the World Alliance barely noticed his absence. With the Mid-Autumn Festival's full moon night drawing near, they figured their leader was deep in preparation for his looming duel with the Sword Saint.
The news of this epic showdown had raced through the martial world like a gust of wind through dry leaves. Even the most celebrated martial artists had received invitations to witness the clash, their anticipation buzzing in the air.
But while everyone else assumed Xiongba was sharpening his skills, he alone knew the truth—he was healing in secret, nursing wounds that cut deeper than flesh.
That fateful night at the Divine Martial Hall had turned his world upside down, leaving his pride in tatters.
Xiongba had always viewed himself as a master among masters, a towering figure in the martial arts realm. Sure, someone might outmatch him, he'd thought, but any fight would be a fierce, even dance of skill. Yet the memory of that night clung to him like a shadow, dark and unrelenting.
A mysterious old man had stood before him, unshaken, absorbing three of Xiongba's most powerful palm strikes as if they were mere breezes. The depth of that skill wasn't just impressive—it was terrifying, a force that made Xiongba's heart pound whenever he replayed the scene in his mind.
That kind of power wasn't simply "strong." It defied understanding.
Then there was the young woman, barely in her twenties, her face still soft with youth. How could someone so young, even if she'd trained since infancy, surpass him? It seemed impossible.
Yet she had. With one swift, precise move, she'd snapped his arm, the crack of bone echoing in his ears even now.
Tucked away in his private training room, Xiongba worked in solitude. The faint scent of herbal ointments filled the air as he tended to his injured arm, wincing with each careful movement. At the same time, he pushed himself harder, sweat beading on his brow as he refined his techniques, desperate to reclaim his edge before the festival.
Once, he'd been certain he'd crush the Sword Saint without breaking a sweat. But after the humbling blows from Di Shitian and Luo Xian, that cocky confidence had crumbled. Now, he stood on firmer ground, his ego replaced by a quiet, steely resolve.
Meanwhile, Alex wasn't wasting time. Thanks to Di Shitian's meddling matchmaking, Luo Xian couldn't defy her master's wishes. Over the past few days, she and Alex had grown closer, their connection blossoming like wildflowers after rain. They'd spent hours together, laughing and talking, their bond strengthening with every step.
The two often slipped away from the World Alliance, wandering through sprawling landscapes—rolling hills dusted with golden light, or forests alive with the rustle of leaves. To anyone watching, they looked like a pair destined to be together, their ease with each other almost poetic.
But Alex hadn't let his training slide. Blending the raw physical moves from the One Piece world with the deep, steady power of the Yi Jin Jing, he'd surged forward in his skills, his body and mind sharper than ever.
Still, getting closer to Luo Xian—really close—was tricky. Whenever he reached for her hand or tried to pull her into a hug, she'd slip away like water through his fingers. The old customs of this world held firm, a wall between men and women that Alex couldn't quite breach. He still hadn't found the perfect chance to copy her simplified Sacred Heart Art.
Luckily, brief brushes of contact were enough. He'd already pinpointed the Sacred Heart Art file in her E drive—a sleek, compact 15G package, well within his ability to copy.
For Alex, the Yi Jin Jing had done its job, building his strength and steadying his mind. But now, it felt like an old tool, too basic for the challenges ahead. In the vast, chaotic world of Storm Riders, even a legend like Dongfang Bubai from The Smiling, Proud Wanderer would barely make a ripple.
Switching to the Sacred Heart Art was the obvious move.
For one, its life-stretching powers would slow the clutter of cache files piling up in his C drive, saving space over time. Second, even the simplified version outshone the Yi Jin Jing in complexity and depth. And finally, it offered intense ways to forge his spirit—like the Extreme Divine Tribulation from the Four Tribulations of the Sacred Heart, which unleashed the primordial spirit's raw force against enemies. That alone proved the Sacred Heart Art could shape the soul itself.
One crisp day, Alex and Luo Xian wandered into a tranquil valley. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth. Luo Xian's eyes danced with delight as she took in the scenery—jagged cliffs softened by patches of green, a stream murmuring in the distance. But whenever Alex edged closer, trying to clasp her hand or wrap an arm around her, she glided out of reach, leaving him grasping at air and still no closer to copying the Sacred Heart Art.
Do I have to pull the same stunt again? Alex wondered, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.
He'd snagged Magneto's genes by faking an injury, letting Magneto patch him up while he copied the data. Would he need to stage another fall?
Just then, a splash of color caught his eye—a vivid, nameless flower clinging to a nearby cliff, its petals glowing like a tiny flame against the gray stone. He tapped Luo Xian's shoulder, his voice light. "Xian'er, isn't that flower gorgeous?"
"It's breathtaking!" Luo Xian's face lit up, her love for flowers shining through as she gazed at the delicate bloom.
"Want me to grab it for you?" Alex asked, jumping at the chance.
"No, it's too risky…" Luo Xian shook her head, worry creasing her brow. She knew Alex's inner strength was modest at best. His flashy Shave technique worked wonders on flat ground, but a steep cliff was another story.
"It's no trouble. For you, I'd do anything," Alex said, his eyes locking onto hers with a warm, earnest glow.
The line was cheesy enough to make him cringe inside, but it worked. Luo Xian's expression softened, a flicker of emotion stirring in her gaze.
Without waiting for more protests, Alex bolted toward the cliff. He scrambled up the rocky face, his movements deliberate and strained, the rough stone scraping against his hands.
To anyone watching, it looked dangerous—his inner strength too weak to make it easy. But beneath his loose tunic, hidden chain mail hugged his frame, ensuring he'd land safely no matter what.
"Ah!" With a sharp yelp, Alex snatched the flower, but on his way down, he staged a slip, tumbling to the ground in a heap.
"Mr. Alex, are you okay?" Luo Xian darted to his side, her voice tight with concern as she knelt beside him.
Even if their bond had been nudged along by Di Shitian, seeing someone risk a fall for her sake struck a chord. Her hands hovered near him, unsure but caring.
"I'm fine—just banged up my leg. But I got the flower for you…" Alex held up the bloom, its petals slightly crumpled, as sweat glistened on his forehead from the "pain."
"You… why are you so reckless?" Luo Xian murmured, her tone soft as she stared at the flower, then back at him.
"As long as it makes you smile," Alex replied, his voice steady and sincere, locking eyes with her.
He knew the trick had landed perfectly.
"By the way, I've got some business back at the alliance. Xian'er, could you help me get there?" he asked, keeping his tone casual while her guard was still down.
Luo Xian nodded without hesitation, slipping an arm around him to steady his "limping" form. Together, they started the slow trek back to the Divine Martial Hall.
Ding! Removable storage device detected.
Routines always win hearts… Alex thought, a smirk tugging at his mind as he watched Luo Xian's focused care.
Days of chasing her hand had gotten him nowhere. But one staged tumble for a flower? That did the trick.
With Luo Xian's support, Alex hobbled along, leaning into the act. At the same time, he slipped into her E drive, copied the simplified Sacred Heart Art, and pasted it into his own.