A Month Later…
Xiao Yueli leaned against the balcony railing of her apartment, her gaze distant. Thoughts of Han Xing drifted through her mind like a restless wind. Even in the quiet of the city at night, she could feel his presence—something unspoken, unshakable.
Meanwhile, in the training clearing behind the compound, Han Xing closed his eyes. The hum of the city faded, replaced by the subtle rustle of leaves and the distant whir of a drone patrolling the perimeter.
He began practicing his new martial art: Dance of Destruction.
Han Xing moved with precision, starting with the Ananda Spiral Form—circling lightly, arms sweeping in wide arcs. Each motion carried rhythm, graceful but restrained, more memory than force.
He shifted into the Rudra Wrath Form. His stomps struck the ground with growing force, reverberating faintly. Tension coiled in his shoulders like electricity, hinting at the destruction he could unleash—but for now, it was only motion, not devastation.
The Twilight Flow Form followed, linking one stance to the next with smooth continuity. Less combat, more meditation—a balance between raw power and control.
Then came the Tripura Crush Form. His heels struck deliberately, dust rising slightly, leaving a faint impression of strength. Arms swung with intent, each strike measured and controlled.
Grace Veil Form flowed next. Palms wove delicate patterns through the air, light and subtle, almost like performance art—illusion without an opponent to deceive.
At last, the Cosmic Spiral Form opened. Arms stretched outward, steps widening. The clearing seemed to breathe with him, if only fleetingly. The power of creation and destruction shimmered faintly around his silhouette—almost imperceptible, yet undeniably there.
When the dance ended, Han Xing remained still, breathing softly. Rhythm. Control. The faint outline of true power—yet it was incomplete. His fists clenched tightly. Failure weighed on him. I fell… once again.
A faint shiver ran through the dust at his feet—so slight it might have been the wind. He didn't notice, but the world had answered, if only briefly.
Before he could reflect further, a voice broke the quiet:
"Han Xing."
He opened his eyes to see Commander Ling standing at the edge of the clearing, arms folded, eyes sharp. The modern uniform contrasted with the archaic sense of authority he carried. His gaze lingered on Han's movements.
"You've… where did you discover this Dance art?" Commander Ling asked, calm but layered with weight.
Han paused, weighing his words. I can't tell him it came from my family archive… can I? "I… accidentally found it in the martial hall," he replied finally.
Ling's expression softened. "If you don't want to tell the truth, that's fine. Everyone has their own secrets."
Han said nothing.
The commander's tone shifted, becoming heavier. "But listen carefully, Han. That technique is not meant to be practiced lightly. It should only be used as a last resort."
Han nodded, absorbing the weight of the words.
"The Dance balances the laws of destruction and creation—two of the most powerful laws besides time and chaos," Commander Ling continued. "This technique is precious. Without the strength to protect it, using it will make you a target to all who know its true worth."
"Understood, sir," Han said quietly.
Ling gave a small nod. "Good. Now, finish your dinner. Tomorrow, you prepare for your mission."
Han looked at the fading sunlight over the city skyline, a mix of determination and doubt stirring in him. The Dance had begun—yet to truly master it, he would have to give everything he had.
The Following Day
Han Xing sat in the back of a sleek black car, the city skyline blurring past the windows. Commander Ling drove, his expression unreadable, the hum of the engine filling the quiet.
"Han," Commander Ling began, his voice calm but firm, "here are your mission details."
Han leaned forward, impatient. "What is the mission about?"
Commander Ling raised an eyebrow. "Very impatient, aren't you?"
"Your mission is simple in words, but not in practice. You are to serve as the bodyguard of a certain individual—day and night, no exceptions."
Han frowned. "Isn't that the kind of job a Golden Core Master or someone from the Nascent Soul Realm would handle?"
Ling's gaze was steady. "We need someone who can protect her 24/7, someone who can accompany her even on missions assigned by the Academy—and she cannot know that you are her bodyguard."
Han's frown deepened. "What do you mean by Academy missions?"
"She is studying at the Imperial Academy," Ling explained. "We need someone strong enough to protect her secret. And you have all the qualities we need."
Han's mind raced. If I go to the Academy, people might recognize me. And there are too many rules… too many restrictions.
"Commander," he said cautiously, "I can't back out of this mission, but I need to find a way to avoid doing it."
Ling's eyes flicked to him. "Captain Lu recommended you. I believe you alone can handle this task. And who said that person has only one bodyguard? But if you want to back out now… there is only one way."
Han's stomach tightened. "There… is a way to back out?"
Ling's tone was grim. "Yes. Death awaits you."
Han's eyes widened. At least I'll be a teacher, right? "So… at least I get to be a teacher?"
"No," Commander Ling replied bluntly. "You'll be a student."
Han froze. "Why a student?" If I had known, I would never have taken this mission.
"You don't have to hide from it," Ling continued. "From what I know, you haven't yet studied at the Academy. Now is your chance. It will only take that person two years to finish the course, and you will stay by her side the whole time. At the Academy, there will be plenty of resources for you—unlike in the military, where resources are limited. With your abilities, acquiring the right resources will be easy. It will help you grow faster. It's a win-win."
Han exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the task ahead. A student for two years, bodyguard to someone unknown, constantly watching for those with ill intentions—and someone might even discover his identity. The mission was simple in instruction, yet infinitely complex in reality.
He looked out the window, the city rushing by, and muttered under his breath, "Two years… I hope I can survive this."