A dozen or so minutes later.
Hu Qi arrived at his destination.
It was an intersection with a lot of foot traffic.
Red Scale Fighting Club.
The sign featured flamboyant, red script on a black background.
Hu Qi parked his car and, as he approached, saw a huge, colorful recruitment ad posted on a nearby wall.
He glanced at it and saw phrases like "Summer Vacation," "Huge Discounts," "Fighting," "Body Strengthening," and "Sign up together, the second person is half price!"
At the main entrance, students in twos and threes occasionally walked past him. They had their arms slung over each other's shoulders, talking and laughing as they went inside. They all wore black Martial Arts Uniforms with a red scale pattern embroidered on the back.
Hu Qi paused at the entrance for a moment before walking straight inside.
The moment he stepped inside, a blast of cool air washed over him.
The scorching heat was instantly left behind, the cool air feeling like soft silk brushing against his skin, making his pores open in relief.
Inside the lobby, the central air conditioner overhead was blasting out cold, white vapor.
The lobby was spacious. To the left, a glass display case held gold medals, group photos, and various competition certificates.
On the wall to the right was a large illustration of a fighter with bulging muscles, a broad back, a narrow waist, and a red mask.
The image alone radiated a fierce aura.
Hu Qi gave it a passing glance before walking straight to the counter.
"Welcome, sir. Is there anything I can help you with?"
Behind the front desk, a round-faced young woman in her twenties sat with her head down, fiddling with something. She had a high ponytail and wore black-framed glasses.
Hearing him approach, she looked up and saw Hu Qi.
She immediately put on a professional smile and inquired.
Her friendly smile, combined with her cute, slightly chubby cheeks, easily made a good impression.
Hu Qi explained why he was there.
The round-faced woman was clearly experienced in these situations and immediately recommended several packages to Hu Qi.
"Our club's coaches are, at minimum, experts who've earned a Silver Fist certification. We guarantee that every student here will learn an authentic Fighting Technique."
"Plus, it's our summer promotion right now, so the discounts are huge. If you're interested, sir, we can offer you three free trial classes. You can see how you like it, and it won't be too late to sign up if you think it's a good fit."
Hearing this, Hu Qi's expression shifted slightly.
Over the past two days, he had done some research and learned about the Xia Federation's official ranking system for fighters.
It was divided into four Levels and twelve Ranks. From lowest to highest, they were: Preparatory Level, Copper Fist Level, Silver Fist Level, and Golden Fist Level.
Each Level is further subdivided into Ranks 1 through 3.
The strength at each stage varies.
But those descriptions weren't very intuitive. The clearest distinction was the striking power of a single arm at each Level.
Preparatory Level (Ranks 1-3).
Striking Power: 60 kg, 70 kg, 80 kg.
A 10 kg difference between each Rank.
This Level could be considered for amateur enthusiasts.
Copper Fist Level (Ranks 1-3).
Striking Power: 90 kg, 110 kg, 130 kg.
A 20 kg difference between each Rank.
This is considered the professional level, and one can obtain an official certificate from the Federation.
Silver Fist Level (Ranks 1-3).
Striking Power: 150 kg, 180 kg, 210 kg.
A 30 kg difference between each Rank.
This is the true professional grade. A fighter at this Level would be considered a genuine expert anywhere.
Golden Fist Level (Ranks 1-3).
Striking Power: 240 kg, 290 kg, 340 kg.
This stage is the most extreme, with a 50 kg difference between each Rank. This is the true Boxing King Level.
Only the true masters of fighting could possibly reach this Level.
'If what she said is true, then this club must be seriously skilled.'
Of course, Hu Qi wasn't entirely convinced.
After all, he'd experienced countless sales pitches like this in his past life.
The most famous being: "Interested in swimming and fitness? Our members are all girls..."
And when you went in, there were indeed beautiful women.
But they were all just people hired by the owner to create a lively atmosphere.
They would usually just show up occasionally to work out, make an appearance, get a video taken for promotion.
Half a month later, they'd disappear completely, leaving a bunch of guys just staring at each other.
With a plan in mind, Hu Qi smiled and said, "In that case, please book me for a trial class."
"Of course. Coincidentally, there's a trial class for new students tomorrow. You can come then," the round-faced woman replied with a smile.
...
"Hello, everyone. I'm Chen Wu, and you can call me Coach Chen. For the next three classes, I'll be teaching you a Fighting Technique. I hope you all get something out of it."
They were in a spacious, brightly lit, and immaculate room. The orange-yellow floor gleamed with a soft light.
A burly, middle-aged man in his thirties stood at the front of the room, dressed in a black and red Martial Arts Uniform.
What stood out was the thin scar next to his right cheek, which added a hint of ferocity to his otherwise plain features.
His voice was powerful, carrying clearly to the twenty or so people before him.
Hu Qi was, of course, among them, though he stood toward the back due to his height.
He was surrounded by young people, mostly men, with only a few women scattered among them.
This was to be expected. After all, fighting is violent, and it's easy to get injured.
Girls with the time and money would be better off learning to dance; it's better for sculpting the body.
Chen Wu's gaze swept over the group.
"Before we begin, I have a question. I want to hear your answers!"
"In your eyes, what is fighting?"
As soon as he finished speaking.
Someone immediately raised his hand. He was a handsome Young Man who looked to be eighteen or nineteen at most.
After receiving a nod from Chen Wu, he spoke up.
"Fighting makes our bodies stronger, which helps us better protect ourselves when we're in danger."
"That's a good point. What's your name?"
Chen Wu nodded.
"I'm Song Jian, Coach!"
The Young Man, Song Jian, looked thrilled that Coach Chen had asked for his name and answered loudly.
"Hmm. What Song Jian said isn't wrong, but it's only part of the answer. It isn't the full picture," Chen Wu said in a serious tone.
"The origins of fighting can be traced back thousands of years to a primitive era, a time of savagery and slash-and-burn agriculture.
A Fighting Technique is a set of skills created by our ancestors for battling wild beasts. It has continuously evolved over a long period to become the Fighting Technique we know today.
But no matter how it has changed, its ultimate purpose has always been survival and killing the enemy!"
As he finished speaking, his gaze once again swept over the crowd. Those who met his eyes couldn't help but feel a sense of pressure, their breathing slowing slightly.
Seeing their reaction, the serious expression on his face dissolved, replaced by a faint smile.
"Of course, I'm not saying this so you'll all go out and bully the weak after learning a Fighting Technique. I just wanted to give you a simple introduction to what a Fighting Technique truly means.
After all, no matter how skilled you are, you still have to watch out for a kitchen knife, right? Don't you go using the Fighting Technique I teach you to get into trouble, then come running back to blame me for it."
At Chen Wu's words, the group broke into laughter.