Chapter 5 – Strength, Spirit, and Conditions
Zedwan was still coughing lightly, dabbing at his nose with a tissue, his face twisted between irritation and lingering embarrassment.
“Damn it… the moment you mentioned grizzly bears, I had a flashback.”
He groaned.
“My half-Kodiak cousin.”
He leaned back, eyes narrowing at the memory.
“I accidentally bumped into him while he was sleeping once.”
A pause.
“He woke up… and suplexed me in slow motion.”
Shinin’s eyes widened.
“In slow motion?”
Zedwan nodded grimly.
“Slow. Motion.”
He gestured with both hands.
“His arms were like bridge pillars.”
Liu Kei burst into laughter, slapping the table.
“Now it makes sense!”
He pointed accusingly.
“No wonder your children are built like walking fortresses.”
He grinned wickedly.
“If logic ruled the world, they’d all be wrestlers, not martial artists.”
A dramatic flourish of his hand.
“As a judge, I’d open a new category—‘Jaw-Dropping Muscle Mass.’”
Zedwan raised an eyebrow, half serious, half amused.
“Don’t joke.”
He took a breath.
“My half-tiger kid is only six and already lifting two live cows at once.”
Liu Kei blinked.
“…You’re kidding.”
“I wish.”
Zedwan sighed.
“They’re physically strong.”
A beat.
“But not all of them are strong here.”
He tapped his chest.
“Like Shinin.”
Liu Kei’s laughter faded. His gaze drifted toward the small garden beside the arena, where glowing flowers swayed gently in the wind.
“A common problem these days,” he said quietly.
“Plenty of talent. Empty spirit.”
He folded his arms.
“Everyone wants victory.”
“Few are willing to taste defeat first.”
His voice hardened slightly.
“No warrior is born without scars.”
Soft footsteps approached.
Shinin returned from the restroom, face clean, hair slightly damp. He carried a tall glass of mango juice, sipping it slowly with an expression of exaggerated innocence.
“If I win later…” he said casually,
“…can I ask for a prize?”
Zedwan narrowed his eyes. “What prize?”
“A one-month vacation.”
Sip.
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“Gaming on Deer Island.”
Liu Kei’s eyes nearly popped out.
“A prize your father’s head!”
He leaned forward, jabbing a finger at Shinin.
“If you win, I’m appointing you assistant coach at my dojo.”
He grinned like a villain.
“Wake up at five in the morning. Training until your knees cry for mercy.”
Shinin choked on his juice.
“GULP—!”
Zedwan smirked.
“Now that’s proper.”
He crossed his arms.
“A son needs some hardness. Can’t pamper him too much.”
He glanced sideways at Liu Kei.
“But… if he really wins… give him at least one night of gaming.”
Liu Kei nodded slowly.
“Deal.”
Then smiled maliciously.
“The next day—20-kilometer run.”
He added calmly,
“If that’s not enough, he runs while carrying a calf.”
Shinin slapped his own forehead.
“With conditions like this…”
He sighed dramatically.
“I might as well lose early.”
Zedwan’s expression shifted.
The humor drained from his face.
His voice, when it came, was quieter. Heavier.
“Shinin… one day you’ll face an enemy who has no sympathy.”
The wind seemed to hush.
“One who doesn’t care who you are.”
“Who I am.”
Shinin’s smile faded.
“If you still think running is safety…”
Zedwan’s eyes locked onto his son’s.
“…you won’t survive this world.”
Silence.
For a brief moment—
The mischief in Shinin’s eyes flickered.
Replaced by something else.
Something sharper.
“…And if I fight,” Shinin asked softly,
“…and lose?”
Liu Kei turned toward him.
His tone was calm, but it carried the weight of iron.
“Losing is normal.”
A pause.
“But running from a challenge?”
His gaze hardened.
“That’s what’s shameful.”
They sat in silence as the breeze moved gently through the resting area.
A waiter approached, placing a steaming cup of oolong tea in front of Zedwan.
Zedwan blinked.
“…You ordered tea for me?”
“Wasn’t me,” Liu Kei said, shrugging.
“The waiter saw you choking earlier.”
“He felt sorry for you.”
He smirked.
“Looks like even someone as tough as you has fragile moments.”
Zedwan shot him an annoyed glance, then smiled faintly.
“Just wait.”
He tilted his head toward Shinin.
“My son’s going to surprise everyone.”
His voice carried a quiet certainty.
“Like I once did.”
Liu Kei chuckled.
“As long as he doesn’t prank the judges mid-battle…”
Laughter returned to the table.
Shinin sipped the last of his mango juice, eyeing the two older men with a mix of admiration and long-suffering disbelief.
Then—
From the far end of the arena entrance—
Two familiar figures appeared.
One with long tied-back hair.
The other walking with the effortless swagger of a film star.
Troy.
Danny.
Veteran masters, returning at last—students in tow, and hidden agendas behind their calm expressions.
The tournament had not yet begun.
Yet already—
The heat of what was coming could be felt.
