Lei Qiuping and Wu Xiaomin faced off, their gazes colliding with sparks of raw intensity. "You sure you want to spar with me?" Wu Xiaomin's voice boomed, icy as her steely demeanor.
Qiuping stood tall. "A man's word is iron. If I lose, I'm gone for good—out of your sight forever." In that moment, he radiated rugged resolve. Wu Xiaomin's stern face softened, a fleeting warmth flickering before vanishing. "Fine," she said, a faint smile fading fast. "I keep my word too. Beat me, and I'm yours." She stepped back three paces, eyes locked on him. "Your move."
Qiuping didn't hesitate. He knew hesitation would make him look weak in her eyes—timid, unmanly. Zhengyang had warned him: with a woman like Wu Xiaomin, only breaking her tough shell through victory would reveal the tender core beneath. No mercy needed. His foot surged forward, aura erupting, and in a blink, he closed the gap, his Thunder Strike fist roaring like a tidal wave crashing toward her.
Wu Xiaomin, though a woman, didn't flinch at the onslaught. Her body quivered, eyes flashing with surprise. Legs snapping together, she spun, a surge of potent inner energy coursing through her. This woman was no novice—she wielded true energy, a master in her own right.
A crowd from the Fifth Military District gathered, buzzing with excitement. Lei Zhengyang stood among them, watching Wu Xiaomin's energy flare. He'd underestimated the world's talents—even a female instructor had honed true energy. It wasn't as rare as he'd thought.
Wu Xiaomin whirled, a cyclone of motion, clashing with Qiuping's tiger-like ferocity. Bang, bang, bang! Three palm strikes met in a single exchange, the force kicking up clouds of dust. Qiuping staggered back a step; Wu Xiaomin flew three meters. The raw difference in male and female physique showed.
Zhengyang nodded approvingly. Wu Xiaomin was a rare gem in the military—not quite on par with the Lin family's Ning Buluan, but firmly top-tier. She was more than worthy to be his Third Aunt.
"You… you've awakened true energy?" Wu Xiaomin gasped, steadying herself, shock in her voice. She knew the grueling path to her own power, yet Qiuping, in just three months, matched her. Unthinkable.
Qiuping's strike missed, but he'd gauged her strength, adrenaline pumping. "True energy's nothing!" he roared, grinning. "I've got better!" He unleashed the Intercepting Kill Fist Zhengyang had taught him. Wu Xiaomin scoffed inwardly—just military boxing dressed up? But as he closed in, her instincts screamed. This wasn't standard fare. Despite its military form, the technique carried a lethal, predatory edge. Forced back three steps in the first move, she dropped all arrogance.
"What is this?" she demanded, voice low.
Qiuping struck a cocky pose, smirking. "Impressed? This is Kill Fist, forged in blood and fire on the battlefield—not your run-of-the-mill garbage." Wu Xiaomin couldn't help but laugh. Her rare smile wasn't stunning, but to Qiuping, it was magic, leaving him momentarily dazed.
That split-second lapse cost him. Wu Xiaomin's Whirlwind Kick lashed out, merciless, landing square on his chest. Pain flushed his face red as he yelped, "Couldn't you go easier?"
She propped her foot up, dusting her shoe with a taunt. "No mercy for enemies—Military Camp Lesson One. Forgotten, Colonel Lei?" Her jab stung, but her fleeting flirtation hinted at charm beneath the steel. Still got it, she thought, planning to brag to her junior sister later.
"I don't hit women," Qiuping growled, "but you're pissing me off, lady!" His attacks turned ferocious, each strike faster, fiercer, pushing Wu Xiaomin back despite her true energy. She tossed another coy glance, and his heart skipped—this woman's got moves!—disrupting his focus.
Zhengyang's voice cut through. "Third Uncle, it's nearly noon! Didn't you promise me lunch?" A blatant lie, just a nudge to snap Qiuping out of falling for such a blatant honey trap. Seriously, Third Uncle? This weak?
The distraction worked—almost. Wu Xiaomin seized the moment, her attack whistling through the air. But Qiuping, done playing, lunged forward, snatching her by the waist in a lightning-fast grapple. Not just holding her, he hurled her skyward, bellowing, "Submit, or I'll make you!"
Thud! Caught off guard, Wu Xiaomin's energy scattered. She hit the ground hard, pain shooting through her, barely able to rise. Fury mixed with humiliation—this brute had no shred of chivalry, claiming to like her? Bullshit!
Struggling to stand, she faced another blow—his palm smacked her backside, sending her sprawling again. Not from injury, but sheer mortification. Qiuping pinned her down, crowing, "Give up yet? Say it!"
"Wahhh!" A strange sound answered—sobs. Wu Xiaomin, the feared "Female Tyrant," was crying. Zhengyang watched, speechless. This guy's hopeless. Good luck finding a wife, Third Uncle—bet she'll pound you into pork. The crowd gawked, unsure if they were stunned by Qiuping's strength or his audacity.
Zhengyang couldn't bear it, turning to leave. But the tide flipped fast. Qiuping, mid-consolation, got a brutal kick, tumbling several times. Before he could stand, Wu Xiaomin's foot struck again. "You bastard! This is how you woo me? I'm a proper lady, and you dare hit me? Don't fight back, or we're done!"
His screams echoed, but Zhengyang tuned them out. Some couples thrive on this—abuse and being abused. If they're happy, who am I to judge? With a fiery Third Aunt like Wu Xiaomin, the Lei family was in for lively days. Beating's love, scolding's care, right?
Zhengyang swung by Yangtian League's headquarters, now buzzing with fresh energy. Xiao Dasheng, brimming with vigor, coached new recruits in military boxing, each move precise and disciplined. Spotting Zhengyang, everyone paused, shouting, "Boss!"
"Boss, you're here!" Li Yuanfeng emerged, a lean young man trailing him, eyes alight with excitement at Zhengyang's sight. This was Xu Si—Old Fourth, both in his family and the League. Zhengyang's favorite, he'd spent a year in jail for Zhengyang's reckless antics but would rise as one of his six fiercest generals in the future.
"Old Fourth," Zhengyang greeted warmly.
"Boss!" Xu Si gripped his hand, voice thick with loyal fervor.
Zhengyang clapped his shoulder. "You suffered because of me. I swear, it'll never happen again."
Xu Si's voice boomed. "Boss, no blame here. As long as Yangtian League stands, I'm in—unless you don't need me."
Zhengyang pulled him into a fierce hug. "I'll always need you, Xu Si. It's time to shine, brother. We'll be the best." Xu Si owed Zhengyang his life and his family's survival—a debt he'd repay with lifelong loyalty, his heart steadfast.
But Li Yuanfeng's next words carried a shadow. Trouble was brewing.