No sooner had Jason Luo returned from Philadelphia than two important guests arrived.
Han Libo came in with a broad smile. "We just got in last night and heard you'd gone to Philadelphia—thought we'd have to wait a couple of days! Oh, let me introduce Mr. Meng Chengze, Deputy Editor-in-Chief of Boxing & Magazine, the most influential publication back home. When he heard about your situation, he insisted on meeting you."
Jason Luo quickly shook hands with Editor Meng. "Welcome! Thank you for taking the time to come. Oh—this is my promoter, Mr. Rod."
After a round of pleasantries, they used Raul's office as a temporary meeting room.
Knowing Jason Luo's training schedule was tight, Han Libo went straight to the point. "Since I returned, I've been in touch with several organizations and media outlets. The response has been overwhelmingly positive. To accelerate the growth of competitive sports, we urgently need a symbolic figure to represent it—and everyone believes our cooperation has great potential."
"After gathering ideas, we drafted a detailed plan. First, we'll expand your visibility and influence back home. With Editor Meng leading the effort, we'll use traditional media, online campaigns, and new-media livestreaming to introduce you to a broader fan base."
"Next, we'll aim to secure online broadcast rights for your official matches as soon as possible. Paid fight streams are still rare, so this has huge potential."
"Once you have a solid following, we can partner with organizations like Martial Arts Wind to organize a few commercial fights—then maybe matches in Japan and Thailand. I'm sure it'll create a sensation in no time."
As Han Libo spoke, his excitement grew. Rod nodded. "Excellent. We agree in principle, but there are a few complications. For example, broadcast rights are tricky—both the WBA and the American Boxing Association must approve them, and the fees are very high."
Editor Meng smiled. "We're aware. CCTV Sports Channel used to handle similar deals, so we've already looked into the procedures."
"That's good. You're well-prepared," Rod said. "Still, time is tight. We're about to face a tough fight. Jason will be challenging Britain's top-tier fighter Charlison Hanvey at St. Mary's Stadium in Southampton in thirteen days. It would be a pity to miss this one."
Editor Meng, clearly knowledgeable about the boxing scene, widened his eyes. "You mean that British rising star—the one they call The Royal Guard?"
"That's him."
Meng was stunned. "Jason, that's a big leap forward. But if you beat him, you'll officially break into the top tier. Young fighters move fast! We absolutely can't miss covering this match."
They immediately drafted a letter of intent to establish cooperation. Once broadcast rights were secured, they would discuss revenue sharing in detail...
When business was finished, Han Libo pulled Jason aside. "Jason, I looked into that Southern Fist matter. The Southern Fist King, Liu Yamei, was indeed real—and quite extraordinary. Born during the Qing dynasty's Xianfeng era, he first trained at the Southern Shaolin Temple in Quanzhou, Fujian. Later, he traveled across the country, seeking out masters and exchanging techniques until he became a true grandmaster. He created the unique Swallowing and Exhaling Fist, becoming a legend in his time."
"As for Liu Zhiqing, I found him too. But there's nothing special in the records, and he passed away in 2009. He did have a son, Liu Jiguang, who lives in Putian—but he's not involved in martial arts. Apparently, he runs a tofu shop."
"Huh?" Jason was stunned. "Selling tofu?"
"Could there be a mistake?"
Han Libo shook his head. "No. My friend verified it several times through the local civil affairs bureau. He's indeed a descendant of Liu Yamei. Liu Zhiqing started selling tofu himself in his later years."
Jason felt a wave of disappointment. "Alright… thank you so much, Mr. Han. Still, I'd like to see for myself if I get the chance."
Han Libo nodded. "Sure. I'll give you the exact address. It's quite remote and not easy to find."
Since they had come all this way, Mr. Rod arranged a dinner for everyone. Over the meal, Rod and Editor Meng hit it off immediately. Though Meng was from Jilin, his grasp of combat sports was incredibly broad and insightful.
Once everyone had grown comfortable, Jason voiced a question that had long been on his mind. "Editor Meng, why does our combat sports scene lag behind even smaller countries like Japan or Thailand? From what I hear, our economy's doing great."
Editor Meng sighed. "There are many reasons. Historically, our development started late and lacked continuity. Conceptually and system-wise, we confined combat sports too strictly within the category of physical fitness. The emphasis was always on health, not confrontation, which limited our fighters' competitiveness."
"Even now, our rules are too protective—no elbows, no consecutive knees, no clinch control... With so many restrictions, our fighters struggle to adapt when they step into truly global rings."
So that was the reason.
Jason finally understood. He'd always wondered how a nation so steeped in martial arts tradition could end up lagging behind others. Clearly, his understanding had been too shallow.
Han Libo raised his glass. "Come, Jason—here's to your trip to Britain. May you succeed and return victorious!"
"Cheers."
"Jason, this will be your first match watched by all our people. You have to show the world our strength! When that day comes, I'll be your number-one fan!"
"I will."
After dinner, the two guests left in a hurry—the schedule was tight.
When they were gone, Rod turned to Jason. "I didn't expect things to move this fast. That makes the upcoming fight even more important."
Jason nodded. "Don't worry, I won't let anyone down."
"Good. Get ready—after the weigh-in we'll head to the UK and stay until the fight's done. There'll be other events too, so your training time will be limited. We're all feeling the pressure."
The situation weighed heavily on Jason, but it also stirred a growing longing for the faraway eastern homeland he'd only ever heard about.
After returning home, he began discussing the trip with his father. "Dad, Grace's vacation's coming up soon. We should start preparing for the trip. I've always been curious—where exactly is our ancestral home?"
His father sighed. "I once asked your grandfather the same thing. It's complicated. He was born in Zhangjiakou, Hebei, but after the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, the family moved south—first to Qingdao, Shandong, then wandered through Southeast Asia. When the U.S. Pacific Fleet began recruiting sailors there, he joined as a shiphand and eventually settled in America."
"Jay, the exact place doesn't really matter. What matters is that we remember where we come from and stay true to ourselves. This trip has always been something I wanted to do, and Grace has been looking forward to it too. Let's go straight to Shanxi—her hometown can be our family's home as well."
"Alright, Dad—whatever you say."