Chapter 66

Two courageous martial artists who had the strength to train despite the late July’s heat exchanged whispers among themselves. The dojo was a small, cramped affair with only a wall of mirrors and a diminutive window to the side, with barely any air circulation. It was an uncomfortable arrangement, but it drove the price of the class low enough to make it worth it, at least most of the year.

Phillip and Marc were watching as Michael performed a kata under sensei Stephan’s watchful eye. However, something was different than usual.

“Is it just me or…?” muttered Marc.

“No,” said Stephan, “he definitely got better. Much better.”

In fact, the difference was so much that Phillip could do nothing but acknowledge Michael’s improvement even though there still was bad blood between them. Michael’s outburst the other day had done much to contain Phillip’s temperament, and another blow to the man’s attitude had been during the warm-up conditioning, when hitting Michael felt like he was hitting a wall of bricks. But containment did not mean that the issue had been resolved. In fact, putting a lid on Phillip’s behavior was akin to trying putting the lid on a steam pressurized pipe. The pressure simply went somewhere else, spilling over various facets of the lawyer’s private and work life.

To add insult to injury, Phillip felt threatened by the young man. Until now he could tolerate whenever the sensei called him chosen one as a joke, mostly because their difference was like night and day. Phillip had been training for years when Michael joined the dojo, and neither felt like Michael could ever catch up to the older man. Not with his attitude, at least, which Phillip secretly very much liked. If Michael didn’t want to catch up, then he would never catch up.

But now it felt as if he was indeed catching up to the point he might even surpass him, all of it without having put in the work. If Michael could hear what Phillip was thinking, he might strangle the older man. But it was understandable, Phillip did not know about the dungeon, and thus had no idea about the actual hard work Michael put in every day. To his eyes Michael had suddenly become wealthy, inhumanly strong and preternaturally good at martial arts.

Michael kept performing as if he was the only person present. His focus was absolute, his foundation was solid, and he seemed to have insights not even their sensei had managed to integrate into his practice. Unknown to them, he was even using one of his spirit guardians to watch himself from a third person view so that he could spot problems with his form. Splitting his focus was hard, but not impossible to the current him as his mental stats soared higher and higher.

As he demonstrated the fundamental Sanchin kata, the foundation of their style, each move seamlessly blended into the next, perfectly encapsulating the principles of Pangai Noon, hardness and softness.

Most surprisingly to everyone watching, he seemed to be growing better at it with each repetition of the kata. Already he was on his fourth time doing the same set of moves, but compared to the first time it was like watching someone else entirely.

Sensei Stephan went from simply nodding along the first time Michael did the kata, with no glaring problems to correct, to being surprised the second time, deadly serious the third, and slack-jawed the fourth. He had not seen this rate of improvement the last time they trained in the park, because Michael had not yet unlocked the Unity skill. He was now actively watching his student as if he was the student among the two, and Michael was the master. Not even Sensei Taiko elicited this sort of reaction whenever he came over from Japan to impart his wisdom to their bumpkin dojo, at great monetary price.

Yet now they had a better master than even he, at least considering that Michael did it for free. He was not quite at Taiko’s level, and not even at Stephan’s, but he was grasping profundities about the martial style that not even Stephan had mastered yet.

“You should all watch,” Stephan said in a soft voice, not wanting to disturb Michael as he began the fifth iteration of the kata.

“I guess this class is hopelessly derailed, isn’t it?” Phillip quipped, but even he was watching intently.

“It is. I feel like we can all gain much by watching him. Look, he’s understanding principles I took years to internalize in real time.”

“Yeah,” said Marc in his usual deadpan fashion, “I feel like I’m improving even just by watching. In fact—” he stretched and moved to Michael’s side, then began to copy his moves while glancing at him from time to time, trying to gain inspiration.

Soon, they were all doing endless repetitions of the foundational kata alongside Michael, who was still performing at peak capacity as if in a daze.

“He’s not even sweating,” said Phillip. They had taken a break due to the heat, and were all panting.

“That’s because he is using the energy if Chi to fuel his moves,” said Stephan, beginning an easy explanation for the others about the principles of Chi and Jing.

“I thought it was all bogus,” said Phillip. Marc was shaking his head.

“It isn’t. He’s proof of that. Michael, strike that punching bag.”

Michael nodded impassively, hiding the grin that wanted to manifest in his face from the others. He gathered Chi by following the right moves, and converted it into Jing. Then he struck. Ever since his skill had increased in level, thanks to the dungeon, he had felt in a constant state of enlightenment whenever he did his katas. He had just spent hours doing them in the dojo, yet it felt like moments to him. Coupled with his [Unity] skill pushing his body beyond mortal limits, he was officially entering the realm of the superhuman.

The punch landed with a satisfying dent in the punching bag’s side. Michael’s strength was high, but he was no Captain America throwing punching bags across the room.

Still, “if that had been a ribcage…” Marc muttered.

“Yeah,” said Phillip, frowning.

“By the way,” Michael said now that everybody was focusing on him. “I wanted to help out and bought this whole gym. We’re no longer going to be relegated in this cramped room.”

“Haha, funny, chosen one.” Phillip said.

“I’m not joking.”

“You aren’t,” said Stephan, “are you?”

“Nope. You can hold your classes in the big room downstairs, for free. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds amazing,” the sensei said. Of them all, he was the only one used to Michael’s strangeness. He knew what the man was capable of, and he had not been surprised by Michael’s sudden mastery of the art. That’s why he had immediately switched to observing and learning.

Even then, he couldn’t help but feel shocked that Michael would spend money on him like this. Shocked and grateful.

“How did you gain so much money? First, the company car with a driver. Now this?” Phillip said with a hint of malice. “You’re doing illegal stuff, aren’t you?”

Michael scoffed. “Take out your phone, and google Unity Corporation. Look up who owns it and how much it’s worth.”

Phillip grudgingly complied, his face unreadable. But the more he read, the more his features assumed a look of disbelief. “What? You… you have a whole corporation under your… and what’s with all those expenses? What even does Unity do? How did you make a company so quickly? Why did I never hear of it before?”

“We are not actively advertising my presence. But it’s all public data.” Michael said. The fact that none of his friends and family had contacted him yet, looking for money, spoke to just how little people cared about these sorts of things. There were loads of conspiracy theories about ‘hidden powers’ pulling the strings of the world, but nine times out of ten the names of a CEO or of the stakeholders of a company were simply a google search away.

“I don’t believe it. I just don’t!” said Phillip. “I know you. I know you are worthless. What the hell is this shit? How did you go from there to becoming good at everything? Is it a new drug? What is it?”

Michael felt himself get spiteful. After all, this man liked to torment others. Why not pay him back? “Why would I tell you?”

“I’ve seen that movie, Michael. I know people are trying to make a drug that increases intelligence in real life. Did someone contact you? If it is a drug, I’ll do anything to even get a single dose. Do you have any idea how I could turn my life around with it?”

The others had been watching the scene without saying much. Stephan was shaking his head, thinking that he had done the right thing when he had chosen not to get involved with Michael. Seeing Phillip grovel like this, he thought the man was pathetic.

Marc was calculating how to best play this to his advantage. He soon realized that he had never treated Michael well, despite not actively being antagonistic like Phillip had been, and with the realization he also understood that he was in no position to even ask for favors. They were not friends—Michael had tried but Marc had rejected him many times. He was not interested in being friends with someone half his age. Now things had changed, and Marc could only blame himself. But he wouldn’t stoop so low as to grovel. He could see how Michael was looking at Phillip like the man was a disgusting cockroach and nothing more.

“What can you even do for me that I would care about?” Michael asked, not denying nor confirming anything, “I own a megacorporation now. What can a little failure of a lawyer do for me? Stop embarrassing yourself like this. Get yourself together and start treating people nicely for a change, then maybe they might think about doing you favors.”

Phillip nodded, but his glare was anything but friendly. Some people could only think about their own benefits, and were sore losers when they didn’t get when they didn’t get what they wanted. Suddenly Stephan’s words echoed in Michael’s mind.

He was not here to learn a martial art, not anymore now that he had his skill aiding him. He was here to learn how to deal with people.