The supernatural is resurging, and ghosts and monsters run rampant.
In this world, people have only three ways to survive: let a ghost possess them and burn away their lifespan; cultivate the Dao and drain their mental energy; or learn Western magic and burn through money with pay-to-win purchases.
Zheng Liang chooses none of them.
In his previous life, he was a bona fide martial arts grandmaster. He practiced his fists for thirty years, held his stances for thirty years, and took beatings for thirty years. In this life, his soul has crossed over into a parallel Blue Star. There is no spiritual energy, no internal force, only a body starting over from scratch.
He has practiced Tai Chi for ten years.
No qigong, no internal force. Every morning at 4:30, he gets up and practices the seventy-four forms of Chen-style Tai Chi over and over. He practices until his knees ache, until blisters turn to calluses on his feet, until every muscle remembers the path of each move.
On the day he reports for his first year of college, something sinister invades the campus. Everyone runs for the exits. Only he charges against the crowd and straight into the danger.
Because he sees someone lying on the ground.
A Class D resentful fiend, immensely strong and so fast it can barely be seen. Zheng Liang takes three palm strikes, breaks two ribs, and can barely lift his left arm.
In the seventh minute of the fight, he catches the instant his opponent shifts its center of gravity.
A Covering Hand and Arm Punch lands squarely on its chest.
The fiend dissolves.
He slides down the wall and sits on the ground, trembling with pain, the flesh on his right knuckles torn to shreds.
He looks down at his hand and grins. “Not bad. Still got a fight in me.”
