Pushing open the door, he was greeted by a blazing red sun. The flagstones in the courtyard looked a little worn, while the ring of thorn roses in the corner, planted by his mother and tended every day, swayed gently in the June breeze. The two century-old locust trees by the entrance were so stout that it would take three people joining hands to encircle each trunk, yet they remained full of life, their branches and leaves flourishing.
After washing up, Nie Wushuang walked to the center of the courtyard and faced the blazing sunrise. He set his feet slightly apart and slowly raised his arms, then suddenly burst into motion. His fists whooshed through the air, and his legs spun like wheels. In the time it takes half an incense stick to burn, he performed the entire Nie Family Fist routine from beginning to end, executing every move flawlessly and with absolute precision.
