Suddenly, footsteps sounded from behind.

The woman turned her head and saw a young man approaching.

The man’s eyes immediately fell upon the unconscious figure on the ground. His brow furrowed as he asked sternly, “What happened here?” Then, more pointedly, he added, “Miss Bai, please don’t make this difficult for me!”

“Make it difficult for you?” Miss Bai rose to her feet and turned toward the young man, raising an eyebrow. “I should be asking you that, Han Jun! I was practicing my forms here—when exactly did someone sneak in without you noticing? Tell me, whose responsibility is this—mine or yours?”

“This—!” Han Jun’s face flushed slightly with guilt. Clearly, he knew full well the fault lay with him for allowing someone to get so close to Miss Bai undetected.

“Is… is he okay?” Han Jun awkwardly changed the subject, turning his concern toward the unconscious man on the ground.

“He’s fine—just fainted,” Miss Bai replied calmly. She understood his deflection but didn’t press further. “You know my condition. If I can muster even three parts out of ten in power, I’d consider that a success.”

“Good,” Han Jun let out a quiet sigh of relief.  
Thank goodness nothing serious happened—otherwise, he’d be in deep trouble too.

“Carry him outside,” Miss Bai instructed. “Find a clean spot and wake him up.” With that, she turned and walked away.

“Understood!” Han Jun nodded, then effortlessly lifted Shen Hao and followed behind her.

They quickly exited the woods and returned to the mountain path.

Spotting the stone bench up ahead, Miss Bai walked over and swept the fallen leaves off its surface. Without needing a word, Han Jun gently laid Shen Hao down on it.

Though the bench was still damp, there wasn’t much choice—the entire forest was saturated with moisture from the fog. Lying on the bench was certainly better than lying directly on the muddy ground.

“Press the Futu, Qishe, and Shen Cang acupoints,” Miss Bai said. “Then channel a small amount of internal energy into him. He’ll wake up shortly.”

Han Jun didn’t question her. Following her instructions precisely, he formed a hand seal with his right hand and swiftly tapped Shen Hao on those three points. When he reached the Shen Cang acupoint, he paused briefly and infused a delicate thread of internal energy.

“Let’s go,” Miss Bai said as soon as he finished. She turned and started walking downhill.

Han Jun hesitated slightly. “Are you sure he’ll be alright like this?”

“What could possibly go wrong? He’ll wake up soon enough,” Miss Bai replied without turning back.

After a moment’s thought, Han Jun decided she was right—nothing serious should happen—so he hurried to catch up.

The two walked down the mountain path, one ahead and one behind.

When they reached the base of the hill, Miss Bai glanced back toward the direction of the bench where Shen Hao lay. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips.

We’ll meet again.

...

Miss Bai lived in a villa district just outside the forest park. The neighborhood consisted of small, standalone Western-style houses with private courtyards. Shen Hao always cut through this district on his way to the park—it was the quickest route.

Han Jun escorted her all the way to her front door. He stood by as she unlocked it, but didn’t enter. Once she closed the door behind her, he glanced around briefly and then departed.

Inside, Miss Bai removed her shoes in the hallway and went straight to her room on the second floor.

Her room was simple yet tidy: a bed, a desk, a computer, a wardrobe, and a bookshelf overflowing with books.

She changed into warmer clothing, then walked over to the bookshelf. Crouching down, she pulled out a book from the bottom shelf.

She carried it to her desk by the window, swept aside a clutter of notebooks, loose papers, and pens to clear a space, and placed the book carefully on the surface.

It was an imitation ancient-style thread-bound volume, less than an inch thick. Its indigo cover looked sturdy, bearing four characters inscribed in elegant regular script: “The True Scripture of the Sunflower.”

Miss Bai stared at the title for a long moment, her fingers tracing the cover as if lost in memory. After a while, she gently opened the pages...

...

When Shen Hao regained consciousness, the thick fog had long since burned off under the morning sun. Golden light bathed the mountain path and forest. Wet leaves sparkled in the sunlight, vividly green; birdsong filled the air—cheerful, crisp, and melodious.

Groaning softly, he clutched his face and slowly recalled what had happened: he’d seen a woman in the woods—nimble, powerful, moving like a martial arts master from legend. The moment she noticed him, she’d kicked him midair and knocked him out cold.

Now, as he probed his face with his fingers, he could almost make out the faint imprint of a shoe—but it didn’t actually hurt badly, just a dull ache.

Worried, he stuck a finger in his mouth to check his teeth. To his relief, aside from some swelling, none were loose or missing. Phew. He couldn’t bear the thought: first a terminal illness, now dentures? That would be too cruel for someone so young.

At least fate hadn’t completely abandoned him.

Rubbing his sore cheek, he sat on the edge of the bench and mulled over a single burning question:  
Does real martial arts actually exist?

He didn’t mean the competitive fighting styles shown on TV—no, what he’d seen resembled the legendary “ancient martial arts” from wuxia novels: leaping between treetops, scaling trunks with bare feet, fists slicing the air with audible force. That simply couldn’t be normal athleticism.

The lingering pain on his face confirmed it—he hadn’t imagined it. He’d truly witnessed something extraordinary. Too bad he’d been knocked out before he could even ask to become her disciple. Was this what people called “missing a karmic encounter with a martial sage”?

And yet... she’d just left him there, unconscious, without a word. Wasn’t she worried he’d go around telling people what he’d seen?

He stood up slowly, still holding his face, and began walking downhill, shaking his head.

Online debates about martial arts had raged for years. Some insisted true kung fu existed; others called it all nonsense—mere performance, no match for modern combat sports like boxing, MMA, or judo. Supporters struggled to prove otherwise because, in real life, no one had ever reliably demonstrated “ancient martial arts” under verifiable conditions.

Many now distinguished between “modern martial arts” (like Sanda or Bruce Lee’s Jeet Kune Do—emphasizing speed, power, and practicality) and “ancient martial arts” (often dismissed as rigid forms and empty tradition).

Though internet forums overflowed with elaborate theories about internal energy and biomechanics in classical styles, no real-world proof ever surfaced.

That’s precisely why the woman hadn’t bothered silencing him. Even if he shouted it from the rooftops, no one would believe him. At best, he’d get ridiculed; at worst, dragged into endless online flame wars.

Tch. He hated trouble—and arguments, whether online or offline. So this secret would likely stay buried with him.

Still… would he ever see that woman again? He hadn’t even gotten a clear look at her face!

Before leaving, he couldn’t help but step back into the grove to inspect the spot where she’d trained. It wasn’t as dramatic as he’d imagined—just a few footprints and a couple of snapped branches.

After a quick, fruitless search for clues, he finally left the woods and headed down the mountain path.

He’d already decided: from now on, he’d check that grove every morning during his run—maybe he’d get lucky and meet her again.

But it was strange… he’d been running here for over a year. Why had he never heard anything before?

Two possibilities: either he’d simply never paid attention, or—more likely—today was the woman’s first time training in that spot. Given how quiet the mountain was, even small noises from the woods would’ve caught his ear over the past year. The fact that he’d noticed nothing until today strongly suggested this was her debut.

Now, after being discovered, would she return? Only tomorrow would tell.

Lost in thought about his bizarre encounter, he arrived home at 8:30 a.m. He checked himself in the mirror first—his handsome face was slightly swollen and bruised, but nothing serious. Reassured, he took a shower to wash off the sweat from his run, changed into warm, thicker clothes, put on his glasses, grabbed his keys and phone, and headed out.

After breakfast, he took the subway to the Third People’s Hospital of Nanzhou City—one of the city’s top-tier Grade-3A hospitals.

He was here for one reason: to find out what was causing those sudden, sharp abdominal pains.

After registering for an expert consultation, he met with Dr. Guo. After explaining his symptoms and undergoing a brief exam, the doctor ordered a CT scan.

Shen Hao didn’t object—of course they needed to see inside to diagnose the problem.

Once the scan was done, he returned to the office with the film.

Dr. Guo studied the black-and-white images for a long time, his brow deeply furrowed, as if he’d found something extraordinary.

Shen Hao grew increasingly anxious. Though he could see the images, he wasn’t a doctor—he couldn’t decipher what was wrong.

“Doctor… what’s wrong with me?” he finally asked.

“Your condition…” Dr. Guo turned to him slowly, “is rather complicated.”

“Complicated? You mean… terminal?” Shen Hao ventured cautiously. “Doctor, just tell me straight—I can handle it.”

“It’s not terminal, but it is quite rare…” The doctor gestured for him to sit. “Sit down. I’ll explain carefully.”

Shen Hao straightened up immediately. Dr. Guo settled back into his chair, paused thoughtfully, then said:

“Young man… do you know what intersex conditions are?”