Chapter 1

"Leaving my hometown, I carry my luggage... often dreaming of my beloved girl... far away, my heart is still at home..."

The rain came and went quickly, leaving the air damp and filled with a faint earthy smell. The cobblestone streets reflected the drizzling sunlight.

At the entrance of a two-story grocery store, a young man leaning on a broom hummed a song that no one could understand, lazily watching the crowds passing by on the street.

This young man, about 1.83 meters tall, had a slender build that made his coarse work clothes look like a tailor-made, exquisite suit. His lustrous black hair, slightly curled and reaching his ears, was styled with a thick, old-fashioned fringe that obscured the upper half of his face. Coupled with a large, unappealing black-rimmed glasses, it was almost impossible to see what his face really looked like.

After finishing his almost zero-progress sweeping, the young man turned to look at the grocery store behind him. The old storefront, the pitifully few varieties of goods, the single-digit daily customer flow, and the dilapidated wooden sign that was about to fall apart, with the cartoon octopus on it almost unrecognizable due to fading.

This made the young man wonder how long the grocery store could last.

"Heather! Don't stand there idling at the entrance, come and unload the goods!"

A hoarse, tobacco-tinged voice came from the entrance: "So lazy, do you want to lose your wages?"

The young man named Heather's face fell. He reluctantly propped the broom against the wall, dusted off the dirt from his hands, and walked into the store, changing the lyrics he was humming:

"Holding a corn bun in my hands... there's not a drop of oil in the dish..."

Ding dong!

The doorbell rang as the door was pushed open.

Inside, the store was lined with six rows of shelves, two of which were relatively new. About one-third of the shelves were empty, and the items displayed were mostly low-quality daily necessities, cheap ready-to-eat snacks, and slightly wilted vegetables and fruits. The truly valuable items, such as cigarettes and fine wines, were locked in a thick, light blue glass counter.

The ceiling fan spun weakly, making a creaking sound. Heather, who had just pushed the door open, focused his gaze on the figure behind the counter.

Mr. Jack, the owner of this "Octopus Jack General Store."

"What are you looking at? Did you lose your memory while sweeping, Mr. Heather?"

His large, fat belly strained the dirty, checkered shirt, and his face was covered with a tangled mess of gray and white whiskers. His sparse hair was barely enough to cover his shiny, oily scalp, and his nose was a textbook example of a red, bulbous nose. The first impression this short, fat old man gave was not a pleasant one.

Mr. Jack was half-slumped on an old sofa behind the counter. His short, thick fingers waved toward the back storage room, and his hoarse voice started nagging without mercy: "You only have one good quality, and that's your strength. Hurry up and bring out ten boxes of Siro sparkling water."

"Ten boxes? With our store's customer flow, you want to sell until 2009, old man? They're 82-year-old Dardamil, and you're 99-year-old Siro, impressive!"

The language switched from Chinese to the common language of this world. As Heather walked toward the back storage room, he grumbled: "I've already thought of a slogan for you—99-year-old Siro sparkling water, ten years of sedimentation, a noble experience, a rich aroma, and a variety of hospital experiences."

"Pretty rhyming... where do you get so much nonsense?"

Mr. Jack, who had just realized what Heather said, shouted in anger. Seeing Heather slip into the storage room, he shook his head: "A good young man, but unfortunately, he has a big mouth."

One night two months ago, while driving to restock, he found this guy in a sleepwear, unconscious on the side of the road. Without thinking, he saved him.

Yes, if he had left him there, by morning, his remains would probably be found on the operating table of an illegal black doctor.

Although he was dazed for a long time after waking up, this guy indeed had a lot of strength. Relying on the identity of his savior, plus providing food and lodging and a low wage, he hired this guy, who claimed to have amnesia, without any contract, and assigned him all the odd jobs in the store.

Then he realized he had made a good deal.

Unbelievably strong, seemingly never tiring, not picky about food and lodging, and although not very respectful, he generally completed the tasks assigned to him. The only drawbacks were his large appetite and his talkative nature.

What? The wage is too low?

A mysterious, illiterate guy who claims to have amnesia, providing food and lodging, and a monthly wage of 10,000 reni is already a saint, isn't it?

For a moment, Mr. Jack was moved by his own kindness, wiping his eyes and pulling out a half bottle of whiskey from under the counter, taking a big gulp.

Ding dong!

The door was pushed open, and a tall man in a black hooded tracksuit walked into the grocery store, smiling and greeting Mr. Jack: "Hey, old Jack."

"Izunabi, it's been over two months, haven't seen you. Are your supplies running low again?"

Mr. Jack wiped the alcohol stains from the corner of his mouth: "I really don't understand you. Is training in the deep mountains that exciting? If it were me, I'd suffocate to death in a day."

The tall man named Izunabi smiled gently and walked to the shelves of daily necessities, picking items while talking:

"This is the mainstream training method of our school. Once you get used to it, it's not bad. By the way, the last time I came, your handyman was demanding to go back home. Have you hired anyone new recently?"

Mr. Jack pursed his lips: "...Barely."

"Really? You managed to hire someone new with your bad reputation? Wait, did you trick another naive young man from the countryside?"

"Apologize! Apologize to the me in your imagination!"

Mr. Jack was furious: "This time, he begged me to take him in! He... oh, he's here. Heather, this is Mr. Izunabi, our regular customer."

Izunabi turned and saw a young man with an obscured face, carrying five boxes of sparkling water in each hand, walking steadily toward them.

"Hi."

Heather nodded at Izunabi: "You're a regular customer here? That must be tough."

Izunabi watched as the young man named Heather casually placed the ten boxes of sparkling water in front of the counter, as if they were ten boxes of foam. When the stacked boxes were placed on the ground, there was no tremor, making one wonder if they were glued together.

His physical condition was excellent, and his coordination was very good, traits only a highly trained expert would have.

Izunabi subconsciously rubbed his bearded chin. Such a capable young man could excel anywhere, so why would he willingly degrade himself by working at old Jack's store and being exploited?

Ding dong!

Three men in leather jackets, reeking of alcohol, burst into the grocery store. The leader, with a green mohawk, scanned the store and spat out the toothpick from the corner of his mouth.

Mr. Jack yawned and waved his short, thick fingers toward the shelves:

"Welcome, please browse the shelves. Our store is committed to fair and reasonable prices, serving customers with integrity..."

He couldn't finish his well-rehearsed welcome speech.

A black gun barrel pointed directly at Mr. Jack's red, bulbous nose, and the old man immediately raised his hands.

The other two, with red mohawks and a blue flattop, also pulled out their guns, pointing them at Heather and Izunabi.

"Such a lousy store, looks like it's about to go bankrupt. Whatever, it's just a rundown town in the mountains."

The green mohawked man kept the gun steady with his right hand and waved his left hand: "Shut up, old man, move slowly from behind the counter, let me see your hands... good, no funny business. You two, tie up these unlucky guys and shave them."

Izunabi's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his body adjusted to a ready position.

These three men had very steady hands, suggesting they had done this before. Moreover, they were not wearing masks, indicating they did not intend to leave any witnesses.

Out of principle and conscience, he would not stand by and let old Jack and this handyman named Heather die in front of him.

Suddenly, Izunabi noticed something strange—although a gun was pointed at his head, the fear on old Jack's face was very insincere.

Was this the same timid old Jack? Something was off!

In the next instant, a blurry black shadow flashed before his eyes.

With three muffled thuds, the three robbers were simultaneously hit as if by a train, flying backward and crashing into the shelves and the door!

The store door and the nearest shelves were shattered. Blood, wooden debris, and broken goods flew around the not-so-large store, and the dull explosions echoed for a long time.

Old Jack instinctively covered his head, then shouted: "Heather! You broke my shelves again! And the old store door!"

Izunabi, standing nearby, had a stiff expression. Even with his powerful dynamic vision, he could barely catch the afterimage of what just happened.

The young man named Heather, in less than half a second, moved at an almost instantaneous speed, delivering powerful punches to the three robbers, each punch exerting a force of over two tons!

Looking at the three mangled bodies, with blood pooling beneath them and two scorch marks on the ground from the friction of Heather's shoes, Izunabi realized this was not the realm of ordinary humans!

Izunabi subconsciously focused his "Qi" on his eyes and looked at Heather, who was squatting by the shelves, arguing with old Jack while picking up the scattered goods.

Although faint, a thin layer of silent river-like "Qi" indeed covered Heather's body.

Izunabi's cold sweat finally dripped down his forehead.

A born "Qi" user!