Chapter: Principal Power Levels and Coffee-Fueled Truth Bombs
You know it's going to be a weird day when the first guy you meet on your run looks like he belongs in a boy band but breathes like a busted vacuum cleaner.
"Nice to meet you," he wheezed, dumping half a bottle of water over his head. "Name's Shi Woon Yi. Just started martial arts this week."
Oh boy. A rookie.
But he offered his hand, and I shook it. His grip was firm. Good start. Most people back away from me like I'm about to dropkick them into next Tuesday.
"Same here," I said, giving him a nod. "If you want, I can help with your training. I'm... let's just say, not new."
That sounded better than I've trained my entire life, can bench press small cars, and see martial arts forms in my dreams like choreographed dances from hell.
He looked surprised. Honestly, I didn't blame him. Who offers free training to sweaty strangers in the park before breakfast? But I liked him. He wasn't faking it. And, well... I kind of needed a friend.
Most people at school just liked how I looked or asked me to carry their furniture like I was some handsome moving truck. But they didn't get me. Not really.
Shi Woon blinked. "If it's no trouble, I'd love to. You can come to my house. It's the biggest one around. Hard to miss."
"I'll be there," I said. "What time?"
"Night."
Perfect. I had nothing scheduled besides a mountain of schoolwork and getting drop-kicked by life in general. "Cool."
He tilted his head. "Thanks... but why so friendly? Do you know me or something?"
I shook my head. "Nah. I just want a male friend. My school is... all girls."
He squinted. "What—are you from Wild High or something?"
"Yeah. How'd you know?"
He choked on his water. "Wait, seriously? That place isn't even co-ed."
"It is now," I said with a shrug. "Didn't you hear?"
"Nope. But how are you the only guy? Any other guy would kill to go there."
"Exactly! I thought I'd be knee-deep in competition, but it's just me. No other guys. It's super weird."
"Maybe people thought it was a prank or something. Bad marketing."
"Maybe."
"So how's it going?"
"It's only my second day, but... let's just say, being surrounded by beautiful girls who can also break my spine with a pinky is kind of exciting."
He laughed. "Don't you already get attention though?"
"I do, but those are weak girls. I want someone who can actually kick me through a wall, you know?"
"Okay, that's not creepy at all."
"Don't judge me."
"Still, I can't imagine going to school with a bunch of martial artists. You're not scared of getting stabbed or something?"
"Honestly? Never crossed my mind. The girls seem classy. Wouldn't suit them to get all stabby."
"Hmm. Still. Watch your back. Break one heart and boom—dagger to the ribs."
"You keep bringing up stabbing. Should I be worried?"
He shrugged. "Saw it on the news. Some stabbing thing nearby."
I chuckled. "Then I hope you don't get stabbed."
"Dude, don't jinx it. I already had a broken arm. No more holes, please."
We exchanged numbers and I waved as I jogged off to finish my run. I still had kilometers to go, and after that rest, my legs were practically screaming for more punishment.
But I kept thinking about Shi Woon.
When we shook hands, I felt something.
Ki.
It wasn't polished or dangerous like a pro's. It was raw. Wild. Like a puppy trying to use nunchucks.
He was new, just like me. Probably not from a martial family—guys born into the Murim world start training before they can spell their names. Shi Woon? His Ki was unrefined. Colorless. Probably had a basic-level master.
Still... he had potential.
'I wonder who's teaching him,' I thought. 'Maybe I should ask Charles about the locals... just in case I stumble into a nest of Murim assassins.'
Not that I was paranoid.
Okay, maybe a little.
But in this world, one wrong handshake can turn into a life-or-death battle with a guy who thinks shirtless screaming makes his punches stronger.
Ah, Murim life.
So full of youth.
And possibly stab wounds.
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You'd think that after defeating a guy twice your size in a street brawl, running ten kilometers before dawn, and finishing a high-protein breakfast fit for three NFL players, your morning would be relaxing. Yeah, well, welcome to my life. Song Jae Gu — part-time martial artist, full-time big brother, and apparently now… high school student chauffeur.
Let me start from the top.
Morning routine: 100 pushups, 100 situps, 10km run, stretch, cold shower, and a breakfast that could feed a small army (or just my little siblings). Check. After that, I saw off my brother and sister as their school bus came to pick them up. They'd transferred to Wild's High Elementary Division—which, yes, is a real thing now—and were ridiculously excited about it. I mean, who wouldn't want to go to a school where girls can suplex trees?
Once the gremlins were off, it was time for part two of the day: Operation "Get Mom to School Without a Panic Attack."
"Mom, breathe. You look like you're about to walk into the Hunger Games," I said as I parked the new car in the Wild's High parking lot. The name still sounded like a low-budget action movie, but apparently, it was also now my whole family's academic future.
My mom sat there gripping her purse like it might explode. She wasn't exactly the confident type — more like the "smile politely and apologize even when the cashier messes up" kind of woman. But here she was, wearing her best outfit and trying not to hyperventilate like she was going to meet the President.
"I just… never thought I'd work in a school like this," she said quietly.
She wasn't wrong. Wild's High was famous for producing some of the fiercest female martial artists in the country. Think fashion models with black belts — who could kill you in heels.
Mom barely graduated from a regular high school. She spent most of her youth working, sacrificing, raising us. She didn't have any special talents. But she had something most people lacked: willpower. The kind that made you stand back up even when life hit you with a flying roundhouse kick to the face.
It reminded me of someone.
I used to think Rock Lee — that's me, by the way — was cursed. Born without the ability to use chakra in a world where people shoot fireballs from their hands? Yeah, I was basically a glorified punching bag. But then I met Guy-sensei. The man, the myth, the walking tank of optimism.
He looked at me and said, "Lee, your path is taijutsu."
Which is like telling a fish, "You're going to win this marathon by running." But I believed him. Not just because he could do 500 pushups on his pinkies, but because he believed in me. That kind of faith? It changes you.
So yeah, I worked harder. Trained harder. Endured more pain than I thought was humanly possible. And somehow, I climbed. All because of two things: willpower and determination. And a whole lot of broccoli.
"Mom," I said, "don't stress. We'll talk after school. There's no pressure. Just be you, and you'll do great."
She turned to me with this soft smile that made my heart feel like someone gave it a warm blanket and a mug of cocoa.
"Enjoy school," she said, patting my cheek. "And for heaven's sake, get a girlfriend already. You're handsome enough to cause car accidents."
I almost choked on air. "MOM."
She laughed like she hadn't just said something that made me want to vanish into another dimension. Then she got out, kissed my cheek — betrayal! — and walked toward the admin block with the elegance of someone trying to hide her nerves.
I stepped out after her, adjusting my uniform. And just like every other time I walked into this place, a wave of giggles and enthusiastic greetings hit me like a glitter bomb.
"Song oppa!"
"You look so cool today!"
"Good morning, handsome~!"
It was like living in a K-drama but without the tragic piano music and slow-mo rain scenes. Not that I minded the attention — I mean, I had eyes — but popularity was never my goal. I wasn't here to impress. I was here to improve.
Still, I walked beside Mom like nothing fazed me, answering greetings with nods and smiles, while secretly scanning the crowd.
Shi Woon Yi was somewhere around here. A guy with weirdly innocent energy and the spark of Ki in his system. Someone like me — an outsider trying to break into the world of martial arts through raw grit. Maybe fate had decided it was time I stopped being a lone wolf.
Maybe... this place was the fresh start I didn't know I needed.
And maybe — just maybe — I'd finally find people who saw me for who I really was.
The guy who never gave up.
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If someone had told me I'd spend my morning talking about collapsing skyscrapers and immortal martial artists while sitting on a leather sofa that probably cost more than my entire house, I would've laughed, dropped into a horse stance, and told them to check their chakra alignment.
But here I was, staring at Principal Charles, who looked like the type of guy that could run both a school and an international spy agency on the side. Clean suit. Coffee mug in one hand. Calm but definitely hiding a black belt in verbal judo.
"Good morning, Song Jae Gu. I hope you had a wonderful night," he said, not looking up from his cup.
"Yes, sir," I replied, taking a seat opposite him. "I'm very much satisfied with this arrangement—but if you wouldn't mind, could you tell me about the Murim people living around my area?"
Direct question. No time for fluff. Might Guy always said, "Youth blooms best when nourished by clarity!" So, I followed that.
Charles smiled. A slow, impressed kind of smile. The kind that said, Ah, you're not like the usual meatheads I deal with.
"A good question," he said. "I plan to give you the data today so you'll have the required knowledge of the Murim in Seoul. The rest, you'll learn in time."
Cool. That was one problem handled. But then he swerved the entire conversation like a car in an action movie chase scene.
"Now, what do you think is the limit of our world?"
I blinked. That wasn't even in the same genre of question. One second we're talking neighbors, and now he's asking me the equivalent of How powerful do you think an Immortal is on leg day?
I leaned back, thinking. I had read the scroll. It talked about absorbing Yin and Yang, ruling the world, and stuff that sounded cool—but also suspiciously vague. The kind of thing that could either mean enlightenment... or superpowers.
What's the real limit? That was the question.
In my world, power came from chakra, bloodlines, and fate. But what really decided things was will. That's how Might Guy beat Madara. That's how I survived war.
But here? This wasn't the Elemental Nations. This was Seoul. Skyscrapers, traffic lights, K-pop.
So I gave him my best estimate. "I don't know much about your world yet, sir. But I expect the strongest among your kind should be able to level a city like Seoul at full power."
Charles let out a soft chuckle, like someone reading a fan theory that accidentally hit the mark.
"You've watched too much fiction. Sadly, we can't replicate Dragon Ball. But we can replicate Street Fighter."
"...What?"
He waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, I forget—you might not have seen such things. The strongest person known in the Murim world is called the Immortal Man. Tung Fu Rue. From China. Master of Ki cultivation. Has no clan. Lives peacefully in an urban area."
Okay, that sounded a lot like some wandering sage with main character vibes. I perked up.
"He's around 150 years old, but doesn't look a day past sixty. His strikes are strong enough to collapse a skyscraper. In fact, one did collapse a few years ago. You might've seen it on the news."
I had, actually. But I assumed it was a gas explosion or something boring like that.
Turns out, it was just some guy punching air hard enough to bring down a whole building.
Charles leaned in a bit. "You can meet him if you want. Many go to test their luck. Few return with anything more than bruised pride."
I nodded slowly, letting it sink in. This world wasn't filled with chakra or bijuu or cursed seal jutsu—but it did have warriors. And some of them weren't that far off from the Kage I knew. Maybe they didn't spit fire or summon storms, but collapsing a skyscraper with your fists? That took discipline.
And discipline… was something I understood perfectly.
"Understood, sir," I said, meeting his gaze. "I'll prepare for that day."
Charles sipped his coffee, smiling over the rim. "I thought you might say that."
Note to self: Add "Immortal Man Punches Building" to my mental playlist of motivational training mantras. Right between "Guy Sensei Opens Eighth Gate" and "Naruto Eats 500 Bowls of Ramen."