Within the quiet of his private office, Master Yuan opened a low drawer from his desk. From it, he retrieved two items: a thick, hand-bound book with leather covers worn by time, and a small, lacquered box sealed with talismans.
"These," he said, placing them on the table, "are yours now, Lin Hao."
Lin Hao stepped forward, eyes wide.
"This book," the old master continued, tapping the larger one, "contains my personal notes on physical cultivation. It isn't a heavenly technique—but it is grounded, stable, and strong. A foundation for the body."
Lin Hao touched the surface of the book with both hands. The cover held no title. Inside, the first page was written in smooth, elegant strokes.
'To walk the martial path, first master the vessel that carries you.'
Master Yuan gestured to the smaller box.
"These are medicinal herbs and powders. You must soak in them for thirty minutes, once every three days. It will strengthen your tendons, bones, and circulation."
He looked directly into Lin Hao's eyes.
"Start now. You are five, and that is early—but not too early. With the right discipline, your body will surpass the limits of a normal person."
Lin Hao's expression didn't change, but deep within, his heart surged.
"And this," Yuan added, lifting a much thinner book, "is a basic primer on ancient relics. Shapes, markings, forgeries, elemental traces. Study it. When you finish it, return to me. You will not move forward as my disciple until you've absorbed every page."
Lin Hao nodded firmly. "I will."
Master Yuan smiled.
"You already are."
The ride home was quiet.
Lin Hao held the two books and the sealed box in his lap, nestled in the crook of his arms. His father walked beside him, silent and stiff, carrying a small bag—inside it, a crystal coin card backed by the museum's vaults. Fifty million silver coins. A number too large to understand.
His mother still looked back toward the museum every few steps, as if expecting the ground to open and swallow them.
When they reached home, his father gently closed the door behind them. No one spoke for a while.
Finally, Lin Hao looked up.
"Dad?"
His father blinked. "Yes, son?"
"Now that we have money… will you stop working at the factory?"
He hesitated.
"I… I don't know."
"You said before," Lin Hao said gently, "if we had treasure, we'd both train. You'd stop working so hard. We'd become warriors together."
His father scratched his head, still unsure. "I did say that."
Lin Hao grinned. "Then let's do it."
He reached into his satchel and pulled out the large book Master Yuan had given him.
"I already have my first manual. You can borrow it after me."
His father stared at it for a long moment.
Then smiled.
"I suppose… I could start with some light training."
He ruffled Lin Hao's hair.
"No promises, little warrior. But maybe… just maybe."
Lin Hao laughed.
I'll hold you to it, Dad.