"I’m sorry, are you a friend of Max?" Talia asked, her voice carrying a hint of genuine curiosity mixed with caution.
Under normal circumstances, the students in the business department were a relatively insular group, mostly only knowing those they shared lectures with. It was slightly different for Talia and Yovan, as they had both attended the same high school and brought their own social history to the university, but they knew one thing for certain: the man standing in front of them was definitely not part of the business department. He had a different air about him, steadier, more focused.
"Not friends, exactly," the man replied, offering a polite, practiced nod. "My name is Eric. I’m from the foreign martial arts department. Specifically, I focus on Wushu. Max expressed a serious interest in joining our club, and since our official activities are scheduled to begin next week, I thought I’d track him down to talk to him more about the curriculum and what he can expect."
"Max was actually interested in joining a Wushu club!" Steve interjected, his eyes lighting up with a sudden, fervent intensity.
"Oh, calm down, Steve," Yovan commented, her tongue as sharp as ever. "If you ask me, the only people who join those kinds of clubs are either thugs who like hitting people or losers who are tired of getting bullied and think they can finally one-up everyone after a few lessons."
She knew exactly why Steve was getting so worked up. He was desperately searching for any shred of evidence to support his theory that their quiet classmate was the same legendary Max Smith from the Notting Hill rumors. To Steve, a martial arts connection was the smoking gun he had been waiting for.
"Believe me, it’s about much more than that," Eric said, unfazed by Yovan’s cynicism. "People have various reasons for learning a martial art. For some, it’s purely for self-defense; for others, it’s a way to socialize, a form of disciplined exercise, or a path to learning more about themselves while mastering a new skill. You all should come by for a few sessions. You might find you enjoy it more than you think."
Yovan clearly wanted to snap back with another spiteful remark, but the words died in her throat. Eric was being remarkably nice, and the genuine, easy smile on his face made it difficult for even her to maintain her hostile front. However, the peaceful moment didn’t last.
"What’s this? So you’re some kind of big-shot martial artist, then?" a booming voice sneered from the side.
The group turned to see one of the senior members of the event committee approaching. He was clearly from one of the sports departments, and based on the way he was swaying slightly, he had already had a few too many drinks.
"You know, I’m from the Judo Club," the senior said, jabbing a thumb into his own chest. "And to be honest, I think all that kung fu business, or whatever you call that dancing, is a total load of crap."
The senior’s loud, aggressive voice was quickly catching the attention of the other guests. Even Donto, who had been lounging at the bar with a small entourage of sycophants, stopped his conversation to look over. A few of the other seniors were smiling, watching the confrontation unfold with predatory interest.
"It looks like Charlie is going to start another one," one of the seniors dressed in a blue athletic jacket noted. He had his arms crossed and was standing remarkably close to Donto. This was Sono, a member of the university’s rugby club. Despite not having a massive, hulking build, Sono was known for his explosive speed and deceptive, extreme strength.
"Hey, so if you practice those fake martial arts, why don’t you try fighting me?" Charlie challenged, stepping into Eric’s personal space. "We can put on a little show for the freshmen. You can finally use those ’skills’ you’ve been wasting your years on."
Eric shook his head slowly, his expression remaining calm. "I’m sorry, but I don’t practice my martial arts for entertainment or ego. I do it for personal growth, or if there is a genuine, unavoidable need for it in real life."
"A real need, huh?" Charlie barked.
Without warning, the drunk senior threw a heavy, swinging fist toward Eric’s head. Eric didn’t even flinch; he moved with a fluid grace, his hand snapping up to parry the strike away with ease. He stepped to the side, and Charlie’s momentum carried him forward. The senior stumbled, nearly crashing into Talia and Yovan, until Eric reached out with lightning reflexes, grabbing the back of Charlie’s shirt and pulling him back to a standing position.
"I’m sorry," Eric said, turning to the freshmen. "It looks like you guys nearly got hurt because of this situation."
"No, it’s fine! It’s clearly not your fault," Talia said, her eyes wide. Both Steve and Yovan looked equally impressed. Eric was clearly a nice person, but he was also undeniably skillful.
"You... so you actually want to fight after all!" Charlie shouted, his face turning red with embarrassment and rage. He squared his shoulders and brought both of his fists up to his sides in a clumsy stance.
Eric let out a long, weary sigh. "I guess this won’t be over until I deal with the situation. You seem to be exactly that type of person."
Eric moved forward, closing the distance before Charlie could react. The senior went for a desperate grab, but before his hands could even reach Eric’s jacket, Eric’s hands became a blur. He unleashed a series of rapid-fire strikes in multiple successions, his fists moving straight out from his body one after the other in a rhythmic, punishing cadence.
The strikes landed with a series of sharp thuds, once on Charlie’s face, once on his chin, and continuing down his body without Eric even pausing to take a breath. When the blur of movement finally stopped, Charlie stood frozen for a second before his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed in a heap right on the bowling alley floor.
"Oh?" Donto said, a sharp, cold smile spreading across his face as he pushed himself off the bowling machine he had been leaning against. "It looks like we finally found someone we actually need to deal with tonight."