At the reception desk, a young man who looked to be in his early twenties sat staring at his personal terminal, looking rather bored.
"Hello, I’m here to apply for a coaching position."
Qin Feng’s voice was calm.
"Oh, hello."
The young man looked up. When he saw Qin Feng, his eyes lit up, and he stood to greet him enthusiastically. "Please, have a seat. We have openings for Level One to Three coaching positions. Which one are you interested in...?"
"The Sun Chan Hall Master, has he... been back?"
Qin Feng cut him off, asking the question that concerned him most.
The young man paused, seeming to rack his brain for the somewhat distant name.
"Old Master Sun... The seniors at the Martial Arts Hall say he came back once, over thirty years ago. He only stayed for a few days before leaving again."
Over thirty years ago.
Qin Feng calculated silently. ’That was right around the time Master Sun taught me the rudiments of the Ten-Complete Hand.’
"Ah, I see."
Qin Feng nodded, pulling himself from his thoughts. "I’d like to register."
The young man pulled up the application form on the terminal. "Okay, and your name and Martial Dao level?"
"Name, Qin Feng."
"Power, Seventh-Level Mountain and Sea Martial Artist."
Qin Feng’s tone was as casual as if he were saying, "I had a bowl of noodles for lunch."
"Okay, Qin Feng... Seventh-Level... Mountain and..."
The young man’s fingers flew across the light screen as he unconsciously repeated the words.
However, when the six words—"Seventh-Level Mountain and Sea Martial Artist"—fully registered in his brain, his entire body went rigid in an instant.
"Huh?"
"Sir, you’re a Seventh-Level Mountain and Sea Martial Artist?!"
’A titan like him is applying for a basic coaching position in our little pond?’
"Sir, this is too small a place for you! We can’t afford you!"
Sweat had already broken out on the young man’s face, and his voice trembled as he spoke.
"It’s fine. I don’t need a salary."
Qin Feng could see his distress and said gently, "Just consider it me helping out. If we have to follow protocol, a symbolic salary of three thousand Imperial Coins a month will do."
He paused, then added, "I owe a debt of gratitude to Master Sun from long ago."
"Oh... Oh! So that’s why!"
Hearing the name "Master Sun" gave the young man a logical anchor for the whole situation. An expression of dawning comprehension and reverence spread across his face.
’So he’s an old friend of the Old Master, here to repay a debt of gratitude! That explains everything!’
"Right, right! No problem at all!"
He scrambled to pick up the light-screen pen and, with utmost deference, quickly completed Qin Feng’s registration. "Sir, you can start tomorrow! No, no, you can come in whenever you’d like! We won’t schedule you for any mandatory private tutoring. It’s all up to you!"
"Excellent."
Qin Feng nodded, got up, and left the Extreme Martial Arts Hall.
Only the last few hundred meters of the walk home remained.
He took out an old-fashioned key from his Subspace Storage Unit—one he hadn’t used in decades—and opened the front door. A familiar scent washed over him, a mixture of faint cooking oil and his father’s unique smell.
The house was furnished almost exactly as it had been when he left decades ago.
The slightly worn-out sofa, his father’s favorite teacup on the coffee table, his junior high and high school graduation photos on the wall... everything was imbued with the rich patina of life.
His father had never moved.
This place had always been his roots.
Qin Feng didn’t go to disturb his father at work. He simply sat quietly on the sofa, letting himself melt into this peaceful haven.
He opened his personal terminal and connected to the private network of Planet Qiming.
In the regional section of the Empire’s quest system, he saw a familiar notice again.
[Qiming First Martial Arts High School is hiring practical combat instructors of all levels. Requirements: ...]
Seeing the name "Qiming First High School," the faces of his three mentors—Lin Yue, Gu Yue, and Wu Shangfeng—surfaced in his mind one after another.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled up his profile and submitted his application.
Once that was done, he shut down the terminal, closed his eyes, and waited.
Waiting for night to fall. Waiting for the sound of familiar footsteps.
An unknown amount of time passed. Then, as the clock struck six in the evening, the crisp jingle of keys came from the hallway, followed by two familiar voices.
One was the hearty laughter of his father, Qin Dahai.
"Old Wu, I really owe you one for watching the production line today. Otherwise, I’d never have had the time to put together this farewell dinner for you.
"Come on, we have to have a few drinks tonight. This is a celebratory feast to send you off to your new post!"
The other voice was calmer. "But of course. You cooked yourself, so I have to eat my fill.
"Speaking of which, my transfer to the main plant as deputy director is largely thanks to your son Qin Feng’s reputation. Nowadays, who on all of Planet Qiming doesn’t know that the Qin Family produced an incredible prodigy?"
It was the voice of Director Wu.
"Hahaha, that kid..."
CLICK. The door was pushed open.
The cheerful conversation outside the door came to an abrupt halt.
Qin Dahai and Director Wu appeared in the doorway.
As their eyes traveled past the entryway and fell upon the tall figure sitting silently on the living room sofa, both men froze.
The air seemed to freeze in that instant.
"Ah... Ah Feng?!"
Qin Dahai’s eyes flew wide in an instant.
The expression on his face shifted from astonishment to disbelief, finally melting into unparalleled joy.