"A spar? I don't think that's a good idea! What if I hurt our guest? Don't let my appearance fool you; I may look like an ordinary university student, but my strikes are very heavy!"
The little tiger practicing in the backyard, Waai Fu, shook her hands dismissively after hearing the request from Old Lee and Denji.
"It's fine, really!" Denji insisted, looking like a sincere student. "Just go all out, don't hold back. Don't let my appearance fool you either; I'm incredibly durable and I heal fast. It doesn't matter if you hit me hard."
Denji had been a Devil Hunter since he was barely old enough to understand the world. He didn't even know how many times this body had been mangled or how many battles he'd survived. In terms of stamina, he could hack away at the Eternity Devil for three days and three nights. In terms of toughness, on his first day of training with Kishibe, he died and came back over twenty times just to get fast enough to beat Katana Man.
To become a "star," how can you manage without taking a few hits? Denji thumped his solid chest, telling Waai Fu not to pity him and to give it everything she had.
An expert like Waai Fu could see that his physique was seasoned by actual life-and-death combat. "I truly want to learn real kung fu. Please, instruct me!" Denji pleaded again.
Seeing his resolve and the obsession with martial arts in his eyes, Waai Fu felt a surge of kinship, like finding a kindred spirit in a distant land.
"Alright then! I'm going to be serious, so be careful!"
With that, the little tiger settled into a Plum Blossom Wing Chun starting stance. As she sank her shoulders and dropped her elbows, the gentle elegance of the intellectual student vanished, replaced by the suffocating pressure of a true master.
Old Lee pulled up a classic Lungmen-style plastic stool and sat down to watch intently. The saying "Martial arts reflect character" might be an oversimplification, but a person's style and ruthlessness do reveal their heart.
Do they show mercy when they have the upper hand?
Do they grow reckless and desperate when suppressed?
Can they accept defeat with grace?
Lee didn't care if Denji was the "Chainsaw Killer"—whoever he killed probably had it coming. But he cared deeply if Denji was a Reunion plant looking to destabilize Lungmen. That was a matter of fundamental allegiance.
The spar began, and it quickly became a one-sided affair.
In Great Yan, Waai Fu's skills were enough to land her on the first page of the rankings in Yumen, a city famous for its martial prowess. Against ordinary people, she was a goddess of war; on the scale of the entire continent, she was comfortably second or third-tier.
In Denji's estimation, this "ordinary student's" strikes were perhaps heavier than Kishibe's, and her physical density was higher—comparable to a non-transformed Quanxi. Since it was a spar, Denji couldn't transform. He had to rely on his primal hunting instincts and the brief window of training Kishibe had given him.
Even with her clearly holding back, he was quickly battered. But Denji's endurance was no joke. Even without transforming, he could recover while taking hits, shouting, "I can take more! Don't stop!"
It actually started to make Waai Fu feel a bit excited.
Denji truly wanted to improve his skills to survive this cruel land and find his friends. Waai Fu, meanwhile, wanted to prove her path to her father. She was rarely challenged in Lungmen and had never found such a durable "sandbag" as Denji.
By the time Waai Fu was using 70% of her strength, the explosive Fa Jin in her punches was sending Denji back several steps, coughing up blood. But his external injuries healed almost instantly. When the beating got too intense, he'd signal for a brief pause, pull a sealed "energy drink" from his inner coat pocket, take a few deep draws through a straw, and immediately reseal it to keep the scent from spreading.
Old Lee and Waai Fu assumed it was some expensive elite healing potion. They had no idea what was actually inside the packaging.
"Again! Again!"
Once she confirmed she really didn't need to hold back, the primal ferocity buried under Waai Fu's high education and polite personality was finally unleashed. She rained down attacks like a torrential storm. Denji gave it his all, growing through the pain, eventually managing to keep up with her rhythm.
Under the high-intensity exchange, even a Terran like Waai Fu—known for superior racial stamina—began to tire, allowing Denji to occasionally land a "sneak" move. But Old Lee noticed that Denji never followed through with a heavy blow against the girl.
This kid isn't bad at heart, Lee thought. And he's truly obsessed with the Way. Reminds me of that old friend of mine... though this kid's attitude toward women is much more human than that guy's.
Thinking of Denji's devotion to finding Reze, and then thinking of his own friend who abandoned his wife and daughter, Lee couldn't help but sigh.
"Seven-Strike Forest Kick!"
As Waai Fu grew more serious, she unleashed a finishing move that sent Denji flying. He slammed into the backyard wall, leaving an indent. Waai Fu rushed over, apologizing profusely, and spent a good while prying him out of the masonry.
Old Lee's heart skipped a beat—not out of concern for Denji, but out of fear that he'd lose the repair costs and the rest of the commission.
But Denji was Denji. Drenched in sweat, he took another swig of his "energy drink," rested for a moment, and declared he was fine. Waai Fu didn't dare fight anymore, and the two sat down to rest. Lee handed them both cups of warm, healthy tea and sat next to Denji, asking casually:
"Your constitution is extraordinary, guest. You mentioned amnesia earlier—do you think it's related to Oripathy or Originium Arts?"
Lee used the opening to chat, gauging Denji's views on the Infected. Denji, having crammed some local knowledge from A-Fa, wasn't a total novice anymore. To him, the Infected—who gained power without a staff at the cost of their lives—were a lot like Devil Hunters who made contracts with Devils.
"They didn't choose to be Infected or be outcasts, did they?" Denji said, speaking from the heart.
Lee's eyes flickered. "Then do you think they have the right to take revenge on those who discriminate against them?"
Denji frowned, thinking hard. He'd seen people shun him out of fear of Devils, and he knew how dangerous the Infected were. It wasn't just a disease; they were walking time bombs that exploded upon death. Who wouldn't be afraid?
"Given how dangerous Oripathy is, it's normal for regular people to be scared," Denji said, drawing on the humanitarian education he'd once received. "So, the Infected don't need to beg for approval. They should form their own groups and keep their distance. But they can't let themselves be bullied; they need enough 'deterrence' so the bigots don't dare mess with them."
He paused, feeling his ideas were a bit too idealistic, then hit the core of the conflict:
"Besides, the spread of Oripathy isn't the fault of the Infected, nor the fault of the regular people. It's the rulers of these countries who rely on Originium. They force workers to handle it and abuse Originium products—that's why new Infected keep appearing!"
Old Lee nodded repeatedly. "Your insight is quite good. But unfortunately, no ruler will ever give up Originium as a resource."
Denji waved a hand, understanding the phenomenon perfectly. Oil in his old world, pieces of the Gun Devil or the heart of the Chainsaw Devil in his original life—weren't they all things that nations fought over? As long as humans exist, they will fight over resources.
However, Denji had a solution he couldn't say out loud: If there's really an 'Oripathy Devil' in this world, I could just turn into Pochita and eat it. Then the problem would be gone, wouldn't it?
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