Sun Shi looked around, a profound sense of unfamiliarity settling over him. Every corner of the sect, from the sprawling training grounds to the serene courtyards and bustling dormitories, was exclusively populated by women. Their faces, young and old, held varying expressions – curiosity, disdain, or a stark, unsettling wariness – but all of them were directed at him, the sole male presence. He had anticipated an all-female sect, having heard tales in his past life, but the reality of being an absolute anomaly in this tightly-knit community was a distinct sensation. The very air seemed to hum with feminine energy, a stark contrast to the rough-and-tumble martial brotherhoods he was accustomed to.
A clear, commanding voice cut through the soft murmurs of the disciples. Master Guan, her elegant figure moving with an almost ethereal grace, went to the Sect Center. She clapped her hands, and the various training groups paused, their attention snapping to her. "Today," she announced, her voice carrying across the wide space, "I brought us a servant who will assist with the mundane tasks: cleaning the training grounds and carrying the heavy weights." Her gaze briefly flickered to Sun Shi, a hint of something unreadable in her wise eyes.
The Absolute Rose Sect was clearly dedicated to its training, boasting a formidable array of equipment: heavy stone weights, intricately carved wooden dummies, thick sandbags, and various training apparatuses designed for strength and conditioning. However, the sect, in a tradition stretching back half a century, had fiercely refused to have any men within its hallowed grounds. This meant that for fifty years, the physically demanding tasks of cleaning, maintaining, and rearranging the heavy training equipment had fallen to the women themselves. The younger disciples, many still developing their strength and stamina, had a genuinely hard time with these chores. It was evident in their slightly dishevelled appearances and the quiet sighs of exhaustion Sun Shi had already observed.
Sun Shi, accustomed to formal introductions in his previous life, offered a polite bow. "My honor to meet you all," he replied, his young voice clear despite the size of the gathering. Yet, his words were met with silence, save for the faint rustle of robes. The disciples merely gave him cold, wary looks, their gazes lingering on his small frame, weighing him, judging him. Not a single smile or nod of welcome was offered. It was a stark reminder of his place here – an outsider, and a peculiar one at that.
After the terse introduction, Master Guan gave a subtle gesture, and the disciples swiftly, almost without a sound, dispersed to their training positions, resuming their routines with renewed focus. Master Guan turned to Sun Shi, a faint, sympathetic smile touching her lips. "You'll get used to it, don't worry," she said, her voice soft, understanding the unspoken tension in the air.
Sun Shi, despite the initial chill, maintained his composure. "I do hope so," he replied, a faint, almost imperceptible wryness in his tone. He hoped his intuition about this sect, about its hidden depths, would prove true.
Master Guan nodded, her eyes twinkling slightly. "Well then, get ready. I'll meet you at the training grounds shortly. I have something to show you."
"Yes, Master Guan," Sun Shi responded, bowing respectfully. Their eyes met for a brief moment, a silent understanding passing between the ancient master and the young-looking boy who carried the soul of a veteran.
Sun Shi spent a few moments preparing, gathering himself mentally for whatever awaited him. He then made his way to the main training grounds, where Master Guan was already waiting. The morning sun cast long shadows, and the air was crisp, carrying the scent of newly cut grass and the faint tang of metal.
Master Guan gestured to a clearing where several disciples were practicing a series of fluid, precise movements. "Take a look, young one," she instructed, her voice filled with quiet pride. "This is the martial art of the Absolute Rose Sect, the Scarlet Freedom Form."
Sun Shi's gaze immediately sharpened. As he watched the disciples, a strange sense of familiarity washed over him, like a half-forgotten dream resurfacing. The footwork, the economy of motion, the close-quarters trapping hands, the directness of the strikes – it was undeniable. He recognized it, every nuanced shift and compact block. A soft gasp escaped his lips, barely audible. "Wing Chun," he mumbled, the name from his past life echoing in the quiet morning air.
Master Guan paused her observation of her students, her head tilting slightly. "Pardon?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
Sun Shi quickly recovered, forcing a neutral expression. "Nothing, Master Guan," he replied, trying to sound casual. "Just admiring your martial art. It is very direct and graceful." He couldn't risk revealing too much of his knowledge, not yet. The Murim world already contained so many surprises; the presence of Wing Chun here was just another layer.
Master Guan smiled, a genuine warmth spreading across her face. "Thank you. You have a keen eye for its essence. It was developed by the founder of this sect, who is revered as the first sect master of Absolute Rose Sect."
Sun Shi's mind raced. Could it be? He dared to ask, "What is the name of the first sect master?"
Master Guan shook her head gently, a hint of wistfulness in her expression. "We don't know her true name. The first sect master had only a nickname: Mui. It is said that this style was taken inspiration from the snake and crane styles, emphasizing soft and hard, close-quarters combat."
"I see," Sun Shi replied, his internal world alight with revelation. Mui. Snake and crane. It was too much to be a coincidence. This world, with its Chi, its sects, and its unique martial arts, held unexpected echoes of his own past. Perhaps he wasn't as alone as he thought.
Master Guan then said, "Well then, I'll see you later at dinner. For now, you can begin familiarizing yourself with the sect grounds and your duties."
Sun Shi bowed deeply to Master Guan. "I'll see you later too, Master Guan," he said, his mind already buzzing with new thoughts and questions.
The rest of the day was spent carrying heavy buckets of water to the dormitories, scrubbing dirt from training mats, and meticulously arranging weapon racks. It was tiresome work for a child's body, but Sun Shi performed it without complaint, his focus unwavering. As he cleaned, he discreetly observed the various disciples, taking mental notes on their forms, their discipline, and their chi cultivation levels. Many were still raw, unrefined, but he saw flashes of potential.
As he was sweeping near a courtyard later in the afternoon, someone called to him, the voice sharp and impatient. "Hey, Servant!"
He turned to see where the voice came from; it was a short girl with a high ponytail, her expression demanding. She seemed to be one of the younger, perhaps less experienced, disciples, but she carried herself with an air of authority. "Yes?" Sun Shi asked, trying to sound obliging.
The girl huffed. "I can't find my Mook Jong dummy. It must have been moved for cleaning. You're strong enough, right? Stand there and put your hands forward and your legs in position." She gestured impatiently to a spot in the courtyard.
Sun Shi, somewhat amused by her audacity, obliged. He knew this was a basic training method for Wing Chun – a human dummy was far less forgiving than a wooden one. He adopted the stable, rooted stance, putting his hands forward, ready. The girl clearly thought this was an imposition, a way to show him his place. Sun Shi, however, saw an opportunity.
The girl began to attack, striking the air around him, practicing her forms. Sun Shi recognized the movements immediately—it was indeed Section 3 of Wing Chun, the Bil Jee or "Thrusting Fingers" form, though her execution was shaky. She completed her sequence with a flourish, her small chest puffed out. "How about that, huh? Too fast for you?" she boasted, clearly expecting him to be overwhelmed.
Sun Shi, despite himself, couldn't help but speak. His past life's instincts as a grandmaster, as a teacher, overruled his current role. "Your hand was in the wrong position in the last hit," he said, calmly but precisely. "It's supposed to be on the right, not on the left. You lose your centerline if you extend that far."
The girl's face flushed crimson with anger, her ponytail practically bristling. "What the hell do you know about it?!" she snapped, her frustration boiling over. She launched a swift, frustrated strike directly at Sun Shi's stomach, intending to make him flinch.
Sun Shi instinctively blocked it with a subtle yet firm parry, the contact barely jarring his arm. "I was just giving feedback," he said, his tone still even, even as she visibly seethed. The girl, unable to control her mounting rage, let out a frustrated growl and, fuming, stormed out of the courtyard, leaving him standing there.
It was now late night. The sect was mostly quiet, illuminated by the gentle glow of lanterns. Sun Shi, after finishing his duties, went to a nearby, secluded hill just beyond the sect walls and began cultivating. The spiritual energy in this world was potent, and he wanted to make the most of every moment.
Mid-meditation, he heard a rhythmic thudding sound—a wooden dummy being struck with consistent, powerful blows. He recognized the sound; it was the same girl from earlier. Curiosity piqued, he stealthily followed the sound, making his way through a cluster of thick bushes to get a better view.
There, bathed in the soft glow of a single lantern, was the girl, furiously practicing her Wing Chun forms on a wooden Mook Jong. She was moving with surprising speed, clearly putting her full effort into it, though her form still wasn't perfect. Sun Shi watched, noting her errors and the areas where she truly excelled, a silent critique forming in his mind.
After watching closely for several minutes, absorbed in her movements, he shifted slightly in his hiding spot. A loose branch snapped under his foot. He cursed silently as he slipped and fell out of his hiding spot, tumbling clumsily onto the clearing's edge.
The girl instantly spun around, her eyes wide with alarm. Out of pure instinct, she launched herself forward, striking at Sun Shi with a rapid, open-palm strike. He reacted just as quickly, blocking it effortlessly with a precise deflection. The girl froze, her attack stopped dead. She was genuinely surprised, her eyes widening even further as she recognized him.
"Oh, it was you!" she snapped, her voice filled with a mixture of shock and renewed irritation. "What the hell are you creeping out in that bush for?!"
"I am not," Sun Shi replied calmly, rising to his feet and dusting off his robes. "I just heard the sounds of training."
Before the girl could even say another word, her gaze fixed on Sun Shi's stance. In the brief moment of his block, before he had fully regained his footing, he had unconsciously adopted the opening posture of the Scarlet Freedom Form—a posture she herself had practiced countless times. It was undeniable. Her anger momentarily forgotten, replaced by a dawning comprehension, she breathed, "That form..."
Sun Shi realized his mistake immediately. The grandmaster's instincts, so deeply ingrained, had betrayed his current identity. He quickly changed his stance, hoping to play it off. "That was nothing," he said dismissively, trying to appear nonchalant.
But the girl wasn't fooled. Her eyes narrowed, no longer cold with disdain but sharp with suspicion. She grabbed Sun Shi by the neck of his clothes, her grip surprisingly strong for her small size. Her voice was low, laced with a dangerous intensity. "How do you know Scarlet Freedom Form? Who are you?"