Chapter Forty-Four: The Prajna Palm

The Myosen Academy today was vastly different from yesterday—not because the environment had changed, but because people were steadily entering through the large bronze gates. It was anything but the lonely and desolate scene of the day before.

All these newcomers were dressed like ordinary students; some carried backpacks and water bottles, wearing oversized glasses. A few girls even wore cool shorts, flaunting their graceful figures without restraint.

Though they appeared to be just regular students heading to class, Zhao Rui did not dare underestimate them. If his guess was correct, these were senior members of the East Qi University Martial Arts Team.

“Don’t recognize you, huh?”

As Zhao Rui walked toward the meditation hall, two boys called out to him. One had neatly parted hair that reached his ears, silky and flowing, with a handsome face that resembled a character from an anime. The other was burly, his muscular lines well-defined, wearing a simple tank top that emphasized his broad pectoral muscles.

“Greetings, senior brothers. I’m a freshman who joined the team just yesterday,” Zhao Rui quickly stopped and said to them.

“A new recruit?” The boy with the parted hair looked surprised, frowning as he glanced at his companion, who also seemed puzzled. Then he said, “Oh, that’s strange! Have you reported to Teacher Wang?”

“Yes, I registered yesterday!” Zhao Rui replied.

“Well, we’ll talk inside the meditation hall,” the parted-hair boy nodded, and the two proceeded inside.

Zhao Rui pursed his lips but followed after a few steps.

Minutes later, inside the main hall of the meditation temple, Zhao Rui stood obediently at the edge of the group, waiting with over twenty others in the center.

After a while, Teacher Wang shuffled over in slippers, lazily glancing at the group. Noticing Zhao Rui somewhat isolated at the edge, he paused in surprise, then seemed to recall he was the new recruit from yesterday’s registration. Clearing his throat, he said, “We have a new member in the martial arts team; everyone give him a warm welcome. What’s your name again?”

“Teacher Wang, my name is Zhao Rui!” Zhao Rui responded clearly.

“Ah, right, Zhao Rui.” Teacher Wang muttered, then addressed the team, “Everyone, follow your established training goals and get started. If there’s nothing else, you’re dismissed!”

With that, Teacher Wang waved to Zhao Rui, took the schedule Zhao Rui handed him, and called out to a corner of the hall, “Wang Zhe, come here.”

Upon hearing his name, the boy Zhao Rui had met earlier—nicknamed “Mitsui Hisashi”—quickly approached.

“Zhao Rui will temporarily join your team. His situation is special; he’s not from the Martial Arts Institute. Take him under your wing,” Teacher Wang instructed.

“Understood, coach!” Wang Zhe promptly replied.

Teacher Wang then looked at Zhao Rui and said, “Your master can only guide you to the door; cultivation depends on yourself. Don’t think joining the martial arts team means you’ll learn some profound technique right away. You have to refine and study on your own.”

“Yes, thank you for your guidance, coach! I will remember your teachings!” Zhao Rui responded earnestly.

“Alright, off you go. For now, follow Wang Zhe and practice the basic techniques of East Qi University’s martial arts,” Teacher Wang said, shuffling lazily toward the office desk at the hall’s corner.

“Let’s go, junior brother. I’ll help you get familiar with our martial arts team!” Wang Zhe said, beckoning Zhao Rui outside.

As they walked, Wang Zhe explained the team’s background.

The East Qi Martial Arts Team, also known as the East Qi Martial Arts Institute, was founded in 1935. It was initially established at the invitation of the school’s founder by the revered Buddhist master Wen Hui, who temporarily organized the team.

Despite enduring wars and foreign invasions, the team persevered through blood and tears and has nearly a century of history.

The martial arts teachings include the Buddhist martial arts passed down from Master Wen Hui, as well as numerous other styles collected by successive instructors.

Later, when authorities relaxed restrictions on mid- and low-level martial arts, allowing universities to establish research teams, the institute’s martial arts progressed significantly.

“Our team won second place nationally last year, ranking thirteenth. It’s a decent achievement,” Wang Zhe said.

“I hear you’re not from the Martial Arts Institute? You must be strong in combat, but as training advances, the demand for inner energy increases…” Despite his flowing hair, Wang Zhe spoke with surprising patience.

“Senior brother, does the team need sparring partners? I’m still a beginner but can help with training!” Zhao Rui offered thoughtfully.

“Sparring partner? You?” Wang Zhe was momentarily stunned, then smiled brightly. “No problem. Good kid, you’re on the right track. Don’t worry—I’m not irresponsible.”

“Uh…” Zhao Rui wondered what he meant by ‘not irresponsible,’ but as long as he could spar, that was enough.

Given his talent, Zhao Rui doubted he could learn the institute’s martial arts without sparring.

As they chatted, Wang Zhe brought Zhao Rui into his circle—a group of seven, five boys and two girls.

Besides the burly boy and Wang Zhe, three others were nondescript, blending into the student crowd.

The two senior sisters were quite attractive—not stunning, but with good temperament and excellent figures.

Their bodies, honed by martial arts training, were lithe, firm, and elastic—distinct from the loose flesh of untrained people.

No wonder ancient villains had such a fondness for female warriors!

After brief introductions, Zhao Rui learned the sisters’ names were Peng Xinnan and Li Shuwen.

As for the senior brothers’ names, he would remember them when needed.

“To be honest, no one from outside the institute has ever joined our team—not because they can’t pass, but even if they do, they don’t last and fail the assessments,” Wang Zhe said.

“Every year, the team holds evaluations, and those who don’t meet standards are eliminated. We started with twelve members but lost five—that’s a pretty high rate.”

Looking around, Wang Zhe continued, “Don’t get arrogant just because you passed once. If you don’t meet standards next year, you’ll be eliminated too.”

“Yes, senior brother!” The group responded in unison.

Zhao Rui hadn’t expected such a high dropout rate—even among the institute’s elite.

Tsk, tsk, it seemed he had a long road ahead.

After some talk, Wang Zhe called Zhao Rui aside. After exchanging WeChat contacts, he sent him a file.

“This is our institute’s Prajna Palm technique. Practice it first, and if you have questions, ask me.”

“Ah, I practice on my own?” Zhao Rui was surprised. Although self-study wasn’t unusual, having a ‘master’ and still training alone felt a bit odd.

“We all practice on our own. This palm technique, also called the Wheel of Wisdom, combines martial arts with Zen cultivation. You’ll understand once you start practicing,” Wang Zhe smiled.

Zhao Rui didn’t fully grasp it but decided to follow his senior’s advice.

“Our martial arts team has few rules. The main rule is no internal fighting; violators are expelled immediately.”

“Of course, internal sparring is allowed. If there’s conflict, settle it in the arena. Simple and clear.”

Zhao Rui nodded quickly—this was a good rule. As martial artists, they were used to asserting dominance through strength.

Too much preaching would only be counterproductive.

Still, when teachers were present, reason had to prevail.