“Before you turn twenty-eight, even if people humiliate you, even if they beat you, even if everyone thinks you’re useless… you must never reveal what you can do.”

Those were my grandfather’s final words.

For ten years, I obeyed them.

But that morning, lying in the mud while enemy footsteps drew closer and my comrades waited for an almost certain death, I finally understood something.

A promise to a dead man could not be worth more than eleven living lives.

I slowly raised my head.

“Captain Tran.”

Tran Ve Quoc looked at me from behind the embankment.

“What?”

I pushed myself onto my knees.

Trieu Thiet Tru immediately grabbed my uniform.

“Are you insane?! Get down!”

I removed his hand.

“Squad leader… lend me your knife.”

Everyone stared at me.

Thiet Tru blinked.

“What for?”

“So I can bring it back.”

For two seconds, nobody understood.

Then Ly Manh gave a bitter laugh.

“Hua Bac, did you hit your head? There are more than twenty of them.”

“I know.”

“And you’re the guy who gets thrown around by new recruits.”

“I know that too.”

Thiet Tru gripped my shoulder so hard it hurt.

“Don’t do anything stupid. If we go down, we go down together.”

I looked at him.

For five years, this man had called me Noodle Legs.

For five years, he had dragged me through runs whenever I finished last.

For five years, we had shared meals, cigarettes, night watches, and every miserable training session.

I smiled.

“Squad leader… I think you’re going to need a new nickname for me after today.”

His expression changed.

Before he could stop me, I planted one hand on the ground and stood.

A shadow appeared between the trees.

Then another.

Then another.

The men closing the circle advanced with terrifying confidence. They knew our ammunition was nearly gone.

One shouted something in a foreign language.

Another laughed.

Captain Tran clenched his jaw.

“Hua Bac! Get back here!”

I ignored him.

I stepped out from cover.

One step.

Then another.

I could feel eleven pairs of eyes burning into my back.

The nearest enemy spotted me.

He froze, probably stunned that an apparently unarmed soldier was walking directly toward them.

He raised his weapon.

And at that moment…

I stopped holding back.

Grandfather had always said that the true essence of Tai Chi was not speed.

It was understanding a movement before it had even finished beginning.

The shoulder.

The waist.

The direction of the eyes.

The center of gravity.

For five years, I had pretended not to notice those things.

I had allowed recruits to throw me to the ground.

I had deliberately slowed my running.

I had controlled my breathing so I would appear exhausted.

Even during physical examinations, I calculated exactly how badly I needed to perform without making anyone suspicious.

But now there was no reason to hide.

The man in front of me moved.

So did I.

My comrades saw only my silhouette shift.

A moment later, the attacker lost his balance and crashed into the wet earth.

The jungle became strangely silent.

Trieu Thiet Tru’s mouth fell open.

“What…?”

A second man charged.

I turned.

His momentum carried him past me.

My hand brushed his arm, my shoulder met his chest, and his own force sent him tumbling to the ground.

**Two men.

In only a few seconds.**

“Is that Hua Bac?!” Ly Manh shouted.

I didn’t answer.

Four more were already approaching.

Then it stopped looking like a fight.

It became a storm.

I moved between them while my grandfather’s voice echoed through my memory.

“Never meet strength with strength.”

“Become empty where the enemy is full.”

“Make your opponent fight against his own weight.”

Every movement I had practiced thousands of times returned as though my body had been waiting ten years for this moment.

One attacked.

I redirected him.

Another came from the side.

I retreated half a step.

A third tried to block my escape.

I pivoted.

Shadows crossed.

Bodies collided.

My comrades remained behind the embankment, completely frozen.

The same soldier who supposedly couldn’t complete four pull-ups…

had just opened a path through a ring of more than twenty professionals.

“Captain!” I shouted. “Now!”

Tran Ve Quoc reacted immediately.

“Everyone move! Break through!”

All eleven charged.

The entire situation changed in an instant.

The attackers had expected exhausted soldiers with empty magazines.

They had not expected someone like me.

Trieu Thiet Tru rushed past and knocked one man aside.

“After we survive this, I’m killing you myself!” he roared.

“Why?”

“Five years! I carried you through training for five years!”

I almost laughed.

“We’ll talk later.”

Then I heard it.

A voice.

Distant.

Cold.

“Fall back.”

The enemy stopped.

Every single one of them.

Even those still capable of fighting retreated almost simultaneously.

My smile vanished.

That wasn’t normal.

I looked toward the tree line.

A tall man dressed in dark clothing emerged through the morning mist.

No visible insignia.

No panic.

He walked slowly.

Far too slowly for a man surrounded by enemies.

Tran Ve Quoc shouted.

“Stop right there!”

The stranger ignored him.

His eyes remained locked on me.

Then something happened that turned my blood cold.

He looked at my feet.

Then my hands.

And smiled.

“Interesting.”

My chest tightened.

Because the man had spoken in perfect Chinese.

And because the next sentence was something I had heard only once before.

On the night before my grandfather died.

“The crane guards the center. The dragon hides its tail.”

My entire body stiffened.

Grandfather had told me those words belonged only to our family.

That nobody outside the Hua bloodline was supposed to know them.

I stepped forward.

“Who are you?”

The stranger’s smile widened.

“So Old Hua really did leave behind an heir.”

Behind me, Captain Tran asked quietly,

“Hua Bac… do you know this man?”

“No.”

But my voice sounded different.

Because I had just noticed something hanging around the stranger’s neck.

A small piece of black jade.

Exactly like the one my grandfather had been buried wearing against his chest.

The stranger slowly raised a hand and touched it.

“Your grandfather told you to wait until you were twenty-eight, didn’t he?”

The blood drained from my face.

Nobody knew about that promise.

Nobody.

“How do you know?”

The stranger glanced toward the sky, which was beginning to brighten.

Then he looked back at me.

“Because the deadline was never meant to protect the Tai Chi.”

He paused.

“It was meant to protect you.”

Before I could ask another question, a sharp whistle came from deep inside the jungle.

For the first time, the stranger’s expression changed.

“They arrived earlier than expected.”

Tran Ve Quoc frowned.

“Who?”

The man began backing toward the trees.

“If you want your comrades to remain alive, Hua Bac, get off this mountain before sunrise.”

“Wait!”

“And when you turn twenty-eight…”

His eyes darkened.

“Do not return to your grandfather’s grave.”

Then he disappeared into the mist.

One second later, a deep sound began rolling across the opposite side of the mountain.

Not footsteps.

Not wind.

Captain Tran went pale as he checked his compass and stared toward the northern ridge.

“Hua Bac…”

“What?”

He pointed.

New silhouettes were appearing between the trees.

Dozens of them.

And this time, even the men who had ambushed us looked frightened.

Then one of them screamed a single sentence—

“They’ve come for the Hua heir!”