New York City, 2565, inside a towering skyscraper

  Evan Charles reclines in his high-tech gaming chair, wearing a pair of stylish virtual reality glasses. The peaceful and tranquil atmosphere in his spacious office is interrupted by a knock on the door.

  'Come in,' Evan says, his tone casual as he switches his glasses to reality mode. He turns his attention to the entrance, just as a middle-aged man walks in, carefully closing the door behind him.

  The man begins his speech with a respectful demeanor. 'Sir, the Nudist Fighting Gym has decided to fire Logan Mitchell. I also tried to contact him using a different account, but he blocked me again.

  "Quick and decisive," Evan commented, a faint smile playing on his pale face. "Logan Mitchell and Emily Brooks—they make such an interesting pair, don't they? So provocative, so... romantic. Is this what people call 'true love'? Hahaha... fascinating. By the way, where's Eric Brooks? He's Emily's uncle, isn't he?"

  "Eric Brooks personally reached out to Emily's parents, but they seem to strongly support Logan as their future son-in-law. They even kicked Eric out of their house," the man reported.

  "Pathetic," Evan sneered, his expression momentarily sour before softening into an amused smile. "Emily Brooks... she's unlike other artists. Does she really care so little about fame and fortune?"

  "She's transitioned to the MicroWorld streaming platform. Her most recent live show was held there," the man explained. "She’s never signed a long-term contract with us, only streams once a month, and seems completely unaffected by financial pressure."

  Evan tilted his head, his smile fading slightly. "Interesting. Emily Brooks and Logan Mitchell—both public figures, yet their defiance is admirable. Fine, we'll leave it here for now. There are many things I enjoy in life—no need to fixate on this. But keep monitoring her. People change, and I doubt she’ll stay indifferent to wealth forever."

  "Yes, sir," the man replied, nodding respectfully. "She might just be young and idealistic. A few years down the line, with some real-world experience, she may come to see the importance of fame and fortune."

  "Perhaps," Evan said with a dismissive shrug. "But if she does become materialistic later, I might not even be interested anymore." He waved his hand. "That's enough for now. You're dismissed."

  "Yes, sir," the man replied before leaving the room.

  Once again alone, Evan switched his VR glasses back to immersive mode. To him, Emily Brooks was nothing more than a fleeting amusement—a ripple in the vast ocean of his meticulously controlled life.

  In immersive mode, a vast simulation of the global stock market enveloped him, streams of data and enormous digital screens flashing across his field of vision.

  "Why did Apex Media Group's stock drop by 8% today? There's no major negative news," Evan muttered, frowning as he analyzed the unexpected decline in the tech giant's stock price.

  He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Father's orders were clear—my investments must remain independent of Apex Media Group to minimize risk. If something goes wrong, Dad can handle it."

  Apex Media Group was the crown jewel of the Charles family, with the family holding an 8.2% stake in the company. Although Evan's personal wealth was separate from the company, its performance naturally caught his attention. However, trusting in his father's decades of leadership, Evan dismissed the anomaly with little concern, refocusing on the swirling stock charts as thoughts of Emily and Logan faded into the background.

  New York City, inside a towering skyscraper

  Evan Charles quickly cast aside his musings about Emily Brooks and Logan Mitchell, shifting his full attention back to the immersive virtual stock market.

  In a grand East Asian-style mansion located in the suburbs of New York City, a towering and muscular elder sat alone at a dining table. Before him was a hearty meal: roasted garlic cloves, grilled beef, and steamed vegetables. He ate with deliberate vigor, his powerful jaws tearing through the food with ease.

  This man was none other than the legendary “Tiger King,” Harvey Liu, a name that commanded respect across the global martial arts community.

  At the age of 45, Harvey had competed in the inaugural World Martial Arts Championship, pitting himself against the world’s best fighters. Despite his advanced age for a competitor, he dominated. Over the course of five consecutive tournaments, he placed in the top three every time, eventually claiming the title of world champion. Following his retirement, Harvey served for two decades as head coach of the U.S. National Martial Arts Team.

  Now in his early 70s, Harvey still exuded an aura of raw strength. His towering 6’3” frame and 240-pound build spoke to decades of rigorous training. His sharp gaze, often likened to that of a tiger’s, could unnerve even the most seasoned of warriors.

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  “Hm?” Harvey muttered, narrowing his tiger-like eyes as he scanned the holographic display before him. Projected on the screen was a detailed report of a recent incident involving one of his most promising disciples, Logan Mitchell.

  “That bastard Evan Charles has gone too far,” Harvey growled, his deep voice resonating through the empty dining room. Reaching out to a nearby control panel, he pressed a button.

  “Michael, connect,” he commanded.

  Moments later, a holographic screen flickered to life, revealing the face of Michael Carter, an experienced entrepreneur and one of Harvey’s longtime disciples.

  “Master Liu, what can I do for you?” Michael asked, nodding respectfully.

  “Logan Mitchell,” Harvey said without preamble. “I’ve heard about what’s happening. What’s your take on Evan Charles and his antics?”

  Michael sighed and shook his head. “Master Liu, I’ve looked into it. The conflict appears to stem from a personal grudge. Evan’s obsession with Emily Brooks has escalated into a full-on vendetta against Logan. I’ve tried mediating, but Evan’s reach is deep. Protecting Logan from his influence is... challenging.”

  Harvey frowned, his expression darkening. “That arrogant boy needs a reality check. Logan is one of the most talented fighters I’ve ever trained. He doesn’t deserve this nonsense. Tell me—what’s Logan doing now?”

  “Logan is taking the high road,” Michael replied. “He plans to return to his hometown to open a private martial arts academy. He’s also preparing to reenter the World Martial Arts Championship, aiming to reach the very top.”

  “Good,” Harvey said firmly. “Logan’s strength lies not only in his skills but in his determination. If he can reach the level of world champion, even someone like Evan Charles won’t be able to touch him.”

  “Do you need me to intervene directly?” Michael asked.

  Harvey shook his head. “Not yet. I have another plan. I’m going to use my personal recommendation slot for the National Martial Arts Training Program. Logan Mitchell will be one of the candidates.”

  Michael raised an eyebrow. “That’s a prestigious nomination, Master Liu. Are you sure? The competition for those spots is fierce.”

  “Logan deserves it,” Harvey said with conviction. “Send me the necessary forms. I’ll write a detailed recommendation myself. Let’s see how the board handles it.”

  “As you wish, Master Liu,” Michael replied before the holographic screen faded out.

  Harvey leaned back in his chair, his fierce gaze fixed on the now-blank display.

  “Logan has the potential to become a true champion,” he murmured to himself. “Once he rises to the top, no one—not even Evan Charles—will dare stand in his way.”

  He resumed eating, though his thoughts were already formulating the next steps to ensure his disciple’s success.

  Harvey sat quietly at the dining table, a piece of beef in hand. Despite his large appetite, the food tasted bland as his thoughts lingered on Logan Mitchell.

  “The boy is still too physically weak,” Harvey muttered, taking another bite. “If he had spent three more years building his strength before entering the World Martial Arts Championship... he wouldn’t have broken his leg or ruined his career.”

  At just 20 years old, Logan Mitchell had entered the highest level of the World Martial Arts Championship. It had been too soon.

  “With his talent, if he had waited until 23 or 24, he could have become the world champion,” Harvey thought. “If he had that title, he’d be untouchable. He wouldn’t be caught up in this mess now.”

  Harvey sighed deeply, pondering how best to help his disciple. Despite his legendary status, he was still just a martial artist. His influence, while significant, had its limits.

  “Gregory,” Harvey called out.

  A holographic screen flickered to life in front of him, revealing a white-haired man seated at a polished desk. Despite his position of authority, the man adopted a respectful demeanor toward Harvey.

  “Harvey, what can I do for you?” Gregory Allen asked, his voice calm and focused.

  “Gregory, you know about the National Training Program, right?” Harvey leaned forward, setting the beef aside. “I have a recommendation slot. I’ve thought about it, and I’m going to use it for Logan Mitchell.”

  “Logan Mitchell?” Gregory paused, frowning slightly. “You do have the authority to recommend someone, but you know the rules. The final decision will be made after thorough review. There are only 20 spots nationwide. Twelve are reserved for martial arts masters like yourself, five for other combat disciplines, leaving just three spots for candidates like Logan. His chances of securing one of those spots... well, let’s just say they’re slim.”

  “Logan is only 29,” Harvey replied firmly. “He still has tremendous potential. Even with a severe leg injury, he managed to reach the quarterfinals of the World Martial Arts Championship. Without that injury, he could have been a world champion.”

  “We know his accomplishments,” Gregory acknowledged with a nod. “But I must be honest with you, Harvey. The competition for those last three spots is incredibly fierce. Are you certain you want to use your recommendation for him?”

  “I’ve trained many disciples over the years,” Harvey began, his voice steady and resolute. “Most of them have won world championships or placed in the top three, earning the title of martial arts master. But Logan... Logan is different. He has never given up—not once. Even when everything is against him, he trains every day like a monk. His dedication alone makes him worth investing in.”

  Gregory considered this for a moment, then nodded. “All right, Harvey. If you’re certain, send me a detailed recommendation letter. The sooner, the better—preferably today. I’ll forward it to the selection committee for review. But as you know, the final decision rests with them.”

  “Understood,” Harvey replied.

  As the holographic screen disappeared, Harvey sat back in his chair, chewing another piece of beef as his mind swirled with thoughts of Logan’s potential.

  “In the history of the World Martial Arts Championship, only 12 American fighters have ever placed in the top three,” Harvey mused. “Of those 12, I’m the oldest. One is disabled, a few have let their bodies go, and one even has cancer. Yet all 12 were selected for the National Training Program. Disability, illness, or age—it doesn’t matter. They were still chosen.”

  He let out a wry chuckle. “They’ve called it a ‘once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.’ They say it’s unprecedented, but they won’t disclose the details. I wonder what kind of opportunity this really is.”

  Harvey’s worldview was simple: if his disciple faced trouble, the solution was clear—make the disciple stronger. Strong enough that the problem disappeared—or better yet, turned into someone else’s problem.

  “Logan,” Harvey murmured, rising to his feet. “If this program can give you the edge you need, I’ll make sure you’re on that list.”

  Grabbing another piece of beef, he returned to his dining table, already mentally drafting the recommendation letter that would secure Logan’s future.