Blue Planet, July 2, 2565, 1:50 PM.
In one of the most bustling cities of the United Earth Federation, New York, dark clouds loomed over the skyline, accompanied by roaring thunder, signaling an impending downpour.
"Summer thunderstorms come and go so quickly," said a young man standing in the top-floor room of the Starry Sky Combat Gym, gazing out through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the swirling storm clouds and flashes of lightning. The sound of rain pattering against the glass grew steadily louder.
The young man walked to the center of the room, placed both hands on the ground, and began a slow and steady handstand. First, he performed a two-handed handstand, then transitioned to balancing on just his right hand.
“Inhale... exhale…”
The sound of his breathing echoed softly in the room as Logan Mitchell felt his core muscles tighten and the strain of his body weight pressing down on his right arm. For the first three minutes, his arm felt comfortable; the muscles and tendons were stimulated in a deep, satisfying way. By the fourth minute, his palm began to ache slightly, and by the fifth minute, it became a struggle. Yet, Logan was accustomed to this; once the five minutes were up, he naturally shifted to balancing on his left hand.
"Wonder how Dad’s back is doing today," Logan thought to himself during the exercise. His father, now 60 years old, had long been plagued by chronic back pain. According to his mother’s phone call yesterday, his father had aggravated his injury while moving some heavy objects.
"I’ll head back home as soon as I finish this training program," Logan resolved.
The one-arm handstand wasn’t part of any modern training routine—it was something his father had taught him when he was a child. Logan had been a sickly child, and his father had introduced him to martial arts to build his strength and health. Among the routines was the "one-arm handstand stance," which had proven so effective that it became one of Logan’s five daily stances. Through winters and summers, Logan had practiced it for over 20 years. Even during illness or injury, he never skipped a day unless absolutely necessary.
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As the saying goes: "Train martial arts without training the basics, and it all amounts to nothing." The so-called "basics" referred to foundational, daily training.
A gap of even three to five days could lead to noticeable declines in muscle tone, balance, and endurance.
After finishing his handstand routine, Logan walked to his desk, sat down, took a sip of water, and gazed out at the downpour outside.
"The humidity’s back... My leg’s starting to ache again," Logan muttered, glancing at his right leg as he gently massaged it. "I’ve never stopped the rehab exercises, but this leg of mine… it’s never going to fully recover."
"If it weren’t for this leg injury, I might’ve had a shot at becoming world champion," Logan said quietly to himself.
For professional martial artists, injuries were their greatest fear, and the “broken leg” injury was a nightmare Logan had never fully escaped.
Suddenly, a soft beeping sound interrupted his thoughts.
Logan looked up and spoke, "Sky, answer the video call."
Light particles gathered in front of Logan, forming a two-meter-high screen. On it appeared a burly man sitting in a vehicle, grinning as he greeted, "Logan, we’ve just left the hotel. We should be at your Starry Sky Combat Gym in about 20 minutes. Haha, it’s been over a year since we last met! Tonight, we’re going all out for drinks!"
"Don’t worry, Ryan. I’ve already booked a table at the best barbecue restaurant," Logan replied, smiling at his childhood friend. "But be careful on the road—the rain’s pretty heavy."
"Relax, relax," the burly man laughed. "The kids in the provincial training team are all excited to meet you. They can’t wait to see your spear techniques in action. You’ve gotta show them what it means to be world-class."
"I just hope I don’t embarrass myself," Logan joked.
"Embarrass yourself? I’d actually love to see that! If you mess up, it means our provincial team has produced a new genius!" Ryan laughed heartily. "Alright, enough chatter. See you soon!"
"See you soon," Logan said, waving his hand to end the call, dispersing the screen of light.
Logan was scheduled to provide training for the North American Provincial Training Team, a 10-day program for which he would earn 50,000 Blue Planet credits. Truthfully, this fee barely covered the gym’s operating costs. But for the Starry Sky Combat Gym, hosting training sessions for the provincial team was a valuable marketing opportunity to attract more martial arts enthusiasts to sign up as members.
"Even as a retired professional, I’ve gotta make a living," Logan muttered as he got up to take a shower and change his clothes.
The life of a professional combat athlete might seem glamorous, but only during their peak did they make decent money from sponsorships and prize earnings. Very few athletes worldwide earned over a b