Henry Harper sighed and refocused his attention on the martial arts of the other three major schools. There were also many peerless techniques among them, such as Dugu Nine Swords, the Flame Blade Technique, the Dog Beating Staff Technique, and so on. But, as he was born an orphan, where could he possibly get a sword, a blade, or a staff? So from the very beginning, the martial arts he could choose from were actually just a few: Arhat Fist, Heaven’s Net Palm, Five Venoms Palm, Cotton Palm, and Carefree Fist—just these few. And among them, the only one that allowed him to immediately start cultivating inner strength after practicing was actually the most basic Arhat Fist. Given his identity as a nine-year-old orphan who had transmigrated, the only option he could really choose was this one. Otherwise, did he really not want to practice other, better martial arts? Buddhist martial arts certainly weren’t limited to just Arhat Fist—there were Dragon Claw Hand, Duoluo Leaf Finger, Great Wisdom Unfixed Finger, Great Strength Vajra Palm, Sumeru Mountain Divine Palm... These techniques, especially the last Sumeru Mountain Divine Palm, could be considered top-tier martial arts, just a step away from the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms. Did he really not want to learn them? It was just that the mundane world forced his hand.

“Pa.”

Suddenly, Henry Harper’s shoulder was slapped hard. He hadn’t even come back to his senses, but his body reacted first. His steps shifted with the footwork that came with Arhat Fist: his right foot stayed put, his left foot twisted along the ground, and using the force of the twist, his body spun toward the direction of the slap. His fist rose, ready to strike, but then he suddenly realized that the person standing in front of him was exactly the one he’d been waiting for.

“Henry Harper, you’re zoning out here again, lost in thought. What’s up, had another epiphany?”

Standing in front of Henry Harper was a man dressed in flashy clothes, wearing earrings and a nose ring, his hair dyed in all sorts of colors—he looked just like a little punk. But Henry Harper showed a warm smile, nodded, and said, “I was just thinking about martial arts training, got lost in thought. You just got here?”

The little punk grinned and immediately threw his arm around Henry Harper’s shoulder, the two of them walking side by side toward the fast food restaurant by the road. As they walked, he said, “Had to make a delivery, so I’m late. You know how it is—I’ve got a wide network. There are tons of guys getting goods from me. That’s why I just got here.”

This guy’s name was Brian Lincoln, an orphan from the same orphanage as Henry Harper. Although many in the orphanage formed cliques and bullied the weak, there were also some who supported each other. Brian Lincoln had been extremely small and weak as a child, completely unable to practice martial arts. He and Henry Harper met by chance, and by then Henry Harper had already started practicing Arhat Fist. Although this set of moves wasn’t anything special, it had one advantage: once you started learning it in the system, you immediately gained level one proficiency, which was basically equivalent to a beginner in martial arts. That level of skill was enough for self-protection in the orphanage. So at that time, Henry Harper looked out for this little brother. Although Brian Lincoln couldn’t practice martial arts, he was a smooth talker and quick-witted, and he managed to get a lot of benefits for Henry Harper in the orphanage. Over time, the two supported each other and managed to survive the most helpless years in the orphanage, becoming brothers—brothers in life and death.

After that, because Henry Harper had the system, he also had direction and motivation, so he trained hard. Plus, the world he came from before transmigrating was decades ahead in technology compared to this one, and he had at least been a college student, so studying was no big deal for him. He kept winning scholarships, and through the government’s compulsory education, he slowly got into college. Meanwhile, his Arhat Fist was trained step by step to an advanced level, reaching the tenth-level mastery after nine years.

During this time, after finishing junior high and completing the nine years of compulsory education, Brian Lincoln left the orphanage and started living independently. He was a smooth talker, sharp-eyed, and quick-witted. Although he couldn’t fight, there were plenty of people who could, but not many who were clever. So he gradually made a name for himself among the street punks in the underworld districts. Though still a small-time punk, he was a well-known figure in those neighborhoods, well-informed and resourceful, dealing in soft drugs and occasionally pimping—he was doing pretty well and had some sources of income.

In fact, even as a child, Henry Harper had stated his life goal: he honestly wanted to gain inner strength and travel the world. But practicing martial arts required money—even with the system, at the very least he needed to eat meat. Relying on scholarship money, he could barely fill his stomach, but eating meat every meal was impossible. It wasn’t that the scholarship was too little, but that its original purpose was to reward students—no one expected orphans to get scholarships. They were meant for students from normal families, who had parents and a home. For them, the scholarship was just extra pocket money, already quite a lot. But for Henry Harper, who had to pay for food and rent, it was far too little.