William Smith was still very satisfied with his own design. It wasn’t as if he’d never been to a gym before, but those fitness machines that looked so exquisitely designed and flashy on the outside really didn’t impress him, and he just couldn’t get motivated there. In his view, those machines were more like toys for city folks; if you really wanted to train, doing farm work was much more effective. In fact, that’s exactly how it was at Huayan Temple—martial arts always started from daily life, like carrying water, cooking, chopping wood. These chores not only trained a person’s strength, but even more so their willpower. There’s an old saying: “All martial arts under heaven come from Shaolin.” Actually, Shaolin martial arts truly originated from daily life. “Wu” is the surface, “Gong” is the substance; the surface is just for show, but real skill is forged through the accumulation of daily effort. When William Smith was a child, traveling with his master, he saw with his own eyes an old monk at Shaolin Temple sweeping with a seventy or eighty jin iron broom—most young men couldn’t even lift it, but it was said that the old monk had been sweeping with it for forty years, and even at eighty he was still sharp of hearing and sight. William Smith figured that if it really came down to a fight, three or five young men wouldn’t be able to get close to him. His own master, Kongxing, was the same—right up until the day before he passed away, he was still teaching William Smith boxing with steady steps. For William Smith, martial arts were as ordinary as eating, drinking, and sleeping. He practiced martial arts from childhood out of habit, not for any particular goal. As for “pursuit”—oh, right, at William Smith’s level, he didn’t really understand what “pursuit” meant yet; that could wait for another day.

A round of the fifty-four-move Arhat Fist filled the whole room with the sound of rushing air, but William Smith didn’t stick strictly to the Arhat Fist itself. Occasionally, when the mood struck, he’d mix in some of the grappling techniques, groin kicks, and the sixteen capture moves he’d learned in the army. Outside, the security guards watching the cars would sometimes hear the “hai, hai…” shouts of exertion, followed by the thumping sounds of hitting the sandbag, and the thwack, thwack, thwack of striking the layered paper. Usually at this time, the annoyed security guards would sensibly go outside. In their eyes, listening to William Smith practice boxing was less interesting than listening to guests at the sauna room having sex or the moans of the girls.

By nearly midnight, after more than two hours of continuous activity, William Smith had already sweated two or three times over, his whole body drenched as if he’d just been pulled out of water. William Smith stopped, exhaled a deep breath, and felt exceptionally refreshed. He went straight to the faucet, filled two basins with water, washed up simply, dried himself off, and tidied his clothes. Then he began his second round of inspections. Usually, around midnight was when the security guards at each venue changed shifts, and especially at the sauna, after midnight was the peak business period. With William Smith’s current position, he could have just checked in over the walkie-talkie, but he really didn’t trust the discipline of his security team, so he insisted on checking in person every day to feel at ease.

……

As soon as he reached the entrance of the sauna, William Smith got angry—once again, there wasn’t a single security guard at the door. William Smith walked in, scowling, and asked the front desk attendant, “Where are the security guards? Why is no one on duty?”

“They’re all on the second floor, seems like there’s some trouble!” The young attendant, who was signing a receipt, was startled, and when she saw it was William Smith, she pointed upstairs.

A server standing at the stairway came over and said, “Brother Smith, I know, I’ll take you there!”

As soon as they went upstairs, they could hear the commotion in the hallway. Occasionally, guests would poke their heads out of the rooms to see what was going on. From the server’s muddled explanation, William Smith guessed it was another drunk causing trouble, refusing to pay after pulling up his pants.

As soon as he entered room 218, William Smith’s guess was basically confirmed. On the bed, a bald, pot-bellied man was half-lying, half-naked, clearly a bit drunk. Two companions stood nearby, with thick eyebrows, big eyes, and pockmarked faces—clearly not the friendly type. The drunk one was cursing and slurring, “Motherfucker, didn’t even finish and they want three hundred from me—what, is it diamond-studded or gold-plated… motherfucker… I’m not paying, let’s see what you can do to me!”

Standing nearby were two young security guards, looking helpless—these were the same two William Smith had seen earlier. The girl, already dressed, was hiding behind the guards, touching her face from time to time—she’d probably been slapped.

“How come it’s just you two? Where’s your team leader, Henry Johnson?” William Smith asked angrily. The sauna was never short of this kind of mess; it wouldn’t be a normal day without a few incidents.

“Went out for a late-night snack, he’s on his way back!” one of the young guards said timidly, looking at William Smith’s stern face.

“Coming… coming, who the hell is making trouble here, let me see…” From a distance, they could hear Henry Johnson running back with two others, panting.

“I’ll deal with you later,” William Smith said to Henry Johnson as he came up, “Close the door, don’t let the guests see the joke.”

“All right, tell me, what’s going on here?” William Smith put his hands behind his back and looked at the three uninvited guests.

“Motherfucker, who the hell are you…” The drunk one clearly had no idea what was about to happen and kept cursing.

“Huzi, this guy’s got a filthy mouth, sober him up!” William Smith said calmly.

“Hey! Got it!” Henry Johnson rolled up his sleeves and was about to move in, but the two companions immediately stepped in front of him. One of them reached out and grabbed Henry Johnson’s arm, startling him.