Since his rebirth, Grace Miller had increasingly felt that his former self was like a tragic supporting character in a shoujo fantasy novel starring his younger sister Henry Miller—his sole purpose in life was to inspire the protagonist’s fighting spirit, or maybe to make a cameo, play a bit part, and serve as background.

Just think about it: an ordinary girl in some high school suddenly awakens supernatural powers one day, then, after a series of events, gets involved in that mysterious world and embarks on a new grand adventure...

Isn’t this exactly the standard formula for a shoujo fantasy novel?

As her older brother, he was far less dazzling than his sister Henry Miller in every respect. He was almost completely invisible.

“Mom and Dad are eating at the shop. They told us to take care of ourselves,” Henry Miller said calmly. “I’ve already eaten.”

Grace Miller nodded. He closed the door, walked to the kitchen, found some cold rice left in the rice cooker, and quickly whipped up some egg fried rice to settle his meal.

Then he immediately returned to his bedroom to begin his routine meditation and cultivation. He didn’t know just how powerful espers could be, but working hard to improve himself as quickly as possible was definitely the right move.

As long as he quietly built up his strength before his sister got involved in the world of espers, he might be able to avoid repeating the mistakes of his previous life.

Chapter 9: Capture

Actually, Grace Miller didn’t have a concrete concept of the underworld. In his previous life, he was just an ordinary martial arts enthusiast—he’d attended a martial arts club for a while and participated in a sanda tournament. In reality, in Grace Miller’s mind, so-called underworld experts were simply people much stronger than professional fighters. As for how much stronger, or any specific classifications above that, he had no idea. Even now, after practicing the basic sword techniques, he didn’t have a clear sense of his own strength. He just estimated privately that he was probably a bit stronger than his old self.

Strength, after all, is proven through fighting. But in a law-abiding society like this, finding one or two experts who matched his current level was like searching for a needle in a haystack. As for real underworld experts...

“Forget it, I’m still too weak right now,” Grace Miller shook his head, dismissing the idea. “I have to quietly gather relevant information and intel from the sidelines first.” He knew nothing about underworld experts—if those people were all ruthless killers, and he recklessly approached them, one careless move and the consequences...

“Maybe it’s not a bad idea to start by testing the waters with some local small gangs or thugs,” Grace Miller silently considered the things he needed to watch out for. The more he thought about it, the more suitable the idea seemed. He couldn’t accurately gauge his current strength, so he could use ordinary people to roughly measure it. Besides, in his previous life, he’d been extorted for protection money and bullied by these local thugs a few times—that was one of the reasons he’d resolved to learn sanda and fighting. Now, he was confident that even facing a dozen or so small-time thugs directly wouldn’t be a big problem.

The most important aspect of the basic sword techniques was acupoints! Whether it was the “dead sword” or the “crippling sword,” both required extremely precise eyesight and hand control. Only by striking the recorded acupoints with effects exactly as described could one be said to have mastered the basic sword techniques to the fullest. These secret acupoints were completely different from the meridian points in traditional Chinese medicine—they had strange names and their effects were extremely vicious.

For example, between the chest and abdomen, traditional Chinese medicine lists more than a dozen acupoints like Juque, but the basic sword techniques had over twenty, and their effects were all crippling. This was why Grace Miller was so confident—with this acupoint chart and his previous fighting experience, he could easily take down an opponent in an instant. Of course, as long as he held back a little, it shouldn’t be that serious.

He decided to act immediately. Looking outside, he saw that it was already completely dark.

The streetlights along the neighborhood road cast a warm yellow glow. Tiny insects circled and danced around the lamp covers. A few elderly people, hands clasped behind their backs, strolled leisurely along the roadside after dinner. Occasionally, a couple of young men dribbled basketballs toward the school’s playground. Although this was just a residential building for elementary school staff, the school had built a small basketball court next to the staff cafeteria. Grace Miller had played there in his previous life, but gradually lost interest—he was never really into basketball. Still, if he wanted to find trouble with those thugs, there were only a few ideal places.

Billiard halls, arcades, internet cafes, and basketball courts.

Not the basketball court in the neighborhood, but the public basketball court in a nearby leisure plaza.

...

A dense wire fence surrounded the area. Inside was a small concrete basketball court with two sets of hoops, allowing for two games at once. Nearby were some roadside gardens and stone benches along winding paths. Beyond that was the main road.

At dusk, high-wattage bulbs on both sides of the court shone brightly. The cool evening breeze still carried a hint of warmth, so it didn’t feel cold at all. It was the perfect time for a game.

There were already two teams playing on the court.