Thinking of this, Charles Brooks couldn't help but feel a fondness for talent, and said to his father, “Dad, this kid’s aptitude is pretty good. How about... letting him become my disciple?”

If those rowdy kids who just left heard what Charles Brooks said, their resentment toward Frank Quinn would probably deepen even more.

You see, although they practiced Bajiquan, what they learned were just the basics. To truly master the essence of Bajiquan, one had to formally become a disciple under one of the The Brooks Family brothers, but they simply didn’t have that fortune.

In the martial world, when a master takes on a disciple, it usually requires repeated assessment. Not everyone is suited for martial arts—aptitude and temperament are extremely important. Otherwise, one could never hope to become a true practitioner.

But while there are always those who recognize talent, a good disciple isn’t always so easy to come by. Many martial arts have disappeared over the years largely because the disciples weren’t up to the task and failed to carry on their master’s skills.

Frank Quinn was able to develop inner strength just by secretly observing, so his aptitude was beyond question. And to persist in secretly learning for four years, regardless of the heat of summer or the cold of winter, showed a resilience that moved Charles Brooks, making him consider taking Frank Quinn as a disciple.

“Master Brooks, you... you want to take me as your disciple?”

Although Frank Quinn was mature for his age, he was still a child. Hearing Charles Brooks’s words, he couldn’t help but show a look of joy. He knew that the Second Brooks before him might look like an ordinary farmer, but his skills were among the very best in the Cangzhou area.

“Jiacheng, if I could have taken him, wouldn’t I have let you do so years ago?”

The Old Man in the courtyard sighed, looked at Frank Quinn, and said, “This child has refined features and exceptional bone structure—a martial arts prodigy rarely seen in a hundred years. Do you think I can’t see that?”

“Dad, then why...” Charles Brooks was taken aback and looked at his father in confusion. He knew his father had high standards and had never heard him praise anyone so highly before.

“You’re asking why I didn’t take him as a disciple years ago, right?”

Old Brooks shook his head and said, “Although this child’s bone structure is outstanding, his brows are broken, and his face shows signs of early death. If I’m not mistaken, he probably won’t live past this year...”

At this point, Old Brooks paused, his eyes full of regret. Once a person dies, everything is lost. No matter how talented Frank Quinn is, what good would it do?

Back in the day, when Old Brooks traveled the martial world with his master, he met one of his master’s close friends—a man of great learning, skilled in divination, who once taught Jack Brooks some techniques of physiognomy.

And in the decades since, Jack Brooks had used these techniques to read people and had never been wrong. As early as four years ago, he had seen Frank Quinn’s face and thus refused to take him in.

“Dad, when did you learn to read faces? Can you really trust that stuff?”

Hearing his father’s words, Charles Brooks couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Although physiognomy isn’t entirely baseless and has its reasoning, to give up on such a promising student just because of this seemed a bit too hasty.

“What do you know? Even if he didn’t have the signs of early death, I still couldn’t take him as a disciple.”

The Old Man glared at his son in annoyance, then, after thinking for a moment, said to Frank Quinn, “You’re so young, yet you carry such a heavy air of hostility. You must have experienced some great misfortune. A martial artist should cultivate martial virtue, with the goal of strengthening the body and mind. Can you do that? If you can, I can accept you into the Bajiquan school!”

“Dad, what did you say?” Although the Old Man was speaking to Frank Quinn, the nearby Second Brooks was left gaping in disbelief at his father.

You have to understand, Old Brooks had survived years of gunfire and bloodshed, with more people dying at his hands than he could count. And in the martial world before liberation, martial artists were all fierce and combative, ready to fight to the death at the slightest provocation. How could he say something like that?

So Charles Brooks simply couldn’t believe that such talk about cultivating virtue through martial arts would come from his father’s mouth. It was like a tiger turning vegetarian—utterly absurd.

“You brat, shut your mouth! Do you really think you understand martial virtue?” Old Brooks still had the aura of a tiger; with a single glare, he scared Charles Brooks into clamping his mouth shut.

“Although back then Master Thompson never lost a match in his life and was ruthless in his actions, earning the nickname ‘Henry Thompson’, injuring others in matches was just a feature of that era. No one would back down, and no mercy was shown. Master Thompson’s skills were too great—when he struck, the enemy was bound to be injured or killed. There was no helping it.”

Jack Brooks turned his gaze to Frank Quinn and continued, “But Master Thompson always followed the rules of the martial world—never ambushing, never scheming, never breaking his word. That is the character of a warrior. Frank Quinn, can you do that?”

“Grandpa Brooks, I can’t!”

Looking into the old man’s clear eyes, Frank Quinn shook his head in pain. The reason he had secretly learned for four years was to one day avenge his parents. Since it was for revenge, he would stop at nothing. How could he give that up just because of the old man’s words?

“Forget it, I don’t have the ability to change your fate. Child, you may go!”