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Garen calmed down and stood there listening to the conversation between the two. It was almost noon and was getting brighter outside.

Uncle Tyr finally stood up and saw the customer to the door.

"Uncle, I have to go now," Garen said while taking his scarf off the clothing stand.

"It’s still very early. You can leave after lunch if you want," Tyr said, turning back to Garen.
"You rarely come to visit and Lombarth will be back shortly. You could have a chat with him," he continued.

"Maybe next time. Ying Er is waiting for me at home." Garen smiled.
"I promised her that I will be back for lunch," he added.

"Fine… Stay safe." Tyr chuckled. He patted Garen’s head several times.

"I will," Garen said.

Garen put on his shoes and was about to leave. Suddenly, some warm paper was shoved into his right palm. It was a stack of hundred dollar bills. Garen turned back and saw his smiling uncle.

"Take it. I haven’t seen you in a long time. It’s just some pocket money. Make sure you work hard in school," Tyr said.

"I will. Thank you, Uncle. Goodbye." Garen smiled and bowed in gratefulness.

"Come and visit me more often whenever you are free," Tyr said.

"I will."

Garen said goodbye and walked down the stairs. He went back to the first floor, where he saw a blond boy wearing a tight white suit standing in the middle of the hall as a torrent of people walked past him. The boy was by a sculpture of a white angel. He saw Garen coming down the stairs and raised his eyebrows.

"Garen, get over here." The boy waved one of his hands while holding a white ball in the other. He dribbled it as he chatted with a black-haired girl who was next to him.

Garen knew the boy. It was his cousin, Lombarth, the son of Tyr. He never liked Lombarth and hated his cousin’s self-centered and arrogant personality. Garen scowled and walked toward Lombarth, stopping when he stood about two meters away.

"What did my dad say to you?" Lombarth leaned toward Garen and asked with a light tone.

"Nothing special. He asked me how I was doing recently. I have to go if you have nothing important to say," Garen answered softly.

"Why are you nervous? I am your elder. Could it be that my words are annoying you?" Lombarth raised his eyebrows again and looked at the girl beside him. He felt like he was challenged by his younger cousin.

"I am leaving if you really have nothing else to say. It is lunchtime and Ying Er is waiting for me at home." Garen did not want to waste his time on Lombarth, so he walked toward the exit. He felt a bit speechless.

"Hey! I am your elder! Stop right there!" Lombarth yelled angrily.

"Lombarth, do you really want to do this?! You don’t want to mess with me!" Garen turned back and frowned as he raised his voice. Although the old Garen was weak, the new Garen would not back down from a situation like this.

"Ha… How dare you speak to me like that? I will teach you what respect is!" Lombarth suddenly tried to slap Garen’s face. He applied martial force to his palm. The strength of the slap was doubled with the use of his combat techniques.

Lombarth, with a roar, motioned toward the left side of Garen’s face.

*Pa*

Garen used his palm to block the attack, their palms colliding with each other in mid air. Their strength level was similar, neither had an advantage during the exchange.

Garen was a bit surprised that his playboy cousin knew any martial arts, but he himself had already reached the first level of professional martial artistry. He applied more force into his palm and angrily pushed it toward Lombarth.

Unable to handle this counterattack, Lombarth took the hit and toppled sideways. He crashed into a middle-aged man beside him and he flushed in embarrassment. Lombarth looked at his right hand, which was already swelling.
It hand burned with a fiery pain and he could no longer raise it.
"Good… Garen… You are pretty good!" Lombarth said and looked at the girl beside him again.
"You just wait, I’ll make you pay for this!" he yelled.

Garen decided not to waste any more time. He knew that although Lombarth probably learned some martial arts growing up, that there was no way Lombarth could fight him. Garen had bitterly trained himself with incredible fervor. Even if Lombarth wanted to send someone else to beat Garen up, Tyr would never allow such a thing to happen.

"Save yourself some time. I can’t imagine how disappointed my uncle will be if he sees you fight like this," Garen said as he exited the hallway through a small wooden door. From behind, he could still hear Lombarth crazily yelling curses at him.

Garen returned to the district by the way he came. There were more people on the main road than before and he spent about half an hour getting back to Bluetree Street.

He entered the district; the fourth building on the right with a red roof was his home. There was an old gentleman walking down the stairs slowly with a cane in his hand. The stairs were narrow, so Garen stood to the side and waited for the gentleman to exit the building.

The gentleman gave him a friendly smile, but did not say anything. He walked straight toward the parking lot on the right. Though the gentleman needed to support himself with the cane, he was walking carefully at his own pace. His crisp black suit gave him a solemn aura as he walked away.

Garen withdrew his gaze and stepped onto the stairs. He went up the dim stairway and heard footsteps from above, and he peaked through a gap in the stairway. He saw Ying Er walking upstairs slowly, it seemed she was carrying something very heavy.

"Ying Er!" he yelled.

"Garen? You’re back? Come help me. I bought a bunch of white pears." Ying Er heard the voice, put the groceries down onto the ground, and peeked through the stairway back at Garen. She was still wearing her black dress, the hem of her skirt barely covering her thighs.

"Coming." Garen started to move, but from his angle, he could see something white through the black tights under Ying Er’s skirt. He started to blush.

"You fool, stop acting like Lombarth!" Ying Er realized where he was staring at and started to blush as well. She immediately closed her legs tightly.

"You should’ve been careful in the first place!" Garen tried to explain and ran toward her. He held the wooden yellow basket above his chest, holding about 20 fist-sized white pears in it.

"Am I not being careful?!" Ying Er yelled with arms akimbo.
"Let’s talk after we get back home!" She realized she was being too loud and looked around to make sure that no one else was there.

Garen shrugged his shoulders and stepped up the stairs again. Ying Er opened the door with her keys and they quickly entered their home. Garen put the basket down from his hands and ran away after changing his shoes.

*BANG*
Ying Er slammed the door closed, and raised her fists while still blushing.

"You are dead, Garen!" she yelled and rushed toward Garen. She was faster than Garen, even after his hard training

Ying Er started to chase Garen in the living room. After about ten seconds, Garen was tripped by Ying Er and fell down hard to the floor

‘She knows intermediate level martial arts… and it’s even trained using some Secret Art.’ Garen thought while staring speechlessly at Ying Er. Even though he did not use any martial arts and wasn’t being serious, he could still tell how strong his sister was just by watching her moves. Ying Er’s martial arts were more about speed and dexterity, while the White Cloud Dojo’s arts were more about bursts of strength. Ying Er had probably already reached the intermediate level.

Different dojos had different focuses when developing their basic martial arts. Some focused more on strength, some focused more on bursts of damage, some on agility, and some had buffs to stamina, dodging skill, or innate resistances. Their basic martial arts had different names, but were just used for common fights, unlike Secret Arts.

Secret training arts referred to special ways of exercising the body, and different dojos usually developed different versions. For example, the basic martial arts from White Cloud Dojo was not its secret arts, it was just a strength burst technique. Compared to basic martial arts, secret training arts would only be passed down to the true disciples. If these disciples kept exercising their bodies with the secret training arts, most of their attributes, such as strength, burst, agility, resistance, and flexibility, would be constantly increasing.

Garen heard that the disciples of White Cloud Dojo showed their strength during various competitions and that their secret training arts were probably developed to increase their strength. Ying Er’s speed was ridiculously fast, she had probably used some sort of special training arts to attain this level of speed.

Garen stopped musing and turned his head to the side. From his previous angle, he could again clearly see what was under his sister’s skirt. Garen could see Ying Er’s long, slim legs through her sheer black tights.

"Of all the people to take after, why do you decide to be so much like Lombarth!" Ying Er was breathing heavily as she kicked Garen in the chest. Garen’s coat was thick, so Ying Er was not worried about him getting too hurt.

Garen blinked his eyes and suddenly fiercely pulled at her feet with his hands.
*PONG*

Ying Er fell on his body and they both groaned in pain.

Garen could smell the girl’s fragrance and her soft breast pushed at the area above his chest. Garen somehow felt a little excited.
"Come on!" Garen stood up while rubbing his stomach.
"What are we having for the lunch?" he asked.

Ying Er was not paying attention to Garen’s movement and accidentally fell on his chest. She was going to blame Garen, but she started to blush again after realizing she was right above his chest. Garen was much stronger than before and she could feel his chest muscles. Unlike the last time he was tripped by his sister, Garen acted like he did not care instead of getting angry. Ying Er felt surprised after hearing Garen ask her about lunch and she hesitated for a second before standing up.
"I made sweet bean cake, onion pancakes, and coconut with sweet melon soup," Ying Er answered as she brushed some dust off her dress.

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