After leaving the store, Liam continued walking down the luxury shopping street, letting the rhythm of Seoul pull him along.

Trendy cafés, designer boutiques, street photographers, and early-morning couples passed by as he explored without any real aim.

After nearly an hour of wandering, the scenery slowly shifted. The high-end shops faded behind him, replaced by quieter buildings and tree-lined sidewalks.

He saw a dojo with a simple wooden sign hung above it, sliding door partly open, faint sounds of controlled breathing and rhythmic strikes drifting out.

Liam stopped in front of it for a moment, hands in his pockets, watching the faint movement of shadows inside.

A small smile crossed at his lips.

"Why not?" he murmured.

He stepped forward and pushed the door open and walked in.

The door slid shut behind him with a soft click, muting the noise of Apgujeong Rodeo Street. The sound inside the dojo was entirely different.

A low rhythmic thud… thud… thud echoed through the air.

The space was wide and clean, with polished wooden floors that reflected the daylight spilling from the high windows. A long banner in Korean hung at the far wall:

"Strength is discipline. Skill is humility."

Students of different ages practiced in neat rows. Their white uniforms fluttered lightly with every kick and pivot. Their movements were precise, controlled and beautiful in their simplicity.

Of course, for someone like Liam who could see the essence of every martial arts and fighting techniques in the world, their movements are filled with a scary amount of flaws.

At the front of the room was the master.

Older looking, probably in his late fifties, fit, posture straight, eyes sharp like a blade sharpened for decades. His presence grounded the room. It was calm but commanding at the same time.

He noticed Liam instantly. He lifted a hand and the students stopped at once.

"Break," the master said in Korean.

The students bowed, split into corners, and began practicing individually.

The master approached Liam with light, steady steps.

"Welcome. Are you looking to observe?" He asked in a warm tone.

Liam bowed lightly and replied in fluent Korean, "No, sir. I'm looking to spar."

A ripple of curiosity spread among the students. A few paused mid-stretch. A teenager whispered something to his friend, eyes shining with excitement.

The master lifted a brow. He clearly was not offended, but intrigued.

"You want to spar?" he asked. "May I ask… at what level do you train?"

"I travel a lot. I learn from different places. But I don't belong to a rank system," Liam smiled.

Which was the truth, because there wasn't a belt color for the kind of skill Liam possessed.

"Many people request to watch. Very few request to spar. Even fewer say it politely," the master said with his arms folded behind him.

He studied Liam for a few seconds, his gaze disciplined, measuring.

"You do not appear reckless," the master said. "But appearances deceive. Do you understand the rules of sparring in a dojang?"

"Yes. Respect above victory. Control above strength.

"Correct," The master nodded, faintly surprised.

A small smile crossed the corner of Liam's lips. He had actually made up the rule on the spot, using his World-Class Etiquette skill.

But who knew it would actually be right?

"Very well. Before I decide anything, I will let you warm up with someone. It is improper to judge a person's ability without seeing their movement."

He gestured toward the side of the room.

"Jisoo," he called.

A young man—maybe twenty-two—straightened from his stretching. He had a black belt around his waist and the confident posture of someone who trained hard and seriously. His frame was lean but powerful.

"Yes, Master."

"Warm-up sparring. Light contact. No strikes to the head."

"Yes, sir."

He stepped forward, bowing to Liam.

Liam returned the bow.

The students gathered quietly, eager to watch.

Jisoo slid into a ready stance, sharp and balanced.

Liam lifted his hands loosely, not bothering to take a stance, but keeping himself in a relaxed guard.

Jisoo's brows lowered slightly. He thought Liam was underestimating him.

The master watched with folded arms.

"Begin," he said.

Jisoo moved first. His movements was pretty fast.

A clean, snapping roundhouse kick cut toward Liam's ribs.

Liam leaned just two centimeters without any unnecessary movements, and the kick sliced through empty air.

A murmur rippled through the watching students.

Jisoo didn't hesitate and attacked with a low sweep but Liam stepped over it.

He attacked with a spinning back kick. Liam shifted sideways, letting it pass by his jacket sleeve.

Liam wasn't blocking or making any counterattack. He simply didn't allow himself to get hit.

Besides, it was impossible to get hit as while Jisoo's movements are fast, they are painfully slow to him.

Jisoo's eyes widened and he pressed harder, with a flurry of three kicks. All angled, precise and well-practiced.

Liam dodged all three with simple pivots, calm, like he had seen them in slow motion. Which of course, he did.

The master's brows rose slightly.

Jisoo's breath grew heavier.

Then, Liam moved.

Just one step.

A quiet, effortless step.

Before Jisoo could react, Liam tapped his chest with two fingers and stepped back.

It wasn't a push, strike or blow. It was just a simple touch as any other, but Jisoo stumbled back three steps and barely kept his balance.

The room fell silent.

Jisoo looked stunned. He stared at Liam's hand, then at his own chest, confused as to how someone could move that fast without him noticing.

He bowed immediately.

"Thank you… for the lesson," Jisoo said, sincerely.

Liam bowed back.

The students erupted in whispers.

"Did you see that?"

"He didn't even hit him—"

"He moved so fast—"

"Master has to fight him—right?"

The master lifted a hand and the whispers died instantly. Then he approached Liam.

His face held the focus of a man who had spent his entire life searching for better technique.

"Your movementis beyond what I expected," he said.

He dipped his head faintly.

"I will spar with you."

Students gasped quietly, as this has almost never happened.

The master stepped onto the floor, removing his belt and folding it neatly aside. He stood in front of Liam barefoot, settling into a stance that looked effortless but grounded.

Liam and the master bowed to each other.

"Begin," he said.

The master moved first, but unlike Jisoo, his movement was controlled and deceptively smooth.

It was like watching a river flowing over rocks.

He aimed a palm strike toward Liam's sternum, but it was blocked it gently.

The master's brows went up a fraction. He made a subtle shift to his centre of gravity, then sent a sweep toward Liam's legs.

Liam lifted his foot before the sweep even arrived.

The master immediately attacked with a fast elbow strike.

Liam tilted his head half a centimeter and the elbow grazed air.

Silence fell.

The master stepped back, reassessing. His eyes sharpened and his breathing changed, becoming deeper and calmer.

He attacked again with faster movements, but Liam blocked with perfect fluidity.

After taking a couple of the master's attacks, Liam stepped in and with just one step, he reached out and tapped the master's chest lightly with his fingertips.

The master froze mid-motion, then stepped back, inhaling slowly.

The watching students were stunned silent.

The master looked at Liam for a long, quiet moment.

Then… he bowed deeply.

"Your skill is beyond anything I've ever seen. I'm very sure that you're one of the most strongest and skilled person in the world, and you're so young," he said.

Liam returned a polite bow.

"I've trained in many places," he said simply.

"That is not mere training," the master murmured. "That is mastery. And yet… your humility is greater than your skill. That alone proves your strength."

Students looked at Liam with awe and with a quiet sense of reverence.

The master straightened and spoke clearly:

"You're welcome in this dojo anytime. If you wish to teach, even for a day… it would be our honor."

Liam smiled.

"I appreciate it. But I'm just passing through."

"Then please accept one thing," the master said.

He stepped into the small office and returned with a folded white belt.

It wasn't something proving rank but a symbol.

"In our art," he said, "white represents infinite potential. A reminder that even grandmasters begin as students."

He placed it in Liam's hands.

Liam looked at it, thoughtful.

"Thank you," he said genuinely.

The master bowed once more.

"Wherever you go… don't lose that humility. It is rarer than talent."

Liam nodded and turned to leave.

The students bowed to him as he passed, whispering in awe. A few of them would talk about this day for years, maybe for life.

Liam stepped out of the dojo and onto the quiet Seoul street with a small smile. He had really enjoyed the light spar.

He tucked the white belt into his coat pocket and continued walking down the street, the winter wind brushing past his hair.

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