Martha, who was busy cooking in the kitchen, suddenly stopped moving.
The wooden spoon froze halfway through the pot as she stirred the simmering soup. Tiny bubbles rose to the surface and burst with soft popping sounds. For several seconds, she did not turn around. She simply stood there in silence, her slender figure illuminated by the dim yellow light hanging above the stove.
Something seemed to cross her mind.
Without saying a word, she wiped her hands on her apron and pulled out her phone.
A moment later, Ethan's phone vibrated inside his pocket.
He lowered his head and looked at the screen.
[Congratulations! Your bank account has been credited with 5000 credits.]
The moment he saw the notification, his eyes became moist.
He quickly blinked several times, trying to force the tears back, but the warmth spreading through his chest only made it harder.
His mother had not asked him why he needed the money.
She had not questioned him.
She had not lectured him about responsibility, saving, or the family's financial situation.
She had simply sent the money.
That fact alone made his chest ache.
Ethan knew better than anyone how difficult things were for their family. His father's monthly medication cost ten thousand credits. There were utility bills, groceries, rent, and countless other expenses. Every single credit mattered.
Every credit represented another sacrifice.
"Thank you, Mom," Ethan said softly.
His voice was slightly hoarse.
After bowing his head, he quietly returned to his room.
Behind him, Martha shook her head with a faint smile.
This was the first time her son had actively asked her for something.
How could she possibly refuse him?
She watched his retreating figure disappear down the hallway. His shoulders looked tense, and his fists remained tightly clenched.
Something was clearly weighing on his mind.
After entering his room, Ethan closed the door and sat on the edge of his bed.
The old mattress sank beneath his weight.
The room smelled faintly of dust, worn wood, and old books. Through the thin walls, he could hear his younger sister turning pages while studying. Further away, the steady hum of his father's breathing machine echoed through the house.
Taking a deep breath, Ethan finally spoke.
"System, sell me the Minor Completion Stage of the Iron Fist Technique."
[Ding! Thank you for your patronage, Host.]
Immediately, another notification appeared on his phone.
Fifteen thousand credits had been deducted from his account and transferred to an unknown source.
The next instant, Ethan felt a violent surge of information flood into his mind.
Countless images, movements, and experiences appeared within his consciousness.
The sensation was overwhelming.
It felt as though an experienced martial artist had spent years training and then compressed all of that knowledge into a single moment.
He saw how the fist should rotate during the final stage of a punch.
A tiny adjustment that looked insignificant at first glance suddenly revealed its true purpose. That subtle twist could dramatically increase the impact force.
He understood the optimal angle of his elbow.
He learned how the shoulders, back, waist, and legs needed to coordinate perfectly to generate explosive power.
The movement of muscles and tendons became crystal clear.
They were supposed to contract like tightly wound springs before releasing tremendous force in an instant.
Even breathing was part of the technique.
He learned when to inhale.
He learned when to exhale.
Every secret hidden within the Iron Fist Technique unfolded before him like a fully opened book.
When the torrent of knowledge finally settled, Ethan slowly stood up.
His eyes remained closed.
His body instinctively began performing the technique.
One movement flowed into the next with remarkable precision.
It felt less like practice and more like instinct.
Boom!
A dull shockwave echoed through the room.
At that moment, a warm current surged through his body.
The warmth spread rapidly through his muscles, bones, and organs.
At first, it felt comfortable.
Then it grew hotter.
The sensation became similar to liquid fire rushing through his veins.
Ethan clenched his teeth as his body underwent a transformation.
His biceps tightened.
His forearms became noticeably denser.
His fingers, which had always been thin and ordinary, suddenly felt heavier and stronger.
He could sense new strength emerging from deep within his body.
It was as if invisible threads were reinforcing every muscle fiber and every bone.
The changes continued for several minutes.
When everything finally stopped, Ethan slowly opened his eyes.
A look of disbelief appeared on his face.
In this world, comprehending a non-energy combat technique to the Minor Completion Stage provided a significant physical enhancement.
A person would gain approximately one hundred kilograms of punching force.
More importantly, they would officially step into the ranks of Junior Martial Students.
Ethan stared at his hands.
For years, those hands had scrubbed floors, carried garbage, and performed endless cleaning jobs.
Now they contained real power.
He slowly clenched his fist.
Crack.
The joints in his hand produced a sharp sound.
The feeling was intoxicating.
He threw a punch toward the empty air.
A crisp cracking noise echoed throughout the room.
His wrist remained stable.
His posture remained perfect.
The strike landed exactly as the technique intended.
Excitement surged through his chest.
The system was real.
Everything it promised was real.
He was no longer just a poor cleaning boy carrying a broken phone and countless frustrations.
He was now a martial student.
For the first time in his life, he had stepped into the world of the elites.
Unfortunately, his excitement did not last long.
A powerful hunger suddenly erupted from deep within his stomach.
His face immediately changed.
The sensation was so intense that it felt as though he had not eaten for several days.
Ethan quickly understood the reason.
His body had consumed a tremendous amount of energy during the enhancement process.
Now it needed fuel.
A lot of fuel.
Without wasting any more time, he left his room and headed toward the kitchen.
"Mom, I am hungry," Ethan said somewhat awkwardly.
Before Martha could respond, another voice echoed from nearby.
"Me too! Me too!"
A young girl ran out of her room.
It was Elina.
She had recently entered her first year of high school.
Martha laughed softly.
"Then both of you should sit at the table. I will bring the food."
The siblings immediately sat down.
As Ethan pulled a chair toward himself, his hand accidentally squeezed the handle a little too hard.
Crack!
The old wooden handle broke apart instantly.
Everyone froze.
"Huh?"
Elina blinked several times in confusion.
Then she looked at the broken chair before bursting into laughter.
"It looks like our furniture is too old now. Even somebody as skinny as you can break it, Big Brother."
Ethan twitched.
He suddenly wanted to pinch her cheek.
Fortunately, he remembered what had happened to the chair and abandoned the idea.
"Do you want a beating?" Ethan asked while pretending to be angry.
"Hmph."
Elina crossed her arms and smirked proudly.
A few minutes later, Martha served dinner.
The moment the food touched the table, Ethan attacked it like a starving beast.
His spoon moved so quickly that they became a blur.
"Hey, slow down," Elina complained.
"The food is not going anywhere."
Ethan ignored her completely.
Within moments, his plate was empty.
He hesitated for a second before looking toward Martha.
"Mom... can I have another serving?"
Although he felt embarrassed, his body demanded more energy.
Martha smiled warmly.
"Of course."
She immediately filled his plate again.
Watching her children eat always brought her comfort.
No matter how difficult life became, seeing them healthy and full made every sacrifice worthwhile.
Ethan quickly finished the second serving as well.
The hunger finally eased.
After wiping his mouth, he stood up from his chair.
His next destination was already decided.
The Iron Fist Dojo.
He wanted to officially register as a martial student.
Compared to the truly talented geniuses, he might not be anything special.
However, a martial student was still far superior to an ordinary person.
That status alone could completely change his future.
"Mom, I am leaving," Ethan said.
Martha nodded.
"Be careful."
Ethan took one final look at his family before opening the door.
Then he stepped outside and headed toward the Iron Fist Dojo, carrying hope in his heart and a future that finally seemed withichopstick