Focused. That was Zixin as he was positioned in front of an enormous mirror that ran the length and height the wall. Rubberized mats spread black across the floor. Lights beat down from overhead and a row of all sorts of weapons were stored on racks off to the side.
His arm had that pleasant burn of exertion. Sweat slicked his skin, dripped around the collar of an ironically sweat-wicking athletic shirt open down the back. His hair was wet with more. Behind eyes intense on the mirror in front of him and the image of his own reflection embedded within, he was counting.
Ninety-nine. One hundred.
With a flourish, the nunchuck’s tirade swirled, and the second wooden handle came to rest in the fold of his armpit.
That was just the warmup for his wrist. He steadied his breath and switched hands. There were many more rounds to go. After a moment, the counting began fresh. It took less than two minutes, but the blood was fresh in his fingers afterward.
The warmup was the same all his life. Each weapon had its own sequence. Had its own basic movements. Its own steady heartbeat. Nunchucks moved in eight directions: four cardinal and four diagonal. They were fucking fun, but nothing as grandiose as what was coming up next.
After the workout that planted the roots of muscle memory a little deeper in his brain, he moved on to the next weapon. He brought his own, being very particular of the belongings. There were three swords propped along with the mound of his gym bag. The Jian was a straight, double-edged sword mainly used for stabbing. He moved this aside to grasp the other style. The mian dao was a single-edged sword, slightly curved, and mainly used for cutting. In the west, most assumed it was the Japanese katana despite the fact they looked completely different to his trained eye, but the former was brought to fame by twentieth century martial arts movies. Zixin brought two dao blades with him today.
He returned to the open floor, this time with his back facing the mirror, and began to warm up smooth and slow.
"To be slow is to be smooth; and to be smooth is to be fast."
It quickly became apparent that he had mastered the art. He ended the sequence with a backflip twist and a sweep of the blade outward, gripped from the long handle behind.
Breathing hard, he left the floor to grab a towel and water bottle. Next was body-training.
Hour one: crushed.
Hour two was up next.
![[Image: Zixinatredstar.jpg]](https://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/Zixinatredstar.jpg)
His arm had that pleasant burn of exertion. Sweat slicked his skin, dripped around the collar of an ironically sweat-wicking athletic shirt open down the back. His hair was wet with more. Behind eyes intense on the mirror in front of him and the image of his own reflection embedded within, he was counting.
Ninety-nine. One hundred.
With a flourish, the nunchuck’s tirade swirled, and the second wooden handle came to rest in the fold of his armpit.
That was just the warmup for his wrist. He steadied his breath and switched hands. There were many more rounds to go. After a moment, the counting began fresh. It took less than two minutes, but the blood was fresh in his fingers afterward.
The warmup was the same all his life. Each weapon had its own sequence. Had its own basic movements. Its own steady heartbeat. Nunchucks moved in eight directions: four cardinal and four diagonal. They were fucking fun, but nothing as grandiose as what was coming up next.
After the workout that planted the roots of muscle memory a little deeper in his brain, he moved on to the next weapon. He brought his own, being very particular of the belongings. There were three swords propped along with the mound of his gym bag. The Jian was a straight, double-edged sword mainly used for stabbing. He moved this aside to grasp the other style. The mian dao was a single-edged sword, slightly curved, and mainly used for cutting. In the west, most assumed it was the Japanese katana despite the fact they looked completely different to his trained eye, but the former was brought to fame by twentieth century martial arts movies. Zixin brought two dao blades with him today.
He returned to the open floor, this time with his back facing the mirror, and began to warm up smooth and slow.
"To be slow is to be smooth; and to be smooth is to be fast."
It quickly became apparent that he had mastered the art. He ended the sequence with a backflip twist and a sweep of the blade outward, gripped from the long handle behind.
Breathing hard, he left the floor to grab a towel and water bottle. Next was body-training.
Hour one: crushed.
Hour two was up next.
Red Star Combat Sports Club is known by the members as Red Star. It caters primarily to the martial arts training communities. It's high end, high quality, and members only. Visitors can 'try' the facility on a trial basis, but really, the owners will seek to vet and approve you rather than the other way around.