"The so-called 'Ren' (Benevolence)."

  On the ruined school grounds, Confucius stood before a cracked slab of concrete. He held a chicken leg bone—his makeshift pointer—and tapped the large character "仁" (Ren) written on the blackboard.

  The zipper of his green tracksuit was pulled down halfway, revealing pectoral muscles as hard as granite. Standing there at two meters tall, he was wider than the blackboard itself.

  "This character. The left side is 'Man' (人). The right side is 'Two' (二)."

  Confucius's voice was like a grand bell, vibrating the dust off the ceiling.

  "This means, when two men stand face-to-face, you must know how to make the other party 'submit.' If reasoning works, that is 'Benevolence' (Ren). If reasoning does not work..."

  Confucius squeezed his fingers. The chicken leg bone turned into powder.

  "Then you must let him know what 'Core Strength' (also Ren) means."

  The children below sat up straight, not daring to breathe. They didn't quite understand the pun, but they definitely understood the pulverized bone.

  "Is this teaching syllabus... a bit off?"

  Bone, squatting at the door as security, muttered softly. He felt a phantom chill on his cervical vertebrae.

  Suddenly, the ear-piercing roar of motorcycle engines shattered the solemnity of the classroom.

  Three modified motorcycles covered in graffiti rushed straight into the ruins, kicking up a cloud of dust that made the children in the front row cough violently.

  Five thugs with green and red dyed hair hopped off. They carried chains and baseball bats, skull necklaces hanging from their necks, faces full of arrogance.

  This was the "Rust Gang," a small local gang that collected protection fees in the area.

  "Yo? Since when did a daycare open up here?"

  The leader, a Green-Haired Thug chewing gum, scanned the children with dead-fish eyes before landing his gaze on the pile of desks and chairs donated by the parents.

  "Who allowed you to gather here? Did you pay the venue fee? If you don't pay up, believe it or not, I'll tear this place down!"

  The children screamed in terror, scrambling under the tables.

  John stepped forward to intervene, but a large hand stopped him.

  "Teacher..." John wanted to say this is my turf, let me handle it.

  "Sit back down," Confucius said calmly, his tone brooking no refusal. "The students are watching. How can the teacher hide behind others?"

  Confucius dusted the bone powder off his hands and turned around slowly. Dragging his flip-flops, slap-slap, he walked toward the thugs step by step.

  "Old man, you from around here?" Green Hair sneered at the weird old guy in the tracksuit. "The doorkeeper? Get lost if you know what's good for you. Don't force me to act. I don't respect the elderly or cherish the young."

  Confucius didn't speak. He simply walked up to Green Hair, looking down from his towering height at the punk who barely reached his chest.

  He sighed, pulled a dog-eared book (a printout of The Analects John made for him) from his pocket, and flipped to a page.

  "The Master said: 'To execute without instruction is cruelty' (不教而杀谓之虐)."

  Confucius recited the line, his voice calm as if chatting about the weather.

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  "This means: If I beat you up without teaching you the rules of being a human first, that would be abuse. I do not do such things."

  [Grace: Translation note! The actual subtext is—'I'm starting the tutorial level before the Boss Fight so no one can say I'm smurfing.']

  "Huh? What sutras are you chanting, you old psycho?" Green Hair lost his patience. He raised the baseball bat and swung it at Confucius's head. "Go to hell!"

  The baseball bat, swung mid-air, suddenly stopped.

  Confucius had extended two fingers—just two fingers—and gently pinched the solid wood bat.

  Green Hair froze. He used all his strength to pull the bat back, his face turning red, but the bat felt like it was welded to Confucius's hand. It didn't budge a millimeter.

  "Young man, your torque is insufficient."

  Confucius shook his head, looking at him like a teacher looking at a student who hadn't finished their homework.

  "Since I have already 'instructed' you (even though you didn't listen), then next..."

  Confucius tucked the book into his waistband and cracked his neck, the sound resembling a string of firecrackers popping.

  "...it is time for P.E. Class."

  "What... what are you doing?" Green Hair felt fear creeping in.

  Confucius grinned, revealing a set of neat white teeth.

  "The Master does not speak of: Strange, Force, Chaos, God (子不语：怪、力、乱、神)."

  He exerted a sudden burst of force.

  The solid wood baseball bat snapped in two between his fingers.

  "This sentence means..." Confucius explained as he grabbed Green Hair by the collar with one hand, lifting him into the air as easily as a baby chick.

  "The Master doesn't want to talk (Speak) to you, because he is going to use Monstrous Strength (Strange Force) to beat you into a state of confusion (Chaos) and delirium (God)!"

  [Grace: High Energy Alert! Original text: 'The Master does not discuss prodigies, force, disorder, and spirits.' But in Teacher Kong's hands, this is his Combat Manifesto! This is too hardcore!]

  This was the [Analects of Force].

  Confucius swung his arm. Green Hair traced a beautiful parabola in the air, flying over ten meters before landing precisely head-first into a distant trash can, leaving only his twitching legs visible.

  The remaining four thugs were dumbfounded. Is this an old man? This is the Hulk!

  The remaining thugs snapped out of it, brandishing chains and rushing forward.

  Confucius stood still, his flip-flops not moving an inch.

  "The Master said: 'A Gentleman is not a Tool' (君子不器)."

  Facing the swinging chains, Confucius didn't dodge. He met them head-on. His large hands turned into a blur.

  Left hand blocked, parrying the chain; right hand reached out, grabbing a Red-Haired thug's face and slamming it into the ground.

  "This sentence means—A true gentleman, even without a weapon (Tool), can beat you until you are Broken Tools!"

  [Grace: Correction! Original meaning: 'A gentleman is not a vessel with a limited function.' But here, it means 'I don't need a weapon, I AM the weapon!' Full marks for reading comprehension!]

  All four thugs were on the ground. Some clutching their stomachs, some holding their legs, wailing in agony.

  They didn't even see how the old man moved. This wasn't a brawl; this was a one-sided teaching session.

  Confucius clapped his hands, dusting them off, and straightened his slightly wrinkled green tracksuit. He walked over to Red Hair, who was trying to crawl away, and squatted down. His majestic face loomed over the thug.

  "Do you wish to continue?"

  "No... no more... spare me, grandpa..." Red Hair cried, snot and tears running down his face.

  "Good." Confucius nodded and pointed to the smoking motorcycles.

  "The Master said: 'Since you have come, then settle down' (既来之，则安之)."

  Red Hair shuddered. "I... I know this one! It means since we're here, we should make the best of it..."

  Confucius slapped Red Hair on the forehead.

  "It means—Since you have come, then allow me to BURY (Rest in Peace) you here!"

  [Grace: OMG! That's not settling down, that's a funeral service! Is this the legendary 'Confucian Burial Rite'?]

  "AHHH?!!" Red Hair nearly died of fright on the spot.

  "Just kidding." Confucius stood up, hands behind his back. "It means, since you're here, don't be in a hurry to leave. Leave the bikes as teaching aids for the kids. And..."

  Confucius pointed to the trash on the ground (messed up during the fight).

  "Clean this place up before you roll. If it's not clean, I will bury you. Understand?"

  "Understood! Understood!"

  The thugs, granted amnesty, scrambled to pick up trash, working faster than professional cleaners.

  John, Bone, and Grace stood aside, jaws on the floor.

  "Boss..." Bone swallowed (phantom) saliva. "I don't think we need to worry about the kids getting bullied. I'm more worried the kids will turn into Berserkers."

  "This is education..." John couldn't help but sigh, watching the children looking at Confucius with stars in their eyes.

  In this dog-eat-dog world, only by letting the children know that kindness must have sharp edges, and reason must be backed by a fist, can they truly survive.

  Confucius finished dealing with the thugs and turned around to face the children.

  His fierce face instantly switched to Benevolent Teacher Mode.

  "Alright, recess is over."

  Confucius picked up a piece of chalk from the ground.

  "Did you remember the character 'Ren' (Benevolence/Force) I just taught you?"

  The children shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the ruins:

  "We remember! Teacher is a badass!"

  "Vulgar language. Do not use it next time. However... the logic holds some merit."

  Under the setting sun, the shadow of the green tracksuit stretched long across the ground.

  The Ruin Primary School of the 13th Street had officially established its foothold through a "Public Open Class" filled with violent aesthetics.

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