Halfway to the sky atop a lone mountain's peak, the fists and feet of a young and old man clash as they shout.
"Shitty geezer, eat my Seven Folds Sky Trembling Fist!"
The young man shouts, running at the old man, fist withdrawn, before flicking his leg and kicking at the old man's head.
As his foot reaches within a hair’s width of the old man’s head, the old man suddenly leans back in an inhuman manner while laughing, dodging the kick then lifting his foot as if to return the attack with a kick of his own.
“Shitty brat, take my Rising Dragon Kick!”
The old man grabs a handful of dirt before throwing it at the young man’s face, blinding him and sending him flying with a punch to the stomach.
The young man after being sent through the air lands on his feet, but not before spitting towards the old man’s face.
“Tiger’s Might Slash!” The young man appears to chop at the old man before turning his body to charge shoulder first.
“Void Step Shift!” The old man takes a step as if to dodge before shifting his balance towards the young man, punching towards the young man’s face.
“Mighty Yang Headbutt!” The young man appears to throw his head towards the old man’s fist, before twisting and attempting to strike at the back of the old man’s neck.
“Frozen Iron Skin!” The old man’s muscles suddenly tense, becoming hard as iron.
“Wood Splitting Palm!”
“Stray Dog’s Digging Art!”
Such a shameless fight continues onwards until the old man conjures a tree root to trip the young man, who falls backwards, hitting his head on a rock and falling unconscious.
Not much later the our young hero awakens on the floor of the small hut just below the mountain’s peak. Before he can even open his eyes he hears the voice of the old man who is preparing food outside.
“You’re still 500 years too early to reach me, kiddo.” The old man scoffs.
“Bah. If only you’d teach me those weird skills of yours then I’d knock you flat in a moment.”
“Hah!” The old man laughs loudly, triggering a fit of coughs, before saying, “You say that as if you could actually learn my so called weird skills! The only reason you would be able to reach me in 500 years is because I’d already be dead! You need talent to learn, and you have none!” The old man sighs. “And I would know! Talent that even the heavens would be jealous of, and yet here I am, babysitting a damned brat who doesn’t even know the meaning of talent.”
The young man rolls his eyes in disdain.
“Oh yes, I’ve heard this a thousand times, chosen by the heavens, disdaining the heavens, attracting the jealousy of the heavens. At this point I’m beginning to wonder if living up here has rendered you directionally challenged, with the heavens you speak of being the dirt below your own feet.”
"Pah!" The old man spits on the ground before saying, “Why do I even bother arguing with a kid like you that doesn’t know the world?” The old man shakes his head as if to shake off a thought, before standing up. “Alright, grub’s up. Come grab it yourself.”
Walking off with his own bowl, the old man mutters to himself out of the young man’s earshot, “Learning my skills will do you no good. The best they would lead you to would be an exile in the middle of nowhere like myself, and that’s only if you’re lucky. Otherwise… Otherwise…” He pauses, before sighing. “Nevermind, he won’t be like them, and he won’t be like me. He’ll find his own way.”
Damn geezer, he knows full well that I can’t move yet told me to get the food myself.
The young man tries his best to get up, only succeeding in twitching his arm a bit at first.
Half an hour later, the young man succeeds in retrieving his own bowl only to find that the original contents had been stolen by the local wildlife.
“Damn geezer!” He shouts, disturbing a flock of roosting birds in a nearby tree, before returning to the hut and grabbing one of the many books stacked in the corner.