Chen Feng had already decided on the dance in the span of a thought. The signature MJ moves of Michael Jackson!

To stir the blood and make people lose themselves in such a setting, Michael Jackson’s dancing was undoubtedly the most direct and effective method. Stepping onto the dance floor, Chen Feng exchanged a few words with the musician.

The musician seemed to grasp Chen Feng’s meaning, and they nodded to each other. Immediately, the electrifying music started, and Chen Feng began shifting his movements with the rhythm.

The Moonwalk, Popping, Breaking… A cascade of movements flowed out seamlessly with the beat, leaving the surrounding crowd momentarily unable to process what they were seeing. No one could accurately describe the intense excitement felt upon first witnessing Michael Jackson's choreography—a dance that had sent his entire previous world into a frenzy.

If this couldn't capture attention here, it would be unbelievable. Instantly, the surrounding crowd descended into screams and revelry; almost everyone lost control.

“Such natural grace, such fluid movements…” Yanni stood frozen, her hands and feet subtly swaying to the music. If Yanni’s earlier dance was mesmerizing, Chen Feng’s performance now was enough to drive people wild.

The music merged with his movements, bringing the modern dance to an unparalleled peak. It stoked the impulse in everyone present to move.

………… The music ended. While everyone was still caught in a state of frenzy, Chen Feng had already stepped off the dance floor.

“You… what kind of dance is that?” Yanni leaned forward, asking sincerely. Chen Feng shook his head without answering, returning to his own table to sip his red wine.

How could he explain it? Should he mention that these were the steps Michael Jackson created in his past life?

It was better to say nothing than to try and explain the unexplainable. Seeing Chen Feng remain silent, Yanni’s expressive eyes flickered, looking as if she might cry.

After a moment, she lightly bit her lower lip, as if making a firm decision, and then suddenly dropped to her knees with a soft thud. “Yanni willingly bows to you as her master to learn this dance!” Her clear voice held no hesitation.

This act of kneeling to seek tutelage snapped the frenzied crowd back to reality. The Dance Immortal of the Loki Empire, Yanni, was seeking a master, and her chosen teacher was merely a boy of sixteen or seventeen.

Every person in the grand hall fell into a state of stunned disbelief. If this news were to spread, no one in the entire Loki Empire would believe it, yet those present felt it was utterly natural.

Those who hadn't witnessed the sheer fantasy of Chen Feng’s movements could never imagine such dancing existed in the world… Chen Feng hadn't anticipated this turn of events, but his composure was excellent, and he remained unruffled. He stood up: “I have nothing to teach you.

Everything must be realized through your own comprehension!” With that, ignoring the admiring gazes surrounding him and casting aside the kneeling Yanni, Chen Feng turned and walked out of the hall. He knew clearly that taking Yanni on as a disciple would certainly make his future life difficult.

Besides, he was only an amateur. The reason for the shock tonight was predominantly the Michael Jackson choreography; steps so far advanced compared to this world's standards—if that didn't amaze people, no one would believe anything.

Cultural transmission differs from technical skill transmission. It is hard to judge the superiority or inferiority of a culture just by looking, but technical arts are different; skills inevitably improve.

It is as clear as the difference between an ancient bow and arrow and a modern machine gun. But regarding culture, discerning quality is harder.

However, history moves forward, and culture will always evolve toward what best suits society. Michael Jackson’s moves pioneered modern dance; in this world, where dance skill roughly equated to the Tang Dynasty of China, an immediate sensation was inevitable.

Chen Feng relied on the sheer advancement of his steps, but when it came to inherent grace or deep understanding of dance, he was far inferior to Yanni. It was like a modern special forces soldier easily killing an ancient martial arts master with a handgun; but if the martial arts master then begged the soldier to teach him Kung Fu, even an idiot wouldn't agree.

Michael Jackson's technique was like that handgun: stunning in execution, but it didn't mean Chen Feng’s fundamental dancing skill was sufficient to be Yanni's teacher. “Yanni must learn this…” Watching Chen Feng drift away, Yanni slowly stood up, clenching her fist, her gaze filled with determination.

………… As Chen Feng left the hall, he felt a profound sense of detachment, as if crossing into another era. “What is wrong with me?

How did I regain that old mischievousness?” Chen Feng murmured to himself. Affected by the Dark Cyclone, his mindset was beginning to lean toward Iori Yagami.

The cold and decisive Iori would never have done something so reckless as dancing in public. Since the Qi in his Dantian began to spin in reverse, his murderous intent had grown stronger, and he had become increasingly arrogant.

Everything boiled down to one thought: kill. But the moment he danced tonight felt different from before.

Alongside the ferocity, there was a childish impulse—dancing onto the stage just to prove a point. Perhaps his current state was closer to Iori Yagami now, Chen Feng mused internally.

Anyone familiar with King of Fighters history knew that Iori Yagami was truly an enigmatic figure. Everyone assumed he was there for the trophy, yet he only wanted to kill Kyo Kusanagi; when everyone thought he’d align with Orochi or some ambitious faction to gain strength, he would coldly dismiss them with, "I have nothing to do with you"; just when everyone saw him as a brute, he’d utter, "I hate violence," baffling them.

Everyone assumed he was emotionless and incapable of tenderness, yet facts showed he cherished [character name redacted] and was once seen smiling while feeding a cat milk at a train station, always having a girl by his side… Perhaps this was the truest Iori. Rebelliousness, coldness, and cruelty could not solely define Iori Yagami; perhaps being perpetually inscrutable was his true nature.

“Could it be that drop of transparent liquid?” A spark of realization lit up in Chen Feng’s mind. “I came to this dance after the transparent liquid appeared.

Was my action tonight influenced by it?” Chen Feng pondered. In the past, if Katis had been so rude, he would have thrown her out of the hall long ago.

Now, he hadn't. It seemed a significant, unusual change was indeed occurring within him.

“But I don't know where that clear droplet went within my meridians now. Even if I searched, I couldn't find it.

How can I study it?” Chen Feng swept his consciousness through his body once more but found nothing. He couldn't help feeling a bit disheartened, but then he quickly reasoned: “However, it doesn't seem like a bad thing.

I’ll understand it later. Getting anxious now is useless.” Returning to his lodging, Chen Feng closed the door and practiced all of Iori Yagami’s techniques again, integrating the control of the cyclone Qi.

He performed both Ya Otome and Ya Sakazuki. This time, the sensation upon execution was incredibly strong, especially with Ya Otome; Chen Feng felt it was separated from true comprehension by just a hair's breadth—a feeling he’d never possessed before.

“It seems the influence of the transparent droplet has brought my state of mind closer to Iori Yagami’s, making Ya Otome much easier to grasp!” Chen Feng couldn't help but be pleased. If he continued practicing at this rate, it wouldn't take long before he fully mastered Ya Otome.

Mastering Ya Otome would grant him another significant leap in combat power. Iori Yagami’s Ya Otome was a technique comparable in power to Kyo Kusanagi’s Orochi Nagi!

Back when he was a Level Six Fighter, he could defeat the Level Four Intermediate Beast Fighter (equivalent to a Level One Fighter Master), the Ice Rock Beast Wolf White Wolf King, using only Orochi Nagi. Now at Level Eight Fighter, if he successfully grasped Ya Otome, slaying a Level One Fighter Master would no longer be difficult.

Thinking about soon mastering Ya Otome brought Chen Feng immense satisfaction. In the King of Fighters game of his previous life, Ya Otome was his favorite move—viciously tearing enemies apart with razor-sharp claws.

It was savage, brutal, leaving a lasting shadow on everyone who fought Iori Yagami. He tidied his clothes, which had become disheveled from practice, and fell into a deep sleep.

In the middle of the night, he woke up suddenly, staring out the window with killing intent blazing in his eyes. He leaped swiftly from the bed, stood straight, and spoke coldly toward the window: “Come out!” Outside, there was only the sound of the wind, no other movement.

“Hmph!” Chen Feng snorted, hooking his right hand out in a reverse hook motion, flying low across the ground toward the window. With a loud BOOM, the window shattered into fragments, and half of the adjacent wall collapsed.

Out of the crumbling wall, a person fell into the room, as if from thin air. The figure, clad entirely in black, was already on the verge of death from the blast caused by Chen Feng’s reverse hook.

Approaching, Chen Feng placed a foot on the man’s neck: “Who are you? Why were you hiding here?” “Cough, cough…” Blood poured from the black-clad man’s mouth.

He was clearly dying. Seeing he couldn't speak, Chen Feng asked no more questions, kicking his head apart and tossing the corpse casually into the courtyard.

If they could dispatch a hermit to spy, they could dispatch a second. If I can't find out who they are, I’ll deliver a warning: one comes, one dies!

………… “Who sent you?” Yanni’s face was dark enough to drip blood. Her expression was a complete contrast to her demeanor on the dance floor.

“The Grand Steward…” the few black-clad figures kneeling on the floor confessed fearfully. If Chen Feng were present, he would have recognized the uniforms of these black-clad men as identical to the one he had just killed.

Hearing the Grand Steward's name, Yanni turned to the middle-aged man standing behind her: “Uncle Fang, you should have at least consulted me before doing something like this!” The middle-aged man, addressed as Uncle Fang, maintained an unreadable expression: “I merely wished to investigate this boy’s background, nothing more.” Yanni retorted, “I intend to take him as my master. If he finds out what you did, it will only make me a laughingstock.” “Miss, you must mind your station.

A mere set of strange steps does not qualify someone to be your teacher!” Uncle Fang’s voice carried no emotion. “My affairs do not require this much of your interference!” Yanni was clearly displeased with Uncle Fang’s actions.

“The family gave me five years for my practical experience; I intend to use it well!” “But Miss, your father instructed me not to allow you to associate with these commoners,” Uncle Fang continued, his tone placid, as if stating the most mundane fact. “You don't need to manage my affairs!” Yanni snapped, turning away to walk out.

“I will handle things myself!” Watching Yanni depart, Uncle Fang sighed: “Alas, the Miss is as stubborn as her mother.” As he spoke, layers of water-like light ripples radiated around his body, and in an instant, he vanished from the room—the exact same method used by the eight elders in the Mingyu Pavilion. ………… “Knock, knock, knock!” A series of heavy knocks woke Chen Feng from his sleep.

“Who is it?” Chen Feng was clearly in a foul mood; anyone would be after a sleepless night. He stood up and could see through the collapsed wall that it was Brent.

“Big…” Brent stopped mid-sentence upon seeing the destruction, yet Chen Feng was still lying in bed, snoring soundly. He found this odd.

After Chen Feng unleashed the reverse hook in his rage last night, destroying the window and part of the wall, no one else had disturbed him. Chen Feng glared at Brent, his eyes bloodshot, his head throbbing from lack of rest: “Give me a good reason, or I’ll throw you out of here!” Brent shivered seeing Chen Feng’s state: “Big Brother, Miss Judy from the Blood Wolf Mercenary Group has woken up.

She sent someone to find you.” “Judy?” Chen Feng rubbed his eyes and nodded: “I know!” He turned and walked back to his bed, continuing his deep sleep. It wasn't until late morning that Chen Feng finally rose, washed up, ate a little, and walked toward the Blood Wolf Mercenary Group’s encampment.

In the main hall, about a hundred mercenaries were still making noise, but their voices quieted considerably as Chen Feng approached, as if they had seen a plague god. After being provoked and subsequently taught a lesson, these mercenaries seemed to have grasped Chen Feng’s strength and dared not step forward to challenge him again.

“A bunch of cowards who only bully the weak,” Chen Feng scoffed inwardly as he slowly ascended the stairs. As soon as Chen Feng left, the noisy chatter resumed in the hall.

“Hey, did you hear? I heard that red-haired youth got into a fight with the Fite Mercenary Group after he left here,” whispered one well-informed mercenary.

“The Fite Mercenary Group? The one from the Fenlai Empire?” asked another.

“Nonsense, how many Fite Mercenary Groups are there?” The informed mercenary lowered his voice: “I heard he even killed one of their Fighter Masters on the spot!” “Killed a Fighter Master…” The surrounding mercenaries widened their eyes in disbelief: “How is that possible? How old is he?

He doesn’t look older than sixteen. A sixteen-year-old killing a Fighter Master…” “It’s true!” The informant insisted, sensing their doubt.

“I heard that too,” chimed in another mercenary casually. “I heard the one he killed was Jino, a Level One Fighter Master.” “Jino…” came another collective gasp.

“Jino, one of the ten Fighter Masters in the Fite Mercenary Group, was killed by such a young boy…” “If only I had such strength,” one mercenary finally said with envy. “You?

You’d need another eight hundred years of training!” an older mercenary scoffed. “No wonder Miss Judy is so attached to this guy; he possesses such terrifying power!” ………… “Iori Yagami, are you alright…” Judy lay weakly on the bed, looking at Chen Feng.

“I’m fine,” Chen Feng replied, a surge of warmth rising in his heart remembering how she had bravely shielded him yesterday. He opened his mouth and said, “Thank you!” She looked calm, seeming like a child.

In reality, she wasn't old—still in her innocent youth. Seeing her idol now, she was too excited to care about maintaining an image.

“You don’t even know Miss Yanni, the Dance Immortal? What a provincial bumpkin,” Judy grumbled when Chen Feng showed no reaction.

Yanni smiled faintly and slowly approached them. “She’s actually walking over here!

The Dance Immortal Yanni is approaching us!” Judy could barely contain her excitement. It was the feeling of ordinary people like us seeing Andy Lau while shopping, and then Andy Lau smiles and walks toward you… That feeling would be indescribably thrilling.

“Dance Immortal Yanni, could I have your autograph…” Judy said, stepping forward excitedly to greet her. Yanni nodded, quickening her pace until she stood before Chen Feng and suddenly knelt down: “Please accept me as your disciple…” “Ah…” Judy gasped, covering her mouth.

ps: 5000 words updated, requesting monthly votes for support. (To be continued, for future events, please visit wwwncom, more chapters, support the author, support genuine reading!)