[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-chat-group-my-northern-dipper-fist-will-never-lo":3,"chapter-chat-group-my-northern-dipper-fist-will-never-lo-chat-group-my-northern-dipper-fist-will-never-lo-chapter-1":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Chat Group: My Northern Dipper Fist Will Never Lose!",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":18,"prevChapterSlug":19,"totalChapters":20,"novelImage":21},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":12,"translator":16,"content_hash":17},2349566,4593,"Chapter 1: Longing to Become a Fist Master","chat-group-my-northern-dipper-fist-will-never-lo-chapter-1",1,"\u003Cp>Cold… trembling…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He awoke from a whirl of dizziness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Above him was an unfamiliar ceiling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ugh, my head hurts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every part of his body ached.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>An IV drip hung from his arm, pumping nutrients; his chest and abdomen were tightly bandaged; the air carried a faint antiseptic scent; a pure white cotton blanket covered him; fluorescent tubes emitted soft, bright, non-glaring light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His head throbbed with unbearable pain and unrelenting dizziness; Jia Qi barely extended one hand to pull back the blanket covering him—but after just one motion, he froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fragments of memory churned and surged inside his skull like a boiling pot of thick soup.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>… Adoptive father… temple… heir? … Senior brothers? … What even is this…?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After an indeterminate length of time, he finally regained his composure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet the myriad memories still swirled chaotically in Jia Qi’s mind, unsorted; he shook his head slightly, his face twisting in shock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Is this still Earth?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Where the hell did they send me?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In short, he had crossed over, replacing someone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had arrived in a world very similar to Earth—history, nations, systems, culture—all subtly different in detail, but broadly unchanged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But according to the chaotic memories in his mind, this Earth had long possessed a class of beings called Fist Masters, who lurked in the shadows of history, steering the course of eras.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every Fist Master in the age of cold weapons was a superhuman capable of fighting a hundred alone, revered in status, so much so that this world had cultivated a martial tradition since ancient times—even into the modern age of firearms and missiles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, not all Fist Masters avoided weapons, but for them, fist techniques were fist techniques, body movements were fist techniques, leg techniques were fist techniques—any art that unlocked human potential and trained the spirit was considered a fist technique.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One method understood, a hundred paths revealed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Did I end up in some Wen Ruian world? Everyone here has to know martial arts—acting, forging iron, farming—even the dogs are aggressive.” Jia Qi couldn’t help muttering.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this world, he was an orphan rescued from a fire by his adoptive father; they had lived together in mutual dependence until one day his adoptive father revealed extraordinary martial prowess.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naturally, “Jia Qi” began learning fist techniques, training as a disciple in the temple where he had grown up since childhood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yes, this body was also named Jia Qi, and he too had become one of those “aggressive” types.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ouch—the memory gaps are pretty severe.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The name of that fist technique… he couldn’t recall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His Master’s name, his senior brothers’ names… also gone?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It felt as if some special force blocked him—critical details were all blurred, impossible to retrieve.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since he couldn’t remember the exact name, but this was a fist technique taught in a temple by a poor master in a remote village, it probably wasn’t anything powerful.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The more he recalled, the more his head throbbed; he vaguely remembered his sect had four senior brothers, and he was the third.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Including his Master, there were only five people total—truly a tiny, insignificant sect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet this was also the very reason he had woken up on this hospital bed—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone had come to challenge the sect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Si Ba of White Snake Fist had taken advantage of his Master and senior brothers’ absence to challenge the sect’s heir.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I have no intention of harming a brat like you. Just call out the heir.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My Master isn’t here. If you want to duel the heir, come back another day.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hmph! So ■■(muffled) has hidden himself—did this old man know from the start he couldn’t win?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His current Master was not only his martial instructor but also the one who had saved and raised him; as one of the sect’s true disciples, he naturally bore the duty and responsibility to defend the sect’s honor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a lifetime, has one ever fought for something with all they had…?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even against an opponent he couldn’t defeat, in this situation, he fought with everything.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the simple, single-minded years of youth, a stubborn martial disciple, after witnessing the person he most revered being insulted, unleashed unprecedented power—and suffered unprecedented devastation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Swinging his fists, he was dodged in an instant; then, like a snake’s tongue striking, a palm emerged from the shadows and bit toward his neck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Brat, since you attacked me, prepare to die!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Strangled by a man far larger than himself, suffocating, oxygen-starved, chest constricted, pinpoint hemorrhages in his conjunctiva, skin turning cyan—his final glimpse before losing consciousness was his Master returning with his senior brothers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When he opened his eyes again, the stubborn boy’s body now housed a different soul.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jia Qi fell silent; the original’s fate had been bitterly hard—the lingering grief and fury of his death still seemed unspent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Man, you really had it rough…” He stared at his own hands—though not rough, they weren’t smooth either; knuckles thick with calluses, evidence of relentless training.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet his training meant nothing before true Fist Masters—he had been killed so easily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From Jia Qi’s outsider perspective, the original’s outburst wasn’t wrong; Si Ba’s retaliation to provocation wasn’t wrong either.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The mistake was that he was too weak.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Among Fist Masters, there were levels; a minor, inexperienced cultivator like him was utterly insignificant before true masters—even his own Master…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Judging from his current condition, his Master hadn’t lost—he was still lying here peacefully, meaning the sect still stood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But then again—could Fist Masters really be this strong?!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Strong enough to control their own fate!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Strong enough to control the lives of others!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jia Qi yanked out the IV tube and leapt from the bed in excitement, sprinting to the full-length mirror on the wall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So fast!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His movements were swift and agile—even in this injured, unhealed body—he felt a strength he had never experienced before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He blinked, raising his eyes to his reflection.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A boy of about fourteen or fifteen, nearly one meter seventy tall; his upper body tightly wrapped in medical bandages, outlining the contours of hardened muscle; his lower body clad in blue-and-white hospital scrubs; both feet bare from running too hastily; as for his face…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hmm… how to put it… I’m not ugly, but I’m definitely not handsome.” He touched his chin, and his head began to throb again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Slanted eyes glinted with undefined menace; his spiky hair stood rigidly upright, radiating aggression; his youthful features twitched intermittently from pain, appearing grotesque; even without trying, he naturally exuded a look of scowling fury, a demon’s visage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he had to describe it, he’d say: anyone passing a crime scene with this face would be immediately suspected.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Martial training can change a person’s appearance, but not this violently evil?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clearly, this was innate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jia Qi now understood why Si Ba had been so brutal; he tried smiling once—and gave a brutally honest assessment:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The delinquent boy in the mirror, if he grew up, would be a wasted criminal if he didn’t prey on the weak and oppress the innocent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, this was a world of Fist Masters, where strength ruled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though many judged by appearance, true worth lay in power—if his strength could defeat the challenger who came before, no one would dare criticize his looks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Quickly, Jia Qi made his decision.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He must continue training!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If I could become a Fist Master, none of this would have happened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though this world had no concepts like Ming Jin or An Jin from Chinese martial arts, nor underground realms or high-tech Earth setups, from his incomplete memories, he could see their system was—Secret Martial Arts!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There were no global sports events or Guinness records.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because the human limits he once knew no longer applied to Fist Masters—superhuman beings stronger than lions and tigers were common; even with full-dose stimulants, ordinary people couldn’t surpass them; those wielding superhuman power didn’t even consider such meaningless contests.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each martial style had its focus; a speed-specialist wouldn’t pit himself against a strength-specialist, and losing would mean admitting his art was inferior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some methods, when mastered to the highest level, caused irreversible bodily transformations—adaptations to the martial art, yet most of these forms defied mainstream aesthetics.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Neither popular nor discreet, they exposed one’s physicality to public view, making them easy targets for enemies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Global martial competitions were held only twice before being permanently canceled due to massive casualties among competitors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The destructive power unleashed by these human beasts when they lost control made spectators’ lives unsafe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Over time, Fist Masters focused solely on refining their skills, avoiding flashy displays that might invite mockery from peers or rivals for being desperate enough to perform like clowns.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Secret Martial Artists live with struggle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And they excel at it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Those who reached the pinnacle could defy guns and cannons; some even integrated modern technology into their bodies, achieving combat power far exceeding conventional armies—thus, to society and any regime, Fist Masters remained dangerously potent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mysterious, formidable!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Power that could trample the law!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He began recalling his former life: his parents taken by accident; though he attended university, in his early twenties he had no friends or girlfriend; after buying games, he sat at his desk without playing; even his favorite anime felt bland; in the end, he lived alone, utterly alone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps because of loneliness, he always observed coldly, witnessing countless types of people.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Poor or rich, passive or loud, shy or wild, hateful or grateful, those cursing life in despair, those flaunting wealth in triumph, those desperately proving their dignity, those begging with humble smiles, those having affairs, those bribing, those smiling with knives hidden, those weeping with raw emotion—endless varieties.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But none of it concerned him; no matter how vivid the stories of others, they were not his own.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was merely a spectator, a passerby.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet Jia Qi’s memories stirred something in him—excitement, exhilaration, a real sense of being alive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A life with purpose, in contrast to “meaningless.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I almost got trapped on that Earth—trapped on that ordinary, mundane, miracle-free planet, almost lived a completely unremarkable life—but…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Facing the floor-to-ceiling mirror, he leaned forward slightly, one arm drawn back, the other hand splayed before his face; his muscular frame and broad shoulders contrasted sharply with his narrow waist—he struck the classic JoJo pose—“But I got lucky!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Literally—just before he exhausted the last spark of passion, a runaway truck had transported him to another world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the timing, the vessel—so perfectly coincidental—he had stepped directly through the door into the Secret Martial Arts world, just one step away from transcendence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jia Qi slapped his own face; though he didn’t know his talent level, he had trained for years—and still got knocked out in one blow; clearly, he wasn’t a genius.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This once-in-a-lifetime opportunity lay before him—shouldn’t he risk everything to see the sights he’d never dreamed of?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Combat, martial arts, secret martial techniques, esoteric arts…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These practices that strengthen the five limbs—various techniques, schools, and lineages that ignite fanaticism in every life from an ordinary world—awakened in Jia Qi a flame called “ambition,” granting ordinary humans power to transcend their destined fate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A surge of heat erupted from deep within the flesh and bone, from the very ends of the nerves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Resentment, grievance, hatred, anger, fury, vexation, sorrow, pain… all emotions intertwined, the dying body’s lingering malice surging forth now, striking the soul that had come from another world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jia Qi gritted his teeth against the pain and forced a grimace at his reflection—his unchangeable, vulture-like cruel gaze locked onto the other, the mirror image glaring back at him with equal fury.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this moment, Jia Qi’s expression grew extraordinarily complex: a hint of joy, a spark of excitement, yet also sorrow, despair—hope tangled with faint fear—but in the end, he drew a deep breath, inhaling as if to abandon the past and embrace the future.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he made his promise: “Rest easy… since I’ve taken your body, this will never happen again.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“From today on, I am—you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He extended his fist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His fist met the fist of his other self.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2012,"2026-06-21T02:38:13.240Z","Qwen3-Next 80B","168ae597fb01bc6ee4ceb087e27f25976673760b85c24950e6cc318957c40223","chat-group-my-northern-dipper-fist-will-never-lo-chapter-2",null,355,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fchat-group-my-northern-dipper-fist-will-never-lo-cover.jpg"]