The Southern Liu Association was always a place where passion, harmony, warmth, and mutual benefit intertwined. Just as a flame warms its surroundings even as it consumes the wood, the people here lit each other's paths without burning one another.

As dawn broke, footsteps gathered one by one in the quiet training hall. In the vast, sparse yard, only the sound of wooden swords clashing and disciplined shouts echoed. Young trainees threw punches in formation, and those who gripped their swords with sweat-soaked hands repeated the same movements countless times. No one hurried, yet no one was idle.

The building resembled a classic Oriental temple and martial arts dojo. Pillars and windows made of dark wood, walls faintly bearing the marks of time, and long decorations hanging beneath the eaves. Red lanterns and golden patterns adorned various spots, and the golden dragon eyes embroidered on tables and walls glowed quietly, like eyes watching over the place.

The faint scent of warm tea wafted through the hallways; someone opened a book to learn, while another polished a sword in a corner of the training hall. It was not a place that worshipped strength alone. They believed that knowledge rights the human heart, training refines a scattered spirit, and learning to respect one another ensures that power is used in the right way.

Kindness leads the way, and discipline holds one back from straying. Power does not exist to trample others, but to protect what must be protected.

That was the Southern Liu Association.

Teaching people, tempering the body, and governing the mind. And one day, passing on what one has learned to the next person.

In this place where countless footprints and sword marks remained, the flame did not go out. It was not a flame meant to burn someone, but a flame meant to light each other's way in the darkness.