A glorious fist momentum erupted from Ryu's heart.
Man's first weapon had always been the fist. However, over time, it had become overshadowed by other more complex existences. Not long later, it became difficult to find a cultivator who didn't choose a weapon to cultivate, causing the infancy of martial arts, the fist, to fall by the wayside.
That said, if there was any art that embodied what it meant to be human, it wasn't the so-called King of Weapons—the sword—nor was it the spear, nor the rod, nor any other weapon form… It was precisely the fist that rested at the core of humanity.
There was elegance in its simplicity and power in its humility. It reflected what was in a person's heart to the utmost degree and it was the only Mortal Endowment not weighed down by the conventions of countless epochs of Fate.
The fist was what someone wanted it to be. It was deeply personal and endlessly flexible.