"Um… Master Jin…"
"Hm? What did you just call ?" Master Jin arched a brow, his eyes suggesting Mizuno should switch to a different form of address.
"…" Mizuno got the hint. He gritted his teeth and forced out the sha-inducing title.
"Fa… father-in-law…"
"Ehh~"
That one "father-in-law" landed for Master Jin like a referee's final bell—pure satisfaction, like celestial music to his ears.
Maybe it was parental instinct, but Master Jin had zero patience for n who made the first move on his daughter. Business tycoons, literary bigshots, entertainnt stars—if they ca on strong, he distrusted them. No way was he handing his daughter's future to that kind of unreliable crowd.
But this kid, Hideki Gou—was different. No obvious backing, sure, but talented, humble, not arrogant or rash. With cultivation he'd get to places ordinary people couldn't, even after struggling for years.
Having no background? Even better. It ant Master Jin could shape his future son-in-law—tell him to do this and he'd do it; tell him to do that and he'd do it—no pushback.
What pleased Master Jin most was how many tis Little Gou had refused to cozy up to his daughter. Only after Master Jin used his trump cards did the kid relent. Clearly he cared more about strengthening himself than chasing won. That fit Master Jin's old wrestler code perfectly—back when his life goal was being number one in Arica.
Any father would want his daughter with a man like that.
And Mizuno's repeated rejections? They set Master Jin's competitive streak on fire.
You don't want my daughter, eh? Fine—then I'll find a way to strap you to her whether you like it or not!
It's like visiting kids in a slum: hands reach out for charity before you open your mouth. But there's always that one kid who doesn't want handouts—he asks how you did it and wants to learn. You think, That kid's going places. You want to invest in him on the spot.
To Master Jin, Mizuno was exactly that kid. Entrust his daughter to him, groom him into heir—perfect choice.
"Hahahaha!"
"…"
Mizuno's mood, unlike Master Jin's, collapsed the instant he called soone else "father-in-law." His head humd with one plan: learn the finisher from Master Jin, then run. Fast. Never look back.
"Fa… Father-in-law, when do we start learning the finisher?" Mizuno asked weakly.
"Don't rush. A few things to settle first. Co with …" Master Jin slung an arm over Mizuno's shoulder and led him into the western-style room in the workshop.
"Good son-in-law, sit."
Beaming, Master Jin pressed Mizuno into a chair, rifled a side cabinet drawer, and produced pen and paper, a voice recorder, and a red inkpad for handprints.
"Father-in-law, what's all this?" Mizuno eyed the items uneasily.
"I need to leave so evidence…"
Smiling kindly, Master Jin placed everything on the table and held the recorder to Mizuno's mouth.
"Go on. Say you're volunteering to beco my son-in-law."
"…" Mizuno narrowed his eyes, cautious.
He hadn't expected this level of prudence—recording audio in case Mizuno backed out. After a beat, he opened his mouth.
"I volunteer to beco Master Jin's—"
"No." Master Jin cut him off and shook his head. "You have to say: 'I am voluntarily becoming the son-in-law of the Arican wrestler Jin·Manbao.'"
"…" Mizuno frowned.
He felt he'd heard the na before—maybe an Arican wrestler called Jin Manbao—but it didn't matter. The point was Master Jin really wanted him as a son-in-law, and the terms left no wiggle room. He'd have to leave the audio exactly as dictated.
Mizuno figured his voice, muffled by the outfit, sounded androgynous enough to be disputed later. He agreed and repeated the line as ordered.
"Very good!" Master Jin bead, satisfied. He put away the recorder and slid the pen-and-paper and the inkpad across.
Mizuno glanced down. The paper was the sa: a written agreent that he voluntarily beca Master Jin's son-in-law. This ti he didn't hesitate. He picked up the pen and signed: Hideki Gou.
After all, Hideki Gou wasn't his real na. Even a stamped handprint shouldn't hold up.
He took off his glove, dipped his thumb in the red ink, and pressed his print onto the paper.
As he did, Master Jin caught a faint scent from Mizuno and blinked in surprise.
"Little Gou, you sll a little… fragrant…"
"…" Mizuno broke into a sweat, snapping his glove back on and bluffing, calm. "Maybe I used too much body wash in the shower…"
Close call. His physique's effect on humans was only A-rank. As long as he kept his gear on properly, there'd be no lingering scent. Otherwise he wouldn't have dared bare a hand.
"Is that everything now?" Mizuno handed the agreent back.
"OK, OK!" Master Jin took it, delighted to the core. He rose with the evidence and walked into the bedroom.
Mizuno shifted, trying to see where Master Jin would stash the papers, hoping to morize it for later.
He spotted a massive steel safe beside the bed. Inside—besides the two pieces of evidence that could get him in trouble—were stacks of gold bars, US dollars, and even a U.S.-made Smith & Wesson M1917 revolver…
"Tsk…" Mizuno clicked his tongue.
He'd planned to sneak in at night and destroy the evidence, but Master Jin had locked it in the bedside safe. That complicated things.
"OK. Done." Master Jin shut the safe and returned.
Finding Mizuno still where he'd left him—no peeking, no trying to run—made Master Jin like him even more.
"Shall we have a drink to celebrate?" Master Jin was in high spirits. He fetched a long-stashed bottle of '82 Lafite from the wine cabinet, intending to share it.
"No need." Mizuno shook his head.
"Oh, right, right." Master Jin slapped his forehead—almost forgot his son-in-law didn't drink. He put the bottle back and sat at the dining table.
Mizuno couldn't help asking: "Father-in-law, can you teach the finisher now?"
"Sure, sure." Master Jin cleared his throat, ready to teach since this Gou kid was practically family now.
"This technique that lets a human body beat an Uma Musu—I learned it long ago, traveling in China, from a reclusive master…"
"Hah?" Mizuno's expression soured.
He'd expected an Arican wrestler's technique, not sothing learned in China and brought back.
Master Jin went on. "This move—simple but not simple, hard but not hard. Fairly learnable. Once you use it, you can lock an opponent for seven days and seven nights. Hence the na… Love-Strong-As-Gold Seven-Day Lock!"
"…" Mizuno's face tightened.
The na felt wrong.
"Don't be put off by the na. Once you learn the special way of generating force—turning your body's tolerance into a limiter on an Uma's strength—you really can beat an Uma Musu with a human body!"
"Back then I used this move and almost beat my wife perfectly…"
"Almost perfectly?" Mizuno asked.
What did that an? A win's a win. What counts as perfect?
"Yes. Almost…" Master Jin's mood dimd as he recalled sothing painful. He sighed. "Sadly, my body's tolerance wasn't enough. I couldn't keep her locked, and I had to pull her horsetail once…"
"Though I did win in the end, I paid with my whole life to her…"
"But—" Master Jin brightened suddenly, full of confidence as he looked at Mizuno. "Little Gou, your tolerance can already take a full-power strike from an Uma. You're stronger than I was on my first fight with my wife. You've t the standard—this won't happen to you!"
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