Sophia looked at John with hopeful eyes, silently pleading for a small favor. If he refused, she planned to turn to Anita—someone who would never deny her such a request, given their long-standing friendship.
John studied her expression and sighed. "It's rare to see you this self-aware," he said at last. "Alright, I'll speak to my seventh sister about your situation. It shouldn't be too hard to get you in."
Then his tone turned serious.
"But you need to be mentally prepared. Everyone in there is a genius."
His words were harsh—but true.
Sophia, although still in her twenties, was already considered late to begin martial arts training. The others she would be surrounded by were prodigies—young, disciplined, and far ahead of her in cultivation.
Just imagining Sophia trying to keep pace with such a group was daunting. She would have to put in a hundred times the effort just to reach the same milestones. That wasn't the worst part. The psychological burden—watching others surge ahead while she stumbled through the basics—was not something the average person could bear.
But Sophia didn't flinch.
Clenching her fists tightly, she said with resolve, "I'm not afraid. I'll do whatever it takes to catch up. I won't be easily discouraged."
She had already endured things far crueler than that. In comparison, the challenge of cultivation seemed almost merciful.
John gave her a soft smile. "I'm just reminding you not to pressure yourself too much. If the Martial Arts School doesn't accept you, I'll still be here."
The implication was clear: if she couldn't enter the school, he would personally teach her martial arts.
But Sophia misunderstood. Her face turned bright red, clearly imagining something else.
The members of the Long family, who had been silently listening, suddenly began to piece things together. Buck, ever cautious, asked,
"Mr. Lopez… is your seventh sister Master Bertha?"
"Yes," John replied casually.
Everyone was stunned. Buck turned to Sophia, looking almost betrayed. "Why didn't you tell us this earlier?"
Master Bertha was a legend in the martial arts world.
Though she was currently at the Heaven Master Realm, her talent was unparalleled. She was expected to reach even greater heights in the future.
More importantly, she had a powerful backer. Rumor had it that Alexandra herself had taken Bertha under her wing and treated her like family.
In short, the Flaherty family stood behind Master Bertha.
Had the Longs known that John's seventh sister was that Bertha, they wouldn't have been so panicked. They certainly wouldn't have tried to force Sophia into marrying into the Tennat family.
Sophia's eyes narrowed with disappointment. "Ha. I see. So it's more important to you than your own daughter."
Buck had no response. He could only look away in shame.
Arno stepped forward. "It's always better to rely on yourself than others. I support Sophia's decision. If anyone ever tries to use you as a sacrifice again… even if I have to give my life, I won't let them succeed."
With the Long family matter settled, John received a call from his seventh sister. It was time to go.
They arrived at the gates of Houston Martial Arts School.
Bertha was already waiting for them.
Tall and graceful, with perfectly sculpted legs and a figure that was both slender and strong, she was a walking masterpiece. Just by standing at the school gate, she had become the center of attention.
Two others stood beside her.
One was an older man in his fifties—Hugo, the Vice Dean of the school. The other was a younger man, probably in his late twenties. His name was Lucien, a teacher at the school and Bertha's former classmate.
Students coming in and out of the campus shot frequent glances in their direction. Or rather, in Bertha's direction.
She wasn't just any alumnus. She was a school goddess—famed not only for her martial talent but also for her beauty and charisma.
Even after graduation, her portrait still hung in the school's Hall of Honor, a beacon of inspiration for many. That photo had motivated countless students to push themselves harder.
Now the real person was here—and she was even more dazzling in the flesh.
If Hugo hadn't been present, Bertha would've been instantly surrounded.
"Little John! Over here!" she called, standing on tiptoe and waving brightly.
Of course, given her height and presence, there was no need for the gesture. John had already spotted her from a distance.
Lucien frowned. "Bertha, is he the person you were waiting for?"
"Of course."
When John approached, Bertha introduced the others warmly.
"Little John, this is the Vice Dean of our school, Hugo. And this guy here is Lucien, my senior back when I was a student. He teaches here now."
After the brief introduction, Bertha slipped her arm through John's, looking up at him with playful affection.
"This is Little John," she said sweetly, "a very important person to me."
Little John…
The intimate nickname and the way she emphasized his importance made Lucien's jaw tighten. His face twisted slightly with jealousy.
He had once been infatuated with Bertha. To watch her now—so physically close to another man, and clearly fond of him—was a bitter pill to swallow.
John noticed Lucien's hostility but chose to ignore it. Instead, he turned to Hugo with polite enthusiasm.
"Nice to meet you, Dean Smith. I've heard a lot about you from my… wife," he said, correcting himself quickly. "She told me you're an extraordinary educator—honest, upright, and deeply respected."
Then he added with exaggerated sincerity, "Everything you do is for your students. For the sake of the students. All students. Every single one of them…"
"Alright, alright, young man, that's enough!" Hugo interrupted quickly, chuckling as he raised a hand. His face was beginning to blush like a schoolgirl's.
Everyone liked compliments—but this? This was shameless overkill.
"I mean it, sir," John said earnestly. "Even though I've never been to Houston Martial Arts School before, I've heard nothing but praise for you. Besides—"
He pointed to his eyes with mock solemnity. "I'm good at reading people. The moment I saw you, I knew my wife was telling the truth."
Hugo gave a mock frown, trying to stay serious. "Stop it, young man. If you keep this up, I might actually start to feel embarrassed."
Still, it was clear he was pleased. His stern expression was undermined by the unmistakable twinkle in his eye.
And John's use of Dean Smith instead of Vice Dean only scored him more points.
Hugo didn't like being called "Vice." The title was accurate—but it always felt like an afterthought, a footnote. "Dean Smith," though? That had a nicer ring.