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Legend of a Small Fry – Chapter 2

Chapter 2: I am a Small Fry (2)

I headed out early the next morning to take a stroll around Ten Thousand Dragons Fortress.

By simply observing the atmosphere of a sect during a walk, one could gauge exactly how long they could get away with living off the place’s dime. I needed to determine if this was a one-week stay or a fifteen-day stay to plan my eventual departure.

Ten Thousand Dragons Fortress was a rising power, and its influence was already formidable. Usually, a new faction of this scale would have triggered friction with established powers, yet things remained remarkably quiet.

Rumors whispered that it was a martial organization founded by the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion, one of the five wealthiest merchant families in the Central Plains. Such rumors persisted because, for a new power, the fortress’s scale and the caliber of its warriors were exceptionally high.

The seven massive pavilions built across the sprawling estate were grand enough to rival any major sect.

At this rate, I can probably lounge around and eat my fill for a month without anyone batting an eye.

In truth, the smaller the organization, the harder it was to move unnoticed. In a small group, every eye was on you, forcing you to stay cooped up in your room. But in a place this large, with so many applicants and residents, no one paid much attention to a single individual.

Even now, numerous warriors and servants were bustling about around me, and not a single person spared me a glance. This was exactly why I occasionally applied for recruitment at major sects—to eat well for a month before slipping away.

Despite today being the final day, applicants were still pouring through the main gate in droves. Since Junggang was located just outside Chengdu, Sichuan, it was geographically close to the Qingcheng Sect, leading many of their secular disciples to apply.

Even now, two men passing by me were busy discussing the Qingcheng Sect.

Lost in thought, I eventually reached the main gate. About a hundred paces inside, a large sparring arena was being constructed in an open clearing. Final touches were in full swing, as the official recruitment duels were set to begin tomorrow.

Seeing the arena, a sudden wave of trepidation washed over me. The caliber of the warriors being recruited by Ten Thousand Dragons Fortress seemed higher than I had anticipated.

Usually, skilled warriors avoided rising sects. Such places were often bogged down with work and frequent disputes with established factions. However, word must have spread that Ten Thousand Dragons Fortress was paying its recruits handsomely, as capable fighters were arriving one after another. This was the source of my unease.

But I soon straightened my back.

My own skills weren’t exactly something to be scoffed at. I had a sword technique that I had practiced relentlessly for three months in the mountains. Not three days, not ten days, but three whole months!

They say even a scholar can change enough to be viewed with new respect after just three days; how could a warrior not improve after three months of training?

I might not be able to pose as a master, but I certainly wouldn’t be called a “small fry” anymore. Of course, to be a true master, one needed internal energy. But a Mental Cultivation Method wasn’t something you could just pick up like a stray dog on the street.

Orthodox methods were the guarded secrets of major sects or ancient clans; they weren’t things that dregs like us could ever hope to learn.

Fortunately, I had managed to obtain a sword manual from a dead martial artist, and while working odd jobs at an inn, I had picked up a Mental Cultivation Method from a drunken, third-rate guest. I later felt like a complete fool for a whole day when I realized it was just the Earth Breathing Method—a basic technique widely known even among commoners.

Because I had practiced my sword technique based on that common Earth Breathing Method, the style had morphed into something entirely different from the original manual.

Even a novice knows that to properly master a sword style, you must use a Mental Cultivation Method that complements it. Trying to practice swordsmanship with a breathing method usually reserved for eighty-year-old men was an exhausting ordeal.

That was the real reason I had descended from the mountain after only three months, despite my initial resolve.

Since then, I had deleted the parts of the manual I couldn’t understand or found too difficult, keeping only the movements I could actually replicate. I eventually named this style the Ten Severing Soul Sword. The original name in the manual was the Nine-Section Soul-Severing Sword.

I only learned the original name after asking Chun Mi and Wol Hwa—two kisaengs who were somewhat literate—to identify the characters one by one.

I added an extra “ten” to the name and called it the “Soul-Severing” sword to commemorate the grueling three months I spent training in the mountains.

My only friend, Tak-yeong, who is currently a beggar, often asks me: “Why don’t you learn the sword properly? Why not show that manual to someone and ask for help?”

The fool has no idea.

If I went around showing a manual I found without knowing its value, I’d likely end up with a blade in my gut. Even if I don’t look like much, I’ve seen enough of the world to know that martial artists won’t hesitate to kill over a few pages of drawings. I knew better than to brag about a found manual unless I wanted an early meeting with the King of the Underworld.

“Who are you?”

A youthful voice brought my steps to a halt.

Looking up, I realized I had walked past the sparring arena and deep into the estate, approaching a small pavilion. The person questioning me was a young woman who didn’t smell of the cheap perfume Chun Mi used, but rather a fragrance so refined it made the tip of my nose tingle.

“Ah, this place is…?”

As I answered absentmindedly, the woman spoke.

“This is my private residence.”

“Oh! My apologies.”

Having lived my life surviving on the whims of others, I was usually careful never to set foot in restricted areas. But today, lost in my own thoughts, I had wandered somewhere I shouldn’t have.

It meant I was getting careless. Trouble always follows carelessness. I quickly straightened my expression, adopting a serious tone.

“I am terribly sorry. I was lost in thought and didn’t realize how far I had walked.”

I wanted to maintain a dignified appearance and leave immediately. But things didn’t go as planned. The girl who had addressed me seemed to have no intention of letting me go so easily.

“Well then…”

As I turned to leave, the girl boldly stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“What is your name?”

She looked to be about fifteen or sixteen—the age people call a “blooming flower.” Even for her age, I had never seen a girl so brazenly demand a man’s name. Startled, I stared blankly at her face. She gave a playful grin and continued.

“You’re a warrior who came to apply for our Ten Thousand Dragons Fortress, right?”

Given my appearance, it was the only logical conclusion. I nodded, hoping a quick answer would allow me to leave.

My twenty-five years of life had taught me that getting involved in situations like this never led to anything good. I knew the truth: if you have nothing and no skill, you should stay on the fringes. I had seen plenty of people with nothing to their names get humiliated for trying to act tough, so I never indulged in empty bravado.

Seeing that no one else was around, I regained my composure.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Wow! That’s perfect.”

What was? As the girl—no, the young lady—looked at me and smiled, I began to feel uneasy.

“Spar with me.”

“Excuse me?”

Startled, I instinctively took a step back.

Unfortunately, this reckless young lady took my movement as an acceptance of her challenge and shouted, “Great! Everyone else just runs away, but you’re man enough not to back down.”

Wait, damn it, that’s not it! I tried to wave my hands in denial, but she misinterpreted that too.

“But I won’t give up the first move. Here I come!”

Before I could even process the situation, she was attacking me. She lunged with a palm technique.

“My lady, this is inappropriate!”

“Not bad!”

As I spoke, I hurriedly retreated to dodge her striking hand. This only seemed to fuel her competitive spirit. She seemed to think I was some kind of master.

This is bad.

Experience told me that a girl like this was almost certainly a precious daughter of the family. Her reckless behavior practically guaranteed it. If I so much as left a scratch on a girl like her, my head would be on the chopping block. Yet, dodging her wasn’t easy either.

Dammit!

To my sorrow, the girl’s skill was considerable, and I couldn’t easily escape her range of attack. Or rather, it wasn’t that she was so good, but that my own skills were just that pathetic. If I were using a sword, I might have found an opening, but trying to defend with my bare hands made even dodging a struggle.

Ugh!

I clutched my chest and stumbled back several feet.

Damn! My insides were rattling. She must have trained in internal energy, because my organs felt like they had been flipped upside down. Based on my past experiences of getting thrashed by third-rate masters when I tried to act tough, that was definitely an attack infused with internal power.

It was a stinging, sour pain. A sensation like my innards were being lightly sliced with a knife. That was the hallmark of internal energy.

If I’m not careful, I might actually get killed by those dainty hands!

Despite my internal panic, the voice that escaped my lips was the pathetic plea of the weak.

“My lady, wait! Why are you doing this?”

I felt dizzy. This little girl’s palm force was no joke. Or rather, my own meager internal energy couldn’t even withstand her strike.

“Impressive! To think you’re unfazed after taking my Seonhwa Palm at tenfold accomplishment.”

What nonsense are you talking about? I’m about to collapse!

“I’ll give it my all this time, so be careful!”

Dammit. If you give it your all, I’m a dead man. I scrambled backward.

“I’m attacking with the Seonhwa Palm at full power, so watch out!”

Oh, please! My legs were shaking. My internal energy was completely depleted from just that one strike.

“Hyah!”

The little girl started to rush at me, but then she suddenly stopped. She doubled over, clutching her stomach, and burst into peals of laughter toward the sky.

Is this brat crazy?

I was about to say something when I stopped.

“You’ve got a double nosebleed!”

I raised my hand to my nose and felt the warm, red blood on the back of my hand.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’ll…!

“As expected, you couldn’t withstand my Seonhwa Palm.”

Seeing her speak with such a triumphant face, I forced a grin.

“Truly… a magnificent palm technique. It is the most powerful style I have ever encountered.”

“Really? You really think so?”

The girl started hopping up and down with joy. The blood continued to flow. After the nosebleed, the twisted feeling in my gut began to settle. I felt like I needed to go find some restorative medicine immediately.

The girl, however, wasn’t bothered by the sight of blood. She even pulled some cotton from her pocket and handed it to me.

Wait? She was prepared for this?

“Strangely enough, every time I spar with people who come to Ten Thousand Dragons Fortress, they always get a nosebleed after being hit by my Seonhwa Palm. That’s how I realized the Seonhwa Palm is a technique designed to cause nosebleeds.”

You naive little girl… There’s no technique in the world specifically designed to cause nosebleeds. Everyone you hit just happens to be a low-level small fry with weak internal energy, so their noses start bleeding!

“But you’re a swordsman.”

The girl looked me up and down, her eyes landing on my sword. I hurriedly stuffed the cotton into my nostrils and nodded. It was the only way to salvage some dignity after being struck by her palm.

“I see. Then I’ll go get my sword. Let’s spar again, this time with the Seonhwa Sword Technique.”

What?! This brat is determined to kill me!

While the girl turned her back to go fetch a sword, I bolted and hid behind the pavilion. Even I was impressed by how nimble I was.

As I began to creep away from the area, I heard the girl’s voice echoing from inside the pavilion.

“What?! To think he could vanish while evading my senses… He really is a great master!”

That girl is going to cause some serious trouble sooner or later. Now that she had learned some martial arts and developed internal power, she was clearly having too much fun testing her moves on anyone she could find. I grumbled to myself, feeling bitter about the beating I’d taken.

“See if I ever set foot in this direction again. I’ve spilled so much precious blood that I’m starving. Time to wash up and get some food.”

Legend of a Small Fry

Legend of a Small Fry

Status: Ongoing
The world's greatest master? No. A great hero from a prestigious righteous sect? No. He is just a common, timid third-rate martial artist in the martial world. Through coincidence, misunderstanding, and a stroke of fate, he is reborn as a mysterious master of the martial world. The survival story of a third-rate Small Fry with the heart of a master.

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