The air in the pavilion was thick, heavy with the weight of an audience's judgment. Lanterns hung from carved beams overhead, casting warm light across polished wooden floors. The giant across from Jin was a mountain of muscle, nearly seven feet tall and with a chest like a fortress wall. In his hands was a sword—no, a slab of steel shaped into a sword—that seemed more fit to split boulders than duel men.
Jin stood barefoot on the smooth floor, rolling his shoulders. His new boots lay discarded in the corner after he had loudly cursed them for being "slippery traitors." His chains had been removed for the fight, and the guards now watched with grim expressions, as though they were here to witness his last moments.
The noble girl sat primly on a raised platform beside her father, the strange black-and-purple-winged cat curled on her lap. She looked smug, her lips curved into a small, victorious smirk.
The gong rang.
The giant moved first, his steps like drumbeats, sword raised high. Jin sidestepped the first swing, the blade cutting the air with a low, ominous whistle. His heart pounded.
He had no plan.
He had no sword.
He had no idea what this man's fighting style was.
And worst of all—he hadn't practiced Tide Root Style in… well, since whenever it was that he last fought for real.
Yet, as the giant's second swing came down, Jin's body moved. His feet shifted with perfect balance, his torso rotated just enough to let the blade miss by inches, his hands brushing against the giant's arm to redirect the strike.
It wasn't thinking.
It wasn't strategy.
It was something deeper.
His body remembered even if his mind didn't.
The giant grunted and swung again, this time in a sweeping arc meant to cleave Jin in half. Jin dropped into a low crouch, palm skimming the floor as he pivoted out of range. The crowd murmured. His movements were sharp, precise—those of someone trained in an art they didn't fully understand themselves.
"Hey!" Jin called up at the man between dodges, his voice dripping with mockery. "Do you actually know how to use that thing, or is this your first time holding a sword that big?"
The giant didn't answer—whether because he didn't understand Jin's words or because he was too focused on killing him was unclear.
Jin danced around the blade, occasionally darting forward to feint, only to leap back before the sword could counter. He stuck his tongue out at the noble girl. She stuck hers back.
But the truth was starting to set in.
Wait. What's the penalty if I lose?
He vaguely remembered someone saying something about death.
Death was… bad.
Even worse, if he died, Ruan would kill him again.
That thought made him shiver just enough to mistime a dodge. His foot slipped on the polished wood.
WHAM.
Jin landed flat on his face, the entire pavilion echoing with laughter. The noble girl laughed the loudest, a sweet, cruel sound that made Jin want to trip her next. The giant grinned and raised his sword high.
Jin pushed himself halfway up, saw the shadow of the blade above him, and sighed.
"Well… guess this is it. Maybe I'll be reborn as a cat. Yeah. That'd be nice."
The blade fell.
And broke.
A deafening crack rang through the room as the steel shattered upon contact with Jin's shoulder, shards scattering across the floor. The giant froze. The noble girl's smile died on her lips. Even the cat tilted its head in curiosity.
Jin blinked. He was still alive. "I'M ALIVE!" he shouted, leaping to his feet in triumph. Then, catching himself, he adjusted his stance and said coolly, "Of course I'm alive. I knew that would happen."
But deep in his chest, something stirred—a memory. Not of a technique, but of the truth.
He wasn't normal. His body was far beyond normal. He had forgotten how strong he was.
A grin crept across his face, slow and wicked.
The giant saw it and charged, perhaps thinking Jin was bluffing. Jin didn't move. He let the man close the gap, swordless now but still deadly with sheer size and strength.
Then Jin punched.
The impact was like thunder. The giant's feet left the ground. He sailed through the air—five feet, ten, twenty—until he crashed out of the pavilion entirely, smashing through a row of decorative pillars outside.
The pavilion went silent. The noble girl's eyes were wide. The guards tightened their grips on their weapons but didn't dare move.
The nobleman, her father, didn't even blink. His gaze was fixed on Jin with new weight. This wasn't just some reckless foreigner. This was something… dangerous.
Meanwhile, Jin was staring at his fist in horror.
"...Did I just kill a guy? Oh, crap. That's… that's bad. That's another crime."
Something brushed against his leg. Jin jumped before looking down to see the strange cat, its bat-like wings twitching faintly. It stared up at him with a slow blink before hopping into his arms as though it had always belonged there.
"Finally!" Jin hugged it tightly, spinning around in victory while the whole room stared in a mix of fear and disbelief.
For Jin, the only thing that mattered was that he got the cat.
For everyone else, the only thing that mattered was that they had just seen a monster disguised as a man.
The steam from the porcelain cups curled upward like pale ribbons, carrying a scent that Jin had never quite tasted before—soft, floral, and faintly sweet. He stared at the pale pink hue in the cup before him.
Jin: "Cherry blossoms? You drink flowers here?"
(His voice was skeptical, but there was that thin curve to his lips, as if he already knew he would drink it anyway.)
The nobleman chuckled politely, settling across from him. The strange cat had claimed Jin's lap as its throne, curling up but keeping its eyes half-open, almost as if it was eavesdropping.
Town Chief: "It is not merely drinking flowers, honored guest. The blossoms are a symbol of fleeting beauty, of years passing like the wind. To drink them is to remember that nothing—be it joy or sorrow—lasts forever."
Jin raised a brow at that, his hand absently stroking the cat's silver-tipped fur.
Jin: "Hmph. Fleeting beauty? You speak like a poet. But I imagine you pour more tea than wisdom most days."
The Chief smiled as if unoffended. "Sometimes tea carries more wisdom than swords," he said, pouring Jin another cup.
The Daughter's Offense
The Chief's eyes flicked toward the courtyard where his daughter had disappeared earlier, cheeks flushed from shouting at Jin.
Town Chief: "I hope my daughter's… sharp tongue… did not leave too bitter a taste."
Jin leaned back, balancing his cup in one hand, smirking.
Jin: "A thief should know no joy."
(He said it lazily, watching the Chief's reaction with fox-like eyes.)
The Chief chuckled politely, though his gaze held the faintest frown. "I shall see to it that she learns respect. Though…" His eyes narrowed just slightly. "…respect is something earned, is it not?"
Jin's smirk thinned, just for a second.
The Pretend Master
Jin decided to switch tactics. He didn't feel like explaining how a "nobody" like him could move so quickly, strike so hard, and carry himself with such confidence. So he tilted his head, speaking as if every word was deliberate bait.
Jin: "Your daughter's offense aside, I forgive it. A master must have a patient heart."
The Chief's brows rose. "Master? May I ask of which school?"
Jin: "A school long gone to dust."
(His voice lowered, almost reverent, but it was pure performance.)
"My teachings are for those who can listen without hearing, and see without eyes."
The Chief seemed intrigued rather than doubtful, which made Jin inwardly grin.
The Question about the Emperor
They sipped in silence for a while, the only sound being the gentle lap of the cat's tail against Jin's leg. Then Jin leaned forward slightly, as if speaking idly:
Jin: "Tell me, since you are a man of this land… what do you know of Emperor Nian-Shen Xueli?"
The Chief's eyes widened a fraction. "That is a name I have not heard spoken aloud in… many, many years."
Jin tilted his head, hiding his keen interest. "Old history then?"
The Chief placed his cup down with care.
Town Chief: "Very old. He was the ruler of the Eastern Expanse more than four centuries ago. His reign was one of iron discipline and unmatched military expansion. Some called him the Phoenix Emperor, for he was said to rise from his own death in battle to claim victory."
Jin's mind turned. Four centuries…? His hands remained steady, but inwardly, pieces of his own fragmented memories shifted uneasily.
Jin: "And what happened to him?"
The Chief's expression darkened. "History is unclear. Some say he was betrayed from within his court. Others say he ascended to the Heavens as a Martial King, some say he died of old age."
The Martial King
Jin feigned ignorance here, letting his eyes narrow slightly.
Jin: "Martial King… an old man once spoke that term to me, but I'd like to hear it from you."
The Chief folded his hands.
Town Chief: "A Martial King is one who has reached the pinnacle of Martial arts and form someone whose mere presence bends the will of Heaven. They command armies without speaking, split mountains without lifting a blade. In ancient times, a Martial King was equal to a nation's fate itself. But such figures… belong to history now."
Jin gave a low, almost mocking laugh.
Jin: "So… kings among men, yet slaves to time."
The Chief regarded him with a searching gaze. "Indeed. Even the mightiest cannot outrun the years."
The cat on Jin's lap flicked its ear, almost in agreement, while Jin sipped his tea with a half-smile, his thoughts now far from the table—turning over what he had just learned, and what it meant for when he truly was.