Chapter 9 - Confrontation at White Fang Hollow
The White Fang Hollow wasn't much from the outside—just a quiet tea house nestled between a dye merchant and a lantern stall, with faded tiles and muted windchimes that hummed a lazy song in the breeze. The villagers nearby gave it a wide berth. Not because of fear, but habit. It was the kind of place where people disappeared after loud conversations and polite tea.
Asura crossed the threshold.
Inside, the air was heavy with fragrant steam and quiet murmurs. A dozen patrons sat cross-legged on woven mats, sipping from lacquered bowls. But all noise dulled when they saw him.
At the far end of the room, surrounded by two half-armored men and a clerk with ink-stained fingers, lounged a man draped in layered silk—sharp features, thin beard, and rings too ornate for someone in this backwater place.
Yurako.
His eyes flicked up lazily. "You're not one of my usual clients."
Asura didn't sit. "I'm not here for tea."
Yurako raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.
"No? Then speak your business. I dislike wasting words, especially from strangers."
"I heard you've been threatening a dying clan for a bit of land and a name you'll never understand," Asura said, voice calm but direct.
Silence.
Then a snort from the bodyguard to Yurako's left.
Yurako leaned forward, folding his hands. "Ah. The Tsuyoi. Always clinging to faded glory. That old man must've begged you, didn't he? What is he offering—stories of moonlight martial arts? Glory from forgotten wars?" He chuckled. "Let me guess. He promised you legacy?"
Asura's expression didn't shift. "I don't need promises. Just facts. You're harassing a sacred ground. You'll stop. Today."
Laughter rippled from the two guards. Yurako didn't join them.
"You must be one of the new adventurers. Powerful, maybe… but short-sighted. You think this world bends to strength? You think one raised voice will stop the wheels already turning?" He gestured toward the clerk beside him. "I've already filed transfer papers with the magistrate. This time next week, the dojo will be mine. Legal. Untouchable."
"Then you have a week to regret it," Asura said flatly.
[Foreshadow Activated]
A faint shimmer outlined the inked scroll beside Yurako. A small golden thread lingered—proof of falsification, stamped with the seal of a corrupt scribe. Evidence waiting to be revealed.
Asura's eyes narrowed. "You forged the claim."
That got a reaction. The guards stepped forward, eyes narrowed, hands drifting toward their weapons. Yurako's smile faltered for half a breath.
"You're bold," the noble said slowly, "but careless."
When Asura didn't move, Yurako gave the signal with a flick of his fingers. The guards lunged.
The first guard swung a spiked baton downward, but Asura flowed sideways, catching the man's arm mid-swing and twisting. A sickening crunch echoed as the joint dislocated. He spun, driving a knee into the man's gut, then slammed him over his shoulder into a lacquered table that splintered beneath the impact.
The second guard was faster. His blade flashed, drawing a shallow line along Asura's forearm.
[Backlash Triggered – 2x Retaliation]
Dark red energy pulsed from the wound as Asura's counterstrike landed—a backfist to the throat followed by a heel kick to the knee. Bone snapped, and the man crumpled with a wheeze.
Panic erupted. Glass shattered. Patrons scrambled for cover. Dishes clattered to the floor as the room descended into chaos.
Yurako stood now, pale and rigid. His hand drifted toward his belt, where a concealed dagger waited.
Asura's shadow stretched unnaturally across the woven mats, curling like smoke.
[Asura Aura – Passive Activated]
The temperature dropped. Condensation formed on the windows. One tea bowl cracked under the pressure.
Asura's voice was low but firm. "Leave the Tsuyoi alone, or I'll burn down everything you're trying to build—starting with your reputation."
Yurako froze, the dagger untouched.
He stared at Asura, visibly weighing the risks. Then, slowly, he lowered his hand and straightened the cuffs of his robe.
"You'll regret crossing me," he said.
"Add it to the list."
Quest Updated: Echoes of the Tsuyoi – Phase I
Optional Objective Completed: Confront Yurako in public and expose the forged deed.
New Thread Discovered: The Village Magistrate may be compromised.
Asura turned on his heel, leaving the tea house behind. The patrons exhaled as if a storm had passed.
Outside, wind stirred again—fresh and cold.
And behind him, Yurako's calm shattered as he hurled his tea across the room.
The magistrate's hall stood just off the central plaza, adorned in crimson banners bearing the emblem of the Crown. Unlike most of the village, it was constructed from polished stone and darkwood—too pristine, too well-funded. The guards at the gate glanced up as Asura approached, but didn't stop him. Not after what happened at White Fang Hollow, word traveled fast.
He passed through the doors and into a marble-tiled corridor where a young scribe bowed hastily before guiding him to a raised chamber. A semi-circle desk stood at its center, and behind it lounged Magistrate Leiyun—a slim man with a tidy beard and robes that shimmered faintly with a silk pattern of hawks in flight.
"Adventurer," Leiyun said with thinly veiled curiosity. "I expected you sooner."
"I came as soon as I could after dealing with a nuisance."
Leiyun raised a brow. "Ah. The matter of Yurako and the Tsuyoi dojo. Such drama over a forgotten ruin."
Asura stepped forward, eyes steady. "The deed transfer was falsified. I have reason to believe your clerk either made an error… or accepted a bribe."
The magistrate's smile didn't falter, but something in his gaze sharpened. "Those are serious accusations."
[Foreshadow Activated]
A shimmer passed over the desk. Asura saw the golden thread again—leading not to the scribe this time, but to Leiyun's own ledger.
He tilted his head. "You're right. So let's treat it seriously. Because if I push this to the village chief, your name goes with the documents."
The chamber grew still.
After a long pause, Leiyun exhaled. "…What do you want?"
"Annul the transfer. Return ownership of the dojo to the Tsuyoi. Mark it as sacred heritage land. And investigate Yurako's holdings for further abuse."
"You understand this will cause political waves. Yurako is not without patrons."
Asura's gaze hardened. "Neither am I."
Leiyun studied him a moment longer, then reached for his seal.
Quest Updated: Echoes of the Tsuyoi – Phase I Complete
Reward Gained: Clan Creation Token
Reputation Increased in Beginner Village: Notorious Guardian
With a quiet thunk, the seal landed on a new parchment. Leiyun offered it forward.
"The dojo is theirs again. But know this, adventurer: what you've stirred won't settle quietly."
Asura accepted the decree. "Good. I don't want it to."
Leiyun's voice followed him, laced with cool reason. "You know, once you leave this village… you won't be able to return."
Asura paused at the doorway.
"The path seals behind you. That dojo, that clan—everything here will become dust beneath your feet. Are you truly willing to stunt your growth for a rundown relic of a name? For a dying clan clinging to moonlit myths?"
Asura turned his head slightly. "Some relics shine brighter than gold. And some myths… are just truths forgotten."
Leiyun's expression didn't change, but his fingers tapped twice against the armrest—an unconscious twitch.
"You're young," he said. "Burning bright, drunk on power. But there's more beyond this village than you can possibly imagine. Don't waste that flame chasing ghosts."
Asura turned halfway, his gaze unreadable.
"I'm aware of the world's rules," he said evenly. "But they don't apply to me."
Leiyun's brow twitched, the faintest break in his practiced composure.
Asura stepped closer to the threshold, his presence shifting—subtle, but undeniable. "I'm not bound by the same strings that puppeteer everyone else. So your manipulation? It's wasted breath."
For a moment, silence weighed heavily in the chamber. The magistrate's fingers tightened slightly on the desk.
"You tread dangerous ground, adventurer."
"I prefer it," Asura replied. "It's where the real paths are forged."
He turned and left the chamber, footsteps echoing against the polished floor. Behind him, the magistrate sat motionless, eyes cold with calculation.
Outside, the plaza had quieted again. But the wind felt different now.
Change was coming.
That night, the streets around the dojo remained quiet—but only on the surface.
Shadows gathered on the rooftops and alleys. Dozens of mercenaries in plain clothes slipped into position, all moving toward the Tsuyoi grounds with silent coordination.
Inside, the old man rested beside the central hearth, unaware that his final test had arrived.
But Asura wasn't caught off guard.
He knew such greed wouldn't be taken down by mere words..
And the blood flowed swiftly.
By dawn, the bodies of the ambushers were strewn in the training yard, their limbs twisted and broken.
The dojo stood untouched.
And Asura, now cloaked in shadows and carrying the quiet weight of battle, returned once more to the magistrate's hall—his presence darker, his level slightly higher, a silent testament to the night's slaughter.
Leiyun never even had time to call for his guards.
And Yurako? His blood painted the floorboards of their manor, a silent mark of failure.
They had been given a second chance.
They squandered it.
Justice was served.
And the Tsuyoi would rise again.