"We haven't identified the specific identity yet; there's no matching information on hand."
The tall, thin swordsman wearing the White Fox Mask shook his head. "However, some beggars at the dock witnessed the person disembarking from a passing cargo ship the night before last."
"Running into the kid from the Sakuraba Family was probably just a coincidence, a ploy to deceive the boy and obtain the qualification to participate."
"A clueless nobody."
The middle-aged man dressed in luxurious clothing picked up his coffee cup, gently rubbing the rim. "Then let him enjoy the same treatment as the Sakuraba kid. Stuff his group with some troublesome opponents."
"Yes, Boss."
...
The line at the registration area was long.
While waiting, Xiano idly looked around and soon noticed a curved wall on the north side of the square.
The wall displayed the emblems of the seven great dojos in a row, but in the center, there was a glaring blank space.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed to have been repainted.
"That spot used to have the Sakurazaki Emblem, didn't it?"
"Yes," Junichi nodded gloomily. "Actually, two patterns were erased. One was the emblem of our Sakuraba Dojo, and the other was the Kendo Guild's."
"The Kendo Guild? Was that also founded by your father?"
"Not entirely. To be precise, it was established together with the heads of several other dojos. My father played a leading role and was later elected as the guild's chairman."
Xiano clicked his tongue. "Sounds like your father had a lot of prestige. I heard from you earlier that after his passing, the Sakuraba Dojo faced a lot of pressure and attacks. I thought it might have been because he angered a lot of people."
"Probably because they thought I, who took over as the dojo head, wasn't worthy of the position," Junichi said with a bitter smile.
"Tsk, here we go again. Stop beating yourself up over nothing, kid! Remember that! … By the way, you mentioned earlier that your father died in an accident five years ago?"
"Yes, it was a shipwreck."
Junichi nodded, his expression turning nostalgic. "It happened just a few days before the swordsmanship tournament. There was a storm in the northern waters of the island, and the guild received a distress signal saying two ships carrying participating swordsmen had capsized."
"My father happened to be at the guild that day. He put down the Den Den Mushi and rushed to the rescue with some of the senior disciples from the Sakuraba Dojo. In the end… none of them returned."
Xiano fell silent for a moment.
"Your father was a good man," he sighed. "Unfortunately, in this vast sea, good people don't always get good outcomes."
"…" Junichi didn't know what to say. After a while, he whispered, "Thank you."
Xiano patted him on the back.
"By the way, there's something else that's quite strange."
Junichi thought of something else and looked at the row of dojo emblems.
"When the guild was still around, there was a place for everyone to discuss and negotiate. The adults often argued, and when disciples from different dojos met on the streets, they'd frequently challenge each other to compete for rankings."
"But after the guild disappeared, the seven great dojos gradually started to act as one, becoming as close as family. For example, this new rule about paying fees to participate in the tournament was immediately implemented as soon as rumors spread among the public. There was no sign of any dispute or opposition."
The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. Frustrated, he slapped his head hard, "Ah~, feels like my brain cells are about to burn out. It's just so weird, it doesn't make any sense at all..."
As close as family?
Xiano fell into deep thought, then suddenly, a shiver ran down the back of his neck as if he sensed something. He quickly turned around, squinting towards a nearby café.
The entrance on the first floor was bustling with people, but the balcony on the second floor was completely empty.
His sharp gaze swept up and down, eventually locking onto a spot—a round table near the balcony railing, where two cups of coffee that hadn't yet cooled were still emitting faint wisps of steam.
"What's wrong?" Junichi asked curiously.
"Nothing."
Xiano slightly shook his head and withdrew his gaze.
Looking at the line in front of them, which had shortened significantly, he smiled and said:
"Let's not talk about this for now. It's almost our turn to draw lots for the groups. I hope we don't meet too early. Let's both make it to the finals and take the top two spots, how about that?"
"Alright! Let's do our best together!"
Junichi clenched his fist and waved it, "And! Don't look so sure about winning the championship. When we get to the final stage, you better be careful. I won't lose as embarrassingly as before!"
...
The results of the group draw came out quickly.
Xiano was placed in Group B, while Junichi was in Group C.
According to the rules of the Sea Selection, each had to compete in five rounds against Swordsmen from Groups A and D. Only those who won all their matches could advance to the quarterfinals first.
"Ha, looks like we won't meet at all during the entire Sea Selection."
Junichi was in an increasingly good mood, whistling as he held the draw sheet.
"Mr. Xiano, I'll head over to Group C then. See you at noon?"
"Sure, go ahead. I'll finish my matches as quickly as possible and come find you."
Watching Junichi leave, Xiano glanced once more at the café before heading to his assigned competition area.
By now, most of the wooden platforms scattered across the square were occupied, with progress varying.
Some had just started their matches, while others had already finished and were resting.
After all, there were so many Swordsmen participating in the Sea Selection, so this was the most efficient way.
"Sea Selection AB Area, Seventh Match! Contestant number 120, Xiano, versus contestant number 28, Xika!"
The corner platform quickly gathered a crowd of spectators. As the announcer's voice fell, both contestants stood at opposite ends of the platform.
Xika was a bald, burly man, towering at about 2.3 meters tall.
The bamboo sword in his hand was noticeably larger, both in thickness and length, drawing attention.
"Can you choose different styles when buying a bamboo sword?"
Xiano was slightly surprised.
"You don't even know that? Ha, what a fool!"
The bald Xika laughed heartily, "Some rookie who's unlucky enough to meet your Uncle Xika in the first round."
"But don't worry, I won't let you suffer for long. Your Uncle Xika here is a kind-hearted man, I'll end your pain quickly!"
"Both of you, remember the rules! You can only attack each other with bamboo swords, no direct contact with hands or feet. The one who falls off the platform loses, and the opponent directly advances to the next round! Understood?"
Both nodded.
"Good, then I declare!" The referee raised his hand sharply, "The match begins!"
As soon as the words fell.
Thud!
A dull, heavy sound of a strike echoed.
With a scream, the massive two-meter-tall figure was sent flying, crashing to the ground several meters away with a resounding thud.
"What a coincidence, I'm a good person too."
A calm voice came from the wooden platform.
The surrounding spectators fell into complete silence. The referee stood frozen, his hand still suspended in mid-air, not yet having had the chance to lower it.
Xiano slid the bamboo sword back into his waistband, then turned to the referee, who had turned into a statue, and offered a polite smile:
"Sorry, I'm in a bit of a hurry. Could we just move on to the next match, please?"
(End of Chapter)