Mystical Journey

"Traveler?"

The people around them began to make a commotion.

In the midst of the chatter, Lindsay left Garen carefully, going to stand beside the man with the big beard. Her old man the Captain also separated from the crowd, walking towards Garen with silver gun in hand.

The man’s face was covered in bristles, and he wore a blue round cap, his eyes bulging out somewhat, so he looked at others like a frog looked at insects, his gaze icy cold.

"You’re a traveler?" He did not wait for Garen’s reply, continuing, "I don’t care if you really are a traveler or not, since you’re on my boat, you’ll have to follow my rules."

He observed Garen’s clothes and appearance carefully, his expression relaxing ever so slightly.

What he did not say was that although there were many navigation routes through this part of the sea, there would not be ships going through the same area within at least three days of each other.

In other words, if this person really was a traveler who had been thrown overboard, then he must have survived alone in these waters for at least three days, soaking in the seawater for three days. What a preposterous thing… haha.

Putting aside how corrosive seawater was, it was very harmful to soak in it for long, and even drinking water here was a problem. Besides, there were periodically sea sharks in this area.

But he had heard that some strong martial artists had bodies that were exceeded normal limits.

"You are… a martial artist?" He thought about it, and asked quietly.

"Uh…" Garen did not understand that term for a moment, but after he translated it, he nodded slightly. "That’s right, I have trained before in martial arts."

"If you’re a martial artist, that makes sense." The Captain’s expression instantly softened, "May I ask, your name is…"

"Garen, Garen Trejons." Inwardly, Garen quietly added on that familiar last name, Garen Trejons Lombard.

******************

After some simple explanation and verification, Garen very ordinarily took on the identity of a lost traveler, and joined this ship, becoming one of the ship’s passengers.

The Weisman Captain seemed to have a lot of respect for martial artists, and asked no more about Garen’s identity. He did not ask Garen for any passenger fees either, even arranging a room for him enthusiastically, and getting his own daughter Lindsay to serve him in terms of food and drink.

After boarding the ship and settling down, Garen had not thought that just showing a little of what he could do with throwing knives, instantly arranging three throwing knives into a straight line, was enough to make the Captain’s attitude change so much.

Compared to the confusion and suspicion of the surrounding crew members, the Captain’s reaction was more surprising to him, this was evidently a person who knew the world and had knowledge of many things.

Two days after boarding the ship, Garen was arranged to stay in the VIP room in the passengers’ lounge, there were even some navigation books inside that he could read. For the past two days, he had been living, eating, and resting in his room, the injuries on his body recovering rapidly.

"Mr Garen." After tidying up the room, Lindsay looked at Garen with a look of anticipation, "Could you tell me some stories about you martial artists?"

This was not her first time serving martial artists, but although her attitude was very proper, her potential and appearance were also very important, her appearance missed the mark by a long shot in every way, and her talent was not particularly good either, so no matter how good her attitude was, most martial artists would just tell her some stories about basic knowledge, and that was to thank her for her good attitude. As for taking her as a disciple, they did not even consider it. As for those slightly weaker ones, she herself did not want them, those normal dojo masters probably could not even defeat her own old man.

"Stories?" Garen sat in the room, holding a ship captain’s journal as he drank some specially-imported black tea. "Speaking of stories, do you know about the Battle of the Black Smoke Pot Island?"

"Of course I know the Battle of the Black Smoke Pot Island." Lindsay nodded hard, "I heard that it was the peak of the era of Grandmasters of Combat, the two Kings of the Century faced off on the very peak of that island, but in the end the volcano erupted, and a nuclear bomb exploded, so they all fell there."

"Oh? You know it so well?" Garen was slightly surprised.

"Of course I do!" Lindsay answered matter-of-factly, "It was about more than sixty years ago now, that was the peak-level incident in the martial arts world. The Immortal Palace’s strongest fighter in history, Sylphalan, died in that battle."

"You even know the Immortal Palace?" Garen was suddenly interested. "More than sixty years?" He abruptly noticed that key term, and instantly fell silent.

"Of course I know, the Immortal Palace and the Demon Gate, they’re the two strongest powers in the combat world, they’re the two holy grounds of combat. They are the joint organizers of the Combat Festival tournament that happens once every three years. Our ship has ferried martial artists participating in the Combat Festival more than once!" Lindsay said, with a hint of pride.

"The Combat Festival?" Garen heard a new term again.

"It can’t be? You don’t even know that?" Lindsay’s eyes widened.

"I’ve always been training hard in the wilderness… So…" Garen shrugged to indicate that he truly did not know.

"The Combat Festival is an important tournament that the two powers use to rank and choose new generations of Grandmasters of Combat, not only do these include the Grandmasters of Combat in the traditional sense of the world, they also include mysterious martial artists who combine technology with their killing moves. It is held once every three years, and by now it’s been held more than ten times. I heard that the truly strong competitors will even be chosen by the two powers to become their official members." Lindsay walked to the chair opposite Garen and sat down, explaining patiently.

"More than sixty years…" Only then did Garen know, in the process of him returning, he also seemed to have used up far too much time.

As for the Combat Festival or whatnot, that was just the method the Immortal Palace and the Demon Gate were using to find new talent as well as weed out potential threats.

That Demon Gate was probably what used to be the Behemoth Gate, and that Immortal Palace might be the same Immortal Palace from back then, but he had not expected these two to grow so strong.

"Other than the Immortal Palace and the Demon Gate, are there any more powerful sects in the combat world?" He continued asking with a slight hint of anticipation.

"Other than these two… there are also the Black Fist Gate, the Crimson Sand Sword, and the Celestial Circle Gate. I don’t know the others, but these should be the main few."

"Is there a White Cloud Gate, or a Southern Sky Holy Fist Gate?" Garen paused for a bit, and asked.

"White Cloud Gate? That powerful sect that joined the Battle of the Black Smoke Pot, huh…" Lindsay seemed to remember now, "After that battle, the White Cloud Gate fell into obscurity, they only had that one extremely powerful Gate Master, after that the people from the Immortal Palace and the Demon Gate took revenge on them, apparently the losses and casualties were great, and most of their important legacies were lost as well. There is still a White Cloud Gate now, but it was a sect rebuilt by the some of the previous members, they don’t have any complete legacies from before, so they’re only considered a lowest-end sect."

She thought back carefully. "I used to want to watch the Combat Festival very badly, but I was blocked outside and could not go in, so I just wandered around outside for a few days, but afterward I bought a book introducing the different combat sects, and they mentioned a little bit about the White Cloud Gate.

"What about the Southern Sky Holy Fist Gate?" Garen fell silent for a moment, and continued asking.

"I’ve never heard of it before…." Lindsay shook her head, "That sect’s name sounds super impressive, are you from this sect, Mister?" She asked somewhat curiously.

Garen smiled, but did not reply.

In terms of his position, not only was he the White Cloud Gate Master, he was also the Southern Sky Holy Fist Gate’s number one Divine General. Sadly… these identities that were once so striking, after a mere sixty or so years, had become utterly unknown.

The White Cloud Gate had already fallen to such an extent, and the Southern Sky Holy Fist Gate, that had peak Grandmasters of Combat such as himself and Palosa, must have been suppressed by the Immortal Palace and the Behemoth Gate until it was unrecognizable.

******************

In the distant Azire Continent, a small town by the sea.

In a dilapidated old dojo’s old wooden halls, several young men and women stood in a row, obediently listening to what their young senior brother was saying in a loud voice.

"In the history of White Cloud Gate, we were once glorious as well."

The senior brother pointed at the sign above them proudly, facing his junior brothers and sisters.

"In our history, we once had two Divine General level Grandmasters of Combat, and four Divine Marshals, our power was definitely absolute, so as disciples of this gate, we must always remember the pride and glory of the past… Always remember the Three Prides and Three Sins as dictated by our Teacher Ancestors, do not forget our sect rules, be disciplined, shoulder the responsibility of developing and strengthening our sect, take pride in your identity as a disciple of this sect, you must…"

The senior brother continued on and on up there.

The few young girls and boys below him were all groggy from the lecture, but this weekly ideology class was compulsory.

Divine Generals, Divine Marshals? Nobody knew if those legendary levels actually existed before, they were just too far away from normal disciples like them. It was probably their Teacher Ancestor blowing their own horns.

These days, which small sect did not make up their own glorious history? If they had nothing to say even when bluffing, and could not intimidate those rich people into a daze, who would send their sons and daughters into the sects, and pay the tuition fees?

That was how the four or five young men and women down there were tricked into it.

Two were children from a small-time merchant, one was the daughter of an out-of-luck noble, and two of them came from normal families in town, one boy and one girl.

Out of these children, the youngest was only thirteen, and the oldest nineteen, having all entered the sect at different times. At first the White Cloud Gate had several dozen disciples and members, but the Iron Leg Gate nearby challenged them once, injuring some of the old masters and even grievously hurting the old Gate Master. So the disciples left and scattered, and after a few years, only these few were left of those from back then, added together with the newly-recruited ones.

Most of these children were here because of the cheap school fees, if it were not that they truly could not afford the other expensive dojos, nobody would be willing to be a disciple under this old and dilapidated lowest-level sect.

The First Senior Brother was still up there chattering away, as he thought about what the old man told him before he left. Good for that geezer, he had taken some of the sect’s senior and junior sisters to meet the Crimson Sand Sword’s invitation, helping out preparations for the Combat Festival next March.

Just thinking about it made this First Senior Brother really mad, that damn geezer kept bringing those few pretty ladies with him everywhere, there was no time to bond at all. Wasn’t the whole reason he joined in the first place because the White Cloud Gae had many pretty ladies?

The geezer’s three granddaughters, especially the youngest Lolloa, were practically white cabbages in this black mud, so tender and sweet…

"First Senior Brother, you’re drooling."

He instinctively wiped the corners of his mouth, but the First Senior Brother immediately noticed something amiss, his gaze sinking as he stared harshly at one of the blonde-haired boys beneath him, that boy was hiding behind a cool-looking young girl with black hair, his expression mischievous.

"Sit back in your own place! As a man, is it right for you to keep hiding behind your older sister!?"

The First Senior Brother scolded him, but his gaze was quietly wandering over the cool black-haired girl.

He had to admit, that old geezer’s eye for beauties was pretty good, and his taste was the best as well. Ever since the geezer took over as Palace Master, he had started adopting baby girls from all over the place, they looked all wrinkled and ugly when they were young, but after they grew up, each of them turned out to be pretty and tender young girls.

Putting aside their potential, there were several young male disciples who joined just for these pretty girls, if the Iron Leg Gate’s challenge had not chased away most of them, right now the sect would probably be expanding like anything.

Sigh… Who knows when that damn geezer is coming back…

Although the First Senior Brother was preaching ideology, his thoughts had long since flown away from here, floating towards those three cute ladies with the old geezer.