Chapter 67: The Beginning of the Challenge

At this moment, Nightstar’s target was the master of a place called the Matsushita Kendo Hall. Only the master was qualified to represent the hall in accepting challenges, and their strength was usually the greatest among all within. Arriving before a building reminiscent of a Japanese courtyard, he found several young men standing at the entrance with wooden swords in hand. Their eyes shone with spirit uncommon among ordinary people, revealing that their skills, too, were quite remarkable.

Nightstar was absolutely certain that this Matsushita Kendo Hall ranked among the top ten strongest dojos. Only the last few spots were disputed; the halls at the top were universally recognized, and the Matsushita Kendo Hall before him was generally considered the third strongest.

As Nightstar approached, the young men guarding the entrance immediately stepped forward to block his way. He halted, fixing his gaze upon them and asked, “Is there something you need?”

His ethereal bearing and distinctive starry eyes made the group pause in surprise. Realizing their reaction, they grew a little embarrassed—after all, it was poor manners to stare blankly at a stranger on a first meeting. Yet their manners were commendable, and one replied, “Apologies. Are you here to join the dojo? We aren’t accepting new students at the moment; typically, we only recruit in February and August. However, if you’re truly interested, I could inform someone for you.”

They had noticed the wooden sword in Nightstar’s hand and the cloth bag slung over his shoulder, likely containing another sword or similar weapon. Assuming he had come to study kendo, they responded routinely, although they sensed he was no ordinary person and thus did not refuse him outright.

“No need. I’m here to challenge.” The young men’s attitude was polite enough, so Nightstar did not respond rudely, though his tone remained cold.

“A challenge?” The group was surprised by Nightstar’s answer, but on reflection, it seemed reasonable. He did not appear to be an ordinary person, and carrying a wooden sword suggested he was neither a student nor a visitor—so he must be a challenger. Such things were not unheard of.

In this city, it was common for kendo halls to send their best disciples to challenge others, seeking honor and prestige. However, the Matsushita Kendo Hall was so powerful that it had held a top-three position for ages, and challenges had become rare. Besides, there had been no whispers of a genius emerging from any other hall recently, so Nightstar’s appearance was unexpected.

“Oh, very well. Please come with us.” Two of them offered to lead Nightstar inside, while the others remained at their posts. Their manner did not change much, as if well accustomed to such events.

Nightstar followed them through the courtyard, passing many students in training attire. Along the way, several greeted his escorts. Those assigned to guard the entrance were never weak. One, curious, asked, “So, who are you here to challenge? Our hall’s students are quite skilled, you know. You may find yourself defeated.”

“I’m here to challenge the master.” Nightstar did not mind being mistaken for someone seeking to challenge a student—his youthful appearance was misleading, and few would suspect his true strength.

“The master?” If their earlier surprise was mild, now they were utterly shocked. How old could this boy be? He could not have studied kendo for more than three years, yet he dared to challenge the master—how conceited must he be?

“You must not know our master’s reputation. You’d be wise to reconsider. Our master is renowned throughout the country.” They tried to dissuade him, hoping he would abandon the idea.

“No, I must challenge all twelve kendo halls.” Nightstar’s response left them baffled, but he walked on by himself to a spacious hall, having already located the room where the strongest gathered.

“Greetings. You must be the master. I am here to challenge you.” Nightstar’s words were simple, with no hint of provocation. His sharp gaze bore straight into the middle-aged man kneeling at the far end of the room, eyes closed in meditation.

Sensing Nightstar’s presence, the master snapped open his eyes, a sharp light flashing from them. He looked at the unexpectedly young challenger at the door, then nodded solemnly. “Very well.”

“He actually accepted!” The two who had followed Nightstar in were astonished. Their master rarely accepted challenges, and when he did, it meant the opponent was worthy of battle.

“This youth is not as simple as he appears.” Everyone in the room had the same thought, silently memorizing Nightstar’s appearance, eager to see what brilliance he might display.

The news that the master had accepted a challenge spread through the entire hall in an instant. Both new and seasoned students set aside their practice—some out of curiosity, others to learn from the spectacle. The hall, apart from the combat area, was soon crowded with onlookers, and many more pressed to the windows to watch.

“Heh, everyone loves a spectacle. I hope you don’t mind their presence,” the master said kindly, knowing that such an audience could be daunting.

“I don’t. Can we begin?” Nightstar, growing impatient, urged him on.

“Young people truly lack patience these days. Very well, let us begin.” With a few teasing words, the middle-aged master grasped his wooden sword in both hands. The blade pointed at Nightstar, and in an instant, he transformed from a kindly man into a warrior poised for battle, his aura shifting to reveal his remarkable mastery in kendo.

But in Nightstar’s eyes, there was nothing worthy of note. The master’s talent was only somewhat above average; in terms of swordsmanship, he was inferior even to the captain of the kendo club that Nightstar had seen at Fuji Academy. This fight would not demand his full attention.

He took up his wooden sword in one hand, standing simply before his opponent, making no special stance. The master frowned at this—standing so casually was one thing, but Nightstar hadn’t even removed the bag from his back. Did he not care that it might hinder him?

“Young man, don’t you think you’re being a bit arrogant? You don’t even adopt a stance, nor do you remove that bag. Aren’t you worried it will hamper your movements? Or do you believe you don’t need to take it off to fight me?” The master, feeling disrespected, grew angry.

“For certain reasons, I cannot remove it. But don’t worry, it won’t affect me,” Nightstar replied. The Twin Fantasy Blades could not be separated from him in their normal state, and he had no choice but to keep them. In any case, it did not hinder him.

“Very well, I shall begin.”