Europe? Africa?

Europe and Africa

As the noonday sun shifted slightly across the sky, the Imperial Martial Competition resumed.

The Fist Group competed first. Eleven contestants lined up neatly on the platform and listened as the referee forcefully explained the rules.

The rules were similar to what Genma and the others had previously guessed. To prevent contestants from expending too much stamina, the matches would be decided by drawing lots. In other words, one person would advance directly to the semifinals.

To everyone's surprise, Ebisu stepped in dog shit and got that opportunity.

What the others did not know was that in his next match, Ebisu would have to coast through a fixed match—or simply forfeit. His good luck was practically nonexistent.

Still, given Ebisu's personality, the fewer matches he had to fight, the better. Moving a lounge chair over to bask in the sun and read a book would have suited him perfectly.

Might Guy, who had not drawn the bye, was wildly excited and walked off the platform on his hands.

To him, the more matches, the better. Getting to fight more powerful opponents was exactly what he wanted.

There were five matches in total, but Guy was not scheduled to go first. Instead, he was placed in the third round.

Yet the moment he stepped onto the platform in his Watermelon Head haircut and all-green outfit, the audience recognized him, and the stands erupted.

It had to be said that Guy was extremely popular now. As a fellow Taijutsu expert, his opponent felt more than a little sour about it.

"Hey, kid, don't get cocky just because you won one or two matches. This isn't child's play. You'd better take it seriously!"

Watching Guy walk onto the stage on his hands again, his opponent's mouth twitched.

Guy's opponent was not very tall, but he was solidly built, with exceptionally developed muscles. Still, the most eye-catching thing about him was his hairstyle.

It was a completely bald head—the kind that made even a bright winter day feel chilly.

Who knew whether that was fashionable or simply how strong people were supposed to look? Quite a few of the contestants below the stage had bald heads. The sword users, however, still had all their hair, and some even had long flowing locks. Comparing the two groups made them seem like refined gentlemen and uncouth brutes.

Of course, such differences did not matter. Both events were equally important; otherwise, the competition would not have been divided into two groups, each with its own champion and runner-up.

Guy did not understand which event was more important. The moment the referee shouted for the match to begin, he charged straight at his opponent.

In their first exchange, both sides tested each other out. Whether in strength or speed, Guy still had the edge, which shocked the bald man.

But he did not lose heart. His eyes widened in fury, and every move he made was as direct as possible, devastatingly precise and deadly with every strike.

Guy also realized that this opponent differed from those he had faced before, so he immediately chose to defend.

Although Guy mainly trained Taijutsu on his own, Taijutsu was not just about strength. He had also trained his agility and reactions tirelessly.

Thus, once Might Guy chose to defend, the bald man felt utterly miserable. It would have been one thing if Guy were merely fast, but his reactions were just as quick. The man could not land a single effective attack. And Might Guy's muscles were absurdly tough. After punching for so long, the bald man's hands hurt.

Guy had the larger surface area taking the blows, so the bald man naturally ended up more injured. Feeling his hands grow increasingly painful, the bald man was so aggrieved he nearly cried.

Did he have to be such a monster? He was clearly so much younger, yet his muscles were so solid that the man was nearly unable to keep hitting him...

But a man's pride made the bald man endure the pain, while his experiences on the battlefield had taught him how to turn grief into rage. Before long, his eyes turned bloodshot.

"Ahhh! You brat, you've made me angry!"

It was a tired old threat, but coming from the bald man's mouth, it truly sounded vicious.

After throwing several punches and realizing they were ineffective, the bald man clasped his hands together like a hammer, leaped into the air, and smashed them down at Guy.

Guy noticed the attack immediately. Before the competition, he had spoken with Genma, who had told him to pay attention to flexibility in Taijutsu battles, as it would help him fight longer.

That advice had originally been meant to help Guy perform better in the Land of This war, but now Guy wanted to put Genma's words to the test.

Seeing the bald man's nearly all-out strike coming at him, Guy neither dodged nor retreated. With his extraordinary reflexes and nimble movements, he caught the man's hammer blow. Before the man could recover from his shock, Guy pulled him in the direction of his momentum and flung him away.

However, no one who had reached the finals was ordinary. Though the bald man was thrown aside, he struggled for a while before getting back to his feet.

Guy's Taijutsu was already infinitely close to Chunin level. Not to mention the man before him, there were only a handful of people in the entire Land of This who could defeat him.

The bald man still did not understand what kind of existence he was facing, so he charged at Guy again. But his heavy injuries hindered his movements, and Guy flashed behind him.

"Ha! Invincible Whirlwind!"

Invincible Whirlwind consisted of two consecutive attacks: a high kick followed by a low kick. The speed was so fast that the bald man was kicked away as though his body had come apart. This time, after being sent flying, he could not get back up.

"The third-round match goes to Might Guy!"

"Might Guy! Might Guy! Might Guy..."

The crowd no longer called Guy the Whirlwind Kid. Now they were shouting his name. It was another rise in recognition, and Guy was deeply moved.

After all, the finals were different from the preliminaries. There would be more experts, and they would be stronger. By winning the opening round of the finals, Guy's strength had been fully acknowledged by the audience.

Yet Guy maintained his previous attitude, bowing to thank the crowd as he stepped down from the platform.

After two more Fist Group matches, the opening round of the Fist Group finals officially ended. Only then did the eleven Swordsmanship Group contestants take the stage.

Just like in the Fist Group, the rules only added the use of wooden swords. The format was otherwise exactly the same.

While everyone else eagerly opened their slips, Genma deliberately glanced at Daido, silently hoping that guy would not get a bye.

But the moment he saw his own draw, he was completely dumbfounded...

Blank. It was even whiter than his face...

To others, it was tremendous luck, but for Genma, it was the last thing he wanted to see.

He had just cursed someone else not to get a bye, only to get one himself. Karma had come far too quickly...

Just as Genma was on the verge of tears, Raidō walked over with a dejected look on his face.

"Genma, what number did you get? I actually didn't get a bye. My luck's usually so good..."

Shiranui Genma was dumbfounded.

Hadn't they agreed to take Daido down together?

Since when was getting a bye considered good luck?

Did the Roasted Meat deal still count or not?

After roaring inwardly, Genma glared at Raidō and flung the slip he had drawn straight into his face.

"To hell with your good luck!"

"Hey, hey, what's going on? Isn't getting a bye a good thing?"

The slip stuck to Raidō's mouth, making his words muffled. As for taking Daido down, he remembered it, but hadn't taken it too seriously. Instead, he envied Ebisu even more for being able to rest and advance straight to the next round.

To him, enjoying one meal of roasted meat was nowhere near as good as watching others fight to the death while he sat there snacking and taking in the scenery.

Only after seeing Genma leave the arena did he finally look at Genma's slip.

A blank sheet!

Was Genma's luck really that good?

Thinking of how furious Genma had been just now, Namiashi Raidō suddenly understood. For Genma, this apparently wasn't good luck at all—it was rotten luck of the highest order.

But then he remembered how Kurenai had pieced together Genma's intentions from a few clues, then pressured him into revealing the truth. Raidō immediately felt the two of them were actually quite well suited.

Shaking his head and clearing away those random thoughts, Namiashi Raidō stepped down from the arena.

After watching two tense and thrilling swordsmanship matches, the fire in Raidō's heart had gradually been stirred as well. Excitement shone in his eyes, and he looked ready to rush up and have a proper fight.

By sheer coincidence, the third match was his. But when his name was called, Daido—the cold-faced man Genma had been watching all along—also started moving.

That meant Raidō's opponent would be Daido...

Genma was stunned...

Heaven really knew how to toy with people...

Did Raidō's luck really have to be this good!?

Filled with jealousy and irritation, Genma hurried over to Raidō. "Hey, Raidō, do you know who your opponent is?"

"Oh? Who is it?" Namiashi Raidō slowed his pace slightly, glanced at Genma, then looked back toward the arena. The cold-faced Daido, whom Genma had been angry about for so long, was walking onto it.

"Uh... did I just hit the jackpot?"

"Hmph, you're still saying that? You clearly stole my jackpot!!" Shiranui Genma grew even more jealous, practically burning with envy. But when he remembered that this was still an opportunity, he suppressed his anger. It wouldn't be as satisfying as doing it himself, but something was better than nothing. "Remember, if you injure him, you get one roasted meat meal. If you beat him, you get three. Don't underestimate him. As for how to deal with him, figure it out yourself!"

Genma had truly made up his mind. From Raidō's earlier reaction, one meal's worth of meat clearly hadn't been enough incentive. In this world, there was nothing a roasted meat meal couldn't solve. If one wasn't enough, then add a few more.

Sure enough, Raidō's face was now flushed red, his nostrils flared, and he was breathing heavily, as though he could transform into a bull the moment he charged forward.

Genma had no idea whether this state was good or bad. The heavy reward had already been offered; whether it worked would depend entirely on the guy himself.

Namiashi Raidō strode toward the center of the arena with what he thought was an imposing, world-dominating gait.

But before he reached the center, the referee stopped him. "Contestant, your condition seems a little off."

"Huh? Huh? How could it be? I was just too excited, too excited, hahahaha!"

There were quite a few drugs in the Shinobi World that could temporarily enhance one's physical abilities, so when he was suddenly suspected, Namiashi Raidō became quite worried.

"Hm, hard to say. But you seem to have recovered a little now, so it probably wasn't because you took anything." The referee held his chin and frowned, making Namiashi Raidō panic even more.

In this era, drug testing methods had yet to appear. Although there was no way to test whether someone had taken drugs, there was still a crude method.

That was to wait for the effects to wear off.