A New Fat Sheep Has Appeared

Ding--snap!

A coin was flicked up by a thumb, tossed into the air, and caught steadily as it fell rapidly. This repeated over and over.

Xianuo walked leisurely through the streets in the twilight, the rhythm of the coin rising and falling in his hand gradually matching his pace.

"Hm?"

He suddenly looked up.

Not far away, a huge, pale pink banner hung above the city gate, bearing the bold characters "Asagiri Island's 25th Dojo Tournament."

To the left stood a public notice board, surrounded by a bustling crowd.

"Excuse me, thanks."

With his strong and powerful physique, Xianuo easily pushed through the crowd and made his way to the notice board.

"You bastard--"

A few hoodlum-like youths, having been pushed aside, were initially furious and turned to confront him. However, upon seeing the muscular, imposing figure, they silently retreated back to their original positions.

"Sword tournament? Disciples from any sword dojo can participate. Registration fee is 10,000 Belly, deadline is tomorrow."

"1 million Belly for reaching the semifinals, 5 million Belly for the champion?"

The rewards are quite good, Xianuo was actually a little tempted.

It's a shame his swordsmanship is truly abysmal; it would be better not to embarrass himself.

More importantly, he had to find a ship to Goa Kingdom first thing tomorrow morning. Who knows how long this tournament would last? If it took a week or even half a month, he wouldn't have the time.

Xianuo shook his head and was about to cross the drawbridge to find an inn to rest in the city.

Suddenly, by the city walls, he saw that same skinny boy in a worn-out kendo uniform, staring blankly up at the banner, tightly gripping a bamboo sword, his eyes dull.

This is a good opportunity to return it to its rightful owner.

"Here, your money. Take it."

A cold, hard object was suddenly placed in his hand. The skinny boy was slightly startled and looked up at the burly man whose age was hard to guess.

"What is this..."

The skinny boy opened his palm, seemingly not yet recovered. When he saw the familiar coins, he finally understood and muttered, "Another scammer..."

"You don't seem surprised at all?" Xianuo raised an eyebrow. "Then I should be the one who's surprised."

"Ah, I can probably guess what's going on."

The skinny boy continued to stare at his palm. "After all, it's my mother's hometown. I lived here for a few years when I was young, and I've heard about the ways of those professional beggars."

"Then why did you give them money?"

"...There are still genuinely poor people. What if it could help?"

"Noble spirit, but that old guy didn't look right at all. Your ability to discern seems to need improvement."

"...Yes, I've had very little contact with the outside world since I was young. My experience is terrible, and my teacher has said the same thing."

"Teacher?"

Xianuo's gaze shifted to the bamboo sword the boy held. The hilt was wrapped in worn cloth, clearly having been used for a long time. "A kendo teacher?"

"Mm, you probably haven't heard of him."

Mentioning this, the skinny boy finally looked up, his tone full of reverence:

"But Mr. Koshiro is definitely a remarkable swordsman! To have the honor of being his disciple is the proudest thing in my life!"

Koshiro?

Xianuo was stunned. He had only come to return some coins, and now he had an unexpected gain?

Could this be the reward for being a good person?

He immediately became interested. "So, you came all the way from Isshin Dojo?"

"Eh! How did you know?" The other boy's eyes widened. "You've been to Shimotsuki Village too?"

"Not yet."

Then it all depends on you to take me there.

Shimotsuki Village was established only a few years ago and has a bit of a secluded, Peach Blossom Spring feel to it, even more remote than Cocoyasi Village.

Very few merchant ships pass through all year round. It's difficult to get there without your own ship.

Since the skinny boy in front of him was Koshiro's disciple, he must have a way to get back here. Xianuo just needed to follow him.

This one-month sea voyage was meant for him to gather resources everywhere.

If there were no other opportunities, but fate presented itself, how could he let go of this little fat sheep, classmate Liu Zoro?

"I've heard of Mr. Koshiro's great name before, so I knew," Xianuo said. "So, are you representing Isshin Dojo in this year's sword tournament?"

"No, no, no, I'm not capable of representing Mr. Koshiro."

The scrawny youth hurriedly waved his hands in panic, as if afraid of soiling the Isshin Dojo's reputation. "Besides, the Asagiri Island sword fighting tournament doesn't accept registrations from outside disciples. Only dojos officially registered on the island are eligible."

"As for my other identity..."

He suddenly snapped to attention and bowed deeply. "Ah! I haven't introduced myself yet, how rude! My name is Sakuraba Junichi, and I am the current master of the Sakuraba Dojo on the island."

Dojo master?

Xianuo only then noticed that the young man named Junichi had a faded family crest embroidered on the cuffs of his kendo uniform and on his left chest.

Though washed pale and blurry, one could still vaguely make out a blooming cherry blossom.

"Xianuo," he extended his hand for a gentle shake, a greeting of sorts. "Shall we talk somewhere else?"

Inside a commoner's pub southwest of the city.

"Two cups of Binks' Brew, please."

"Four thousand Beli."

Slap! Xianuo pulled out two large bills from his person, slapped them generously on the counter, took his drinks, and headed to a corner seat.

He still had the fifty thousand Beli Bellemere had given him untouched. Originally, food and lodging on the Gatt would have consumed more than half of it, but because of that incident with the King of the Near Sea, he hadn't spent a single cent.

So, his finances were still quite comfortable.

"N-no, that's not right, I'm only fifteen," Sakuraba Junichi said somewhat hesitantly. He had never been to a pub before. "Isn't it inappropriate for someone underage..."

"It's fine, it's not strong," Xianuo said casually, his attention fully focused on the wine glass in his hand. This was his first time seeing this renowned drink.

Binks' Brew was more than just a song; the drink itself was also very famous in the East Blue.

Rum, white wine, and orange juice mixed in fixed proportions created a refreshing taste that was quite popular and widely appealing.

Its alcohol content was only around ten percent, making it difficult to get drunk.

"Really?"

Sakuraba Junichi awkwardly cupped the wine glass with both hands, watching the liquid slosh inside the glass. Suddenly, his throat felt dry, and he couldn't resist. He tilted his head back and took a large gulp.

Just then, Xianuo's leisurely voice rang out:

"By the way, I'm thirteen. A bit younger than you."

Pfft--

The alcohol he hadn't even tasted yet sprayed out. Junichi didn't care about the wasted drink and simply looked up at Xianuo across the round table, his eyes wide.

He's thirteen?

"Why so surprised?"

Xianuo sipped his own drink, a mouthful of icy, sweet brew sliding down his throat. He narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.

What a sin, all thanks to those sailors who egged me on and made me drink that night, leading me astray. Otherwise, I'd still be a good kid who never touched alcohol.

"Let's talk about your situation."

He put down his glass and looked at Junichi, who was still in a state of shock. "Let me guess... the dojo your family runs is probably in decline?"

He didn't even need to guess.

That tattered kendo uniform couldn't possibly belong to a rich young master out playing dress-up.

"Yes, it's shameful to say,"

Junichi lowered his head and mumbled, "My father was once the strongest swordsman on Asagiri Island. The Sakuraba Dojo he founded was also once the most prestigious dojo on the island."

"But... ever since my father passed away five years ago, the dojo has been jointly suppressed by other dojos on the island. My senior disciples left one after another, and eventually, even the dojo's land was seized by creditors. If it weren't for Teacher Koshiro taking me in, I might have starved to death at sea long ago."