Chapter 21

"Brother! Don't be in such a hurry to leave. Have you considered switching to a different place to make a living? You handle a sword quite well; even that woman Chen Huan was taken down by you. You're a real master!"

A thick scent of perfume wafted over the moment the man approached.

He was slightly taller than Lin Sheng and quite burly. His voice was deep and booming, though his authentic Celine accent gave it a strange, jarring quality.

The Celine people were primarily of the yellow race, but the yellow-skinned people here were generally much fairer—significantly whiter—than those Lin Sheng had known in his previous life.

Furthermore, the distinction between black and white people here was not as sharply divided as it had been on Earth.

White people were only slightly paler than the yellow-skinned population.

In this port city of Huaisha.

Foreigners of white descent were not uncommon; most hailed from the Lienlie Nations across the sea, which was the most developed region in the world.

Lin Sheng turned around and carefully sized up the man who had called out to him.

The man was white with dark yellow hair, a gold ring pierced through his nose, and a green tiger tattooed on his bare upper body. He wore loose, grey breeches on his legs.

"Hello, I'm Russell, the manager of the Steel Scale Club. I saw that match just now—you fought beautifully!"

"Russell?" Lin Sheng paused. That was a good name. "I'm Lin Sheng. You said you're the manager of the Steel Scale Club?"

"Don't talk here, come with me!" Russell grabbed Lin Sheng and ran.

The two walked quickly, turned a street corner, and arrived at another swordsmanship club.

This was one of the other two clubs Lin Sheng had scouted earlier; both were places with very high membership fees.

The exterior of the club was decorated like a luxury hotel, resplendent and magnificent, with two black lion statues flanking the entrance.

Everything inside was circular: the large round lamps, the round lobby, the round pillars, and the round counter.

There was even a young receptionist with a round face.

Russell pulled Lin Sheng straight to the second floor.

Once upstairs, the two quickly entered a spacious and gorgeously decorated swordsmanship sparring room.

Two swordsmen wearing protective armor and helmets were sparring with each other.

"Madilan! Xiayin, come here, come here! I've brought back a master!" Russell shouted as soon as he entered.

"This guy just made that long-legged woman from Tengchong cry ten minutes ago!" Russell quickly exaggerated the facts to maximize the promotional effect.

"What?"

Hearing this, both swordsmen stopped their movements and turned to look.

One of them was a young black man, and the other appeared to be a mixed-race girl.

Russell pointed at the black man. "Madilan, the club's chief steward."

Then he pointed at the mixed-race girl. "Xiayin, the club's chief equipment specialist. Oh, right, she's half-Celine and half-Aio."

Finally, he pointed at Lin Sheng.

"A master, the Lin Sheng who made Chen Huan cry!"

Lin Sheng was speechless and scanned the room.

The entire room was no different from a dance studio. The floor was covered with thick, high-end soft mats that didn't look like mats at all, but rather expensive black marble with patterns.

On the left was a large floor-to-ceiling mirror, convenient for swordsmen to correct their own form.

In the corners of the room were built-in shelves displaying sets of metal armor and helmets that looked incredibly expensive.

On the weapon racks hung various blades of different lengths.

"How about it? The conditions here are much better than next door!" Russell chuckled twice. "We have everything here except for a master. Any interest in joining us?"

Lin Sheng looked at him, bewildered.

"What do you mean?"

"One thousand a month. You come to instruct at least five times—that's two hundred per session, no problem, right? Even Chen Huan can't get that kind of pay," Russell offered.

The black man, Madilan, also walked over with a smile, revealing a mouthful of snow-white teeth.

"Hello, friend. This club is a small organization the three of us pooled our money to start. The goal is to exchange Naxi Swordsmanship and other ancient martial arts."

"He's very strong, Madilan! He could take on the three of us without a problem!" Russell exclaimed in an extremely exaggerated tone.

"Are you guys serious? I'm just a beginner." Lin Sheng was surprised for a moment, then calmed down.

"A beginner? That doesn't matter. A beginner who can make Chen Huan cry is someone we need to snap up even more!" Madilan said with a grin.

The woman, Xiayin, also took off her helmet and approached. She didn't speak, merely observing Lin Sheng.

"If I join, what work would I have to do?" Lin Sheng asked again.

"Five times a month, two hundred per session for instruction fees. Just come over and explain Naxi Swordsmanship to us," Russell explained. "Unlike Tengchong, we aren't open to the public. We only accept specific members."

"To put it bluntly, only the three of us need the instruction," Madilan added.

"Then what about your previous instructors?" Lin Sheng asked, confused.

This place was gorgeously decorated and the pay was high; someone should have been hired long ago. Why hadn't he seen anyone?

"We were driven out by Tengchong next door." Russell's expression darkened at the mere mention of it.

"Alright, enough about that, let's spar!" He hurriedly pulled Lin Sheng along to put on protective gear and helmets.

Two minutes later.

The three of them stood opposite Lin Sheng, panting like oxen.

All three were fully armed, holding cross-swords in their hands. However, their postures were all somewhat unnatural.

Russell and Madilan clutched their chests, gasping for air, while Xiayin pressed down on her right thigh, unable to move.

"Impressive!" This was the first thing Xiayin said.

"Come on, stay! We'll pay you fifteen hundred!" Madilan slapped his thigh and shouted.

Lin Sheng met three pairs of eager, longing eyes, feeling momentarily bewildered.

Returning home that evening, Lin Sheng was still in a daze.

He had been inexplicably kicked out of the Tengchong Club, only to be inexplicably pulled into the Steel Scale Club.

A club that had a grand total of three official members.

It felt like a dream, possessing a profound sense of unreality.

Sitting at the dinner table, his father, Lin Zhounian, picked up his rice bowl and glanced up at Lin Sheng, who was sitting across from him.

"How's your state lately? Your grades haven't slipped, have they?" He picked up a portion of dried tofu with stir-fried meat and placed it into his bowl, not eating yet, waiting for Lin Sheng's reply.

"It's fine, same as usual." Lin Sheng snapped out of his thoughts and answered.

"Your grandfather's condition has stabilized, but we still have to take turns looking after him. You'll have to rely on yourself for now. We can't spare the time to look after you for a while." Lin Zhounian sighed.

"I understand." Lin Sheng nodded.

"Just when I was coming upstairs, I heard Auntie Zhang from downstairs say that the price of beef has gone up sharply lately..."

His mother, Gu Wanqiu, began chatting about the daily trifles of oil, salt, sauce, and vinegar—where there were sales, what minor changes had occurred—she could find out everything from the neighbors.

Even though she had to go to work at the kindergarten every day and didn't have much time when she got back.

Lin Zhounian chimed in from time to time to discuss it with her.

Lin Sheng sat to the side, listening in silence.

After finishing his meal, he took the initiative to wash the dishes, cleaned up, and quickly washed up before returning to his bedroom.

He could hardly wait to enter the dreamscape again and explore what secrets lay within that mysterious Black Feather City.

Having killed the Rotten Swordsman earlier and obtained his fragmented memories, Lin Sheng was filled with anticipation.