"No specific identity yet, no matching information at hand."
The tall and skinny swordsman wearing a White Fox mask shook his head. "However, there's a dock beggar who witnessed the person disembarking from a passing cargo ship two nights ago."
"Meeting up with the Sakuraba kid was probably just to fool the kid and obtain a place in the competition, purely coincidental."
"A blind, nameless nobody."
The middle-aged man in luxurious attire picked up a coffee cup, gently caressing the cup's edge. "Then let him enjoy the same treatment as the Sakuraba kid, add some more troublesome fellows in his group."
"Yes, boss."
...
The registration line was quite long.
While waiting, Shano looked around out of boredom. After a moment, he suddenly noticed a curved wall on the north side of the square.
The wall displayed the emblems of the Seven Great Dojo arranged in a row, but in the center, there was a large incongruous blank space.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed to have been repainted.
"There used to be the Sakuraba emblem there, right?"
"Yes," Junichi nodded gloomily. "Actually, two emblems were erased, one was our Sakuraba Dojo's emblem, and the other was the Kendo Guild's."
"Kendo Guild? Was it also founded by your father?"
"Not entirely. To be precise, it was with the owners of several other dojos. My father played a leading role. Later, he was also elected by vote to serve as the guild president."
Shano clicked his tongue. "It sounds like your father was very prestigious. I thought the Sakuraba Dojo faced so much suppression because he had angered a lot of people after his death."
"Maybe they thought I wasn't worthy of succeeding the position," Junichi gave a wry smile.
"Ha, here we go again. I've told you, don't consume yourself with internal struggles, remember that, boy!… By the way, you mentioned before that your father died in an accident five years ago?"
"Yes, it was a shipwreck accident."
Junichi nodded slightly, his face showing memories. "It happened a few days before the Sword Dao Tournament. A storm hit the northern sea area of the island, and the guild received a distress signal stating two ships carrying swordsmen for the competition capsized."
"My father was at the guild that day. After receiving the Radio Snail, he immediately rushed over with others to rescue them. Several seniors from Sakuraba Dojo went along, but... none of them returned in the end."
Shano fell silent for a moment.
"Your father was a good man," he sighed. "Unfortunately, in this vast ocean, being a good person doesn't always guarantee a good outcome."
"..." Junichi didn't know what to say. After a pause, he softly said, "Thank you."
Shano patted him on the back.
"Oh, by the way, there's something else quite strange."
Junichi remembered something else, looking at the row of dojo emblems.
"When the guild was still around, there was a place for everyone to discuss and negotiate. Adults often argued, and the disciples met on the street would often challenge each other for rankings."
"Ironically, after the guild disappeared, the Seven Great Dojo gradually became united, almost like family. For instance, the new rule requiring a fee to enter the competition was quickly settled and enforced once rumors spread, with no disputes or opposition heard."
The more he thought about it, the more puzzled he became, frustratingly patting his head. "Ah~, I feel like my brain cells are burning out. It's all very strange, totally inexplicable..."
Like family?
Shano fell into thought, suddenly alert as if sensing something, swiftly turning around to gaze sharply at the nearby café.
It was crowded at the first-floor entrance, but the second-floor balcony was empty.
His keen eyes scrutinized the area up and down, finally settling on a spot—a round table near the balcony railing with two cups of coffee still steaming slightly.
"What's the matter?" Junichi asked curiously.
"Nothing."
Shano shook his head slightly, withdrawing his gaze.
He glanced at the significantly shortened registration queue in front, smiling:
"Let's not talk about it. We're almost up for the draw. Hopefully, we won't meet each other too soon. How about both of us making it to the finals and claiming the top two spots?"
"Alright! Let's give it our all!"
Junichi clenched his fist and waved it. "Also, don't show that confident champion's face too soon. If we face off in the finals, you better watch out; I won't be defeated as embarrassingly as before!"
...
The drawing results quickly came out.
Shano entered Group B, while Junichi was in Group C.
According to the selection rules, they each had to compete in five rounds with swordsmen from Group A and Group D, with only those with full victories advancing to the top eight first.
"Ha, we don't have to meet at all during the selection."
Feeling increasingly cheerful, Junichi whistled while holding the draw sheet.
"Then, Shano sir, I'll head to Group C now. See you at noon?"
"Yes, go ahead. I'll finish my matches quickly and come find you."
After watching Junichi leave, Shano glanced at the café again before proceeding to his designated competition area.
At this point, most of the platforms scattered across the square were occupied, with progress varying.
Some had just started their matches, while others had finished and stepped down to rest.
With so many swordsmen participating in the selection, this was the most efficient approach.
"Selection area A and B, the seventh match! Contestant number 120, Shano, vs. contestant number 28, Sika!"
The wooden platform in the corner was quickly surrounded by a crowd of spectators. As the announcer's voice faded, both contestants took their positions at opposite ends of the platform.
Sika was a bald giant, muscular and about 2.3 meters tall.
The Bamboo Sword in his hand was noticeably larger, drawing attention with its thickness and length.
"Can you really choose different styles when buying a Bamboo Sword?"
Shano was somewhat surprised.
"You didn't know? Ha, you're an idiot!"
The bald-headed Sika laughed heartily, "I don't know where this fledgling came from, but you're unlucky to run into your Uncle Sika in the first round."
"But don't worry, I won't let you suffer for long. Your Uncle Sika is kind-hearted and will end your pain swiftly!"
"Remember the rules, both of you! During the attack, only Bamboo Swords are allowed; no direct hand or foot contact with the opponent is permitted. Anyone knocked off the platform loses, and the opponent advances to the next round! Understood?"
Both sides nodded.
"Alright, then I announce!" The referee raised his hand abruptly, "The match officially begins!"
As soon as the words fell.
Bang!
A deep, resounding thud.
With a scream, the towering figure of more than two meters was sent flying, crashing heavily a few meters away on the ground.
"What a coincidence, I'm a kind person too."
A calm voice came from the platform.
The surrounding audience fell silent, the referee's gaze was dazed, his hand still frozen in mid-air, not yet swooped down.
Shano returned the Bamboo Sword to his waist, turning to the referee, now resembling a statue, with a polite smile:
"I'm sorry, I'm in a hurry. Could we start the next match immediately?"