Rebound?
'It should be called "indestructible," shouldn't it!'
Yagyū Sōichirō couldn't help but inwardly complain as he looked at the tall young man in the distance who seemed completely unharmed.
One must know that even a Jonin should have been smashed under the full-force strike he just delivered.
"How was that?" Isshin grinned, his smile full of the unconcealed sharpness and swagger unique to youth. "Did I pass, president?"
The scene immediately fell into a subtle silence. Everyone's gaze shifted back and forth between Isshin, who stood tall and proud in the arena, and Yagyū Sōichirō, who was barely standing.
Shock, confusion, awe, complexity... all sorts of emotions permeated the broken dojo.
Yagyū Sōichirō was silent for a few breaths, finally taking a deep breath, suppressing the churning blood and the numbness in his arms, and slowly standing up.
"Hmph." He snorted, "Since this old man made a promise beforehand, I naturally won't go back on my word."
His gaze swept across the entire venue, finally landing on Isshin, and he said solemnly, "From this moment forth, you are an officially recognized master of the Red Armor City Swordsmanship Association, qualified to open a dojo in Red Armor City and teach your Ashina Style."
"Master Isshin."
"Haha!" Isshin laughed heartily, cupping his fist in a casual salute. "Then I thank the president!"
He immediately turned to the dojo masters around him, whose expressions were complex, and laughed heartily, "Thank you also to all the masters for your guidance and witnessing just now. Since we will be in the same city from now on, I hope for your continued support."
Hearing this, the dojo masters' facial muscles twitched as they forced out stiff smiles, cupping their fists in return salutes, uttering polite phrases like "Congratulations, Master Isshin," "Young and promising," and "Let's exchange more ideas in the future."
After the pleasantries, Isshin seemed to suddenly remember something. He turned back to Yagyū Sōichirō, blinked, and asked, "President, since I can now open a dojo, according to our rules here, is there any decent ceremony? Like announcing it to the whole city, hosting a banquet, letting everyone get acquainted, and so on?"
Hearing this, Yagyū Sōichirō frowned and snorted irritably, "A ceremony? Do you think this is a festival or a wedding? We don't have those flashy things! Do you seriously want drums beaten so that all of Red Armor City knows you've arrived?"
"Aha, president, you hit the nail on the head!" Far from being annoyed, Isshin's eyes lit up, and he smiled even more brightly, stating frankly, "To be honest, I love fame! Why practice the sword? Besides the way of life, isn't it just to make a name for oneself and let more people know the name of my Ashina Style! The livelier, the better, naturally!"
"You..." Yagyū Sōichirō was choked by his undisguised utilitarian frankness and was about to say something more.
Just then, a man in simple samurai attire, who looked like a guard and had been standing quietly nearby, quickly stepped forward and respectfully whispered a few words into Yagyū Sōichirō's ear.
After the guard stepped back, Yagyū Sōichirō looked at Isshin again and coldly snorted, "You want a highly publicized ceremony?"
"Yes!"
"Then follow me!"
---
Inside the Red Armor City Lord's Mansion.
Yagyū Sōichirō explained the situation concisely. Only after Yagyū finished speaking did Takeda Nobutsuna slowly open his mouth.
He did not ask for details, nor was he interested in pleasantries. The conditions he proposed were direct and pragmatic:
The city lord's mansion could make an exception and hold an acceptance ceremony for this newly promoted master of the "Ashina Style," one grand enough to spread throughout the city, thus fulfilling his wish for fame.
Not only that, but afterward, he could also instruct people to widely publicize this matter throughout the southeastern region of the Land of Iron.
But the condition was that Isshin must represent Red Armor City in the next Land of Iron National Swordsmanship Competition.
The significance and weight of this competition for the samurai of the Land of Iron were comparable to the Jonin selection within the five great ninja villages.
It was not only the ultimate arena for skill but also a ladder to fame and power.
Those who excel will be granted the nationally recognized title of "sword saint," and may even receive a direct military promotion, obtaining the rank of general, stepping straight into the national power structure.
Isshin agreed without any hesitation upon hearing this; this so-called condition was exactly what he wanted!
His fundamental purpose for coming to the Land of Iron was to generate fame through battle, through fame quickly acquire enough recognition to promote the professional class [Swordsman] to the higher-tier [Sword Master] and even [Sword Saint].
The National Swordsmanship Competition was precisely the most ideal and broadest stage.
Takeda Nobutsuna's proposal was tantamount to pushing him onto this fast track, complete with a grand starting ceremony and preliminary publicity.
---
A few days later, a fresh topic of discussion spread rapidly through the streets and alleys of Red Armor City, like a drop of ink diffusing in water.
"Did you hear? An incredible young swordsman arrived in our Red Armor City and became an officially recognized master of the association!"
"More than just heard! The commotion at the Jaishin Style dojo in the South City that day could be heard half a street away—it sounded like they were tearing down a building!"
"They say President Yagyū personally tested his measure, and the result... tsk tsk, half the dojo collapsed."
"Is that true? How powerful must he be? I heard he's very young!"
"The city lord's mansion and the swordsmanship association jointly issued a notice. In three days, they will hold the official acceptance ceremony for him in the central plaza. That's a grand event we haven't seen in years!"
Curiosity, doubt, anticipation, awe... various emotions mixed in the idle chatter after meals.
A foreign, young sword master who burst onto the scene with such a forceful attitude was inherently newsworthy.
Three days later, the central plaza was packed with people.
On the high platform, Major General Takeda Nobutsuna and President Yagyū Sōichirō stood side by side, both in formal attire with solemn expressions.
Below, the reputable samurai of Red Armor City, the masters of various dojos, and many citizens who came to witness the event surrounded the plaza, making it impossible to pass.
The ceremony was concise yet solemn. Under the gaze of the crowd, Takeda Nobutsuna personally announced the recognition of "Ashina Style Isshin." Yagyū Sōichirō, representing the swordsmanship association, presented the plaque and documents symbolizing the qualification to officially open a dojo.
There were no lengthy speeches, but the presence of the two Red Armor City magnates simultaneously carried more weight than a thousand words.
Under the sunlight, Isshin, dressed in a simple swordsman's uniform, accepted the tokens. His figure, standing tall, was deeply imprinted in the eyes of countless onlookers.
His name, along with the unfamiliar style "Ashina Style," was formally etched into the consciousness of Red Armor City at this moment.
---
However, after the commotion brought by the ceremony, this newly promoted young master did not rush to open a dojo and widely accept disciples, converting his fame into tangible influence and profit, as everyone had expected.
Instead, his behavior was somewhat baffling.
He didn't have a fixed dojo; he merely rented a secluded courtyard at random.
Every morning or afternoon, people could see him holding a common katana, like a male lion patrolling its territory.
He walked unhurriedly through the streets and alleys of Red Armor City, from the bustling main roads to the quiet residential areas. His footsteps seemed to cover the entire city.
Occasionally, when he reached an open space, a market entrance, or a bridgehead, and saw a crowd gathering, he would suddenly stop.
Regardless of whether the gazes directed at him were curious, scrutinizing, or awestruck, he would simply find an empty spot and then practice with single-minded focus.
He practiced so openly and so absorbedly, as if the surrounding crowd, the whispers, and even the entire Red Armor City were merely part of the background to his sword practice.
After finishing his practice and sheathing his katana, his breathing calm, he would once again wander off like a male lion patrolling its territory, leaving behind a trail of speculation and discussion.
What exactly did this young Master Isshin want to do?
Was it merely to use this peculiar method to make more people remember his face and his sword?
Or was he using this city as a whetstone, silently honing something?
No one knew the answer, and time quietly slipped away amidst this seemingly casual routine.