It was only after the earth dragon incident that
Time really flew. Back then, he was only nineteen. Now he was twenty-four. Five years was enough time for Lorist to grow from a rookie who was always making a fool of himself and causing trouble into a seasoned old mercenary who had seen it all and kept his composure no matter what.
What was wrong with him tonight? Why did he keep dwelling on the past? Perhaps it was Wenna's graceful departure earlier and the inevitable breakup tonight that had stirred up so many emotions. After all, it had been four years of feelings. No matter how resolute his decision, the attachment in his heart was still hard to let go of. Maybe only with the slow passage of time would he gradually forget her. He hoped that when the sun rose tomorrow, it would be the start of something new.
"What are you here for? Want to watch the show?" Lorist touched his face — good, he hadn't been crying, otherwise El would have mocked him again.
"I heard from Jiro the fruit seller that you were back, so of course I had to come check on you. I was expecting some tearful farewell scene — the kind where old flames reignite, lovers pour out their hearts, and maybe end up in bed together. Who knew the man would be cold and the woman decisive, just calling it quits like that. What a disappointment." El was the same as ever, spouting utter nonsense.
"Ha, sorry to disappoint you," Lorist chuckled.
"No worries. Bro knows you don't have the talent for that bard stuff — it's understandable that you can't pull off a performance. By the way, what's with these duel notices posted everywhere these past two days? I was planning to go to the academy tomorrow to find
"Nothing major. Dean Levins, that old fossil, made a bet with all the other academies in the academy district — whether I can beat their Silver Instructors. Then the old fossil wanted to make some extra cash and raise the academy's reputation at the same time, so he had Fatty Shi send people everywhere to post the duel notices." Lorist gave a brief account of how Dean Levins had thrown him into the deep end.
El showed no sympathy for his old buddy's plight — in fact, he was rather gleeful: "Well then, this is a great opportunity to make money! Should we set up a betting pool? We could wager on how many matches you'll win. The cash would just roll in."
Lorist smiled bitterly. What kind of friends did he have? Not a single word of comfort — just thinking about how to cash in on this. He dumped a bucket of cold water on El's enthusiasm: "Don't even think about the academy district. That old fox Dean Levins has certainly made arrangements already. He's more thorough than you — no way he'd miss out on such a money-making opportunity. He's probably got the whole of
"Taverns work fine. Morant City has forty-eight districts, plus three newly established communities, and twenty-seven bosses. I just need one tavern in each district and community running a pool. If the local bosses are reasonable, I'll give them a ten percent cut. If they don't cooperate, I'll make them cooperate. Bro wants to branch out his brothers and give them their own territories — been looking for positions for them. As for that old fox Dean, no matter how much he schemes, he still has to follow the rules. I'll set the pool prizes nice and high — how can his official version compete with my underground one? We'll see whose pool draws more bettors." El grew more excited as he spoke, practically bursting to get started.
Lorist marveled to himself. Five years ago, El had been so carefree and roguish — despite being a gang boss, he couldn't be bothered with any of it, only caring about going on adventures and becoming a legendary mercenary. Now he was commanding and composed, with a sharp eye for timing, looking more and more like a true gang boss. It seemed he wasn't the only one who had changed over these five years — his friends had all undergone their own transformations to varying degrees.
"If you do that, you really could carve out a big piece of this pie. But have you even considered my feelings? I'm being forced into these duels. If I'm not in the right mood and my hand slips, the result could go either way."
"Oh come on — if you can't trust other people, surely you can trust your own brother? Bro, if you lost, that'd be the biggest joke in the world. My dark-attribute combat force is hard to cultivate — it's taken me these years to reach Silver Two-Star, nothing compared to Fatty, who's already at Silver Three-Star. Setting that aside, in all of Morant City, there aren't many Silver-ranked mercenaries or swordsmen worth our attention. But under your command, neither of us has ever won a single round. And that time we teamed up against you in a sword fight, we barely lasted a hundred moves. Brother, you losing to a Silver-ranker? I wouldn't believe it even if you beat me to death." El was even more confident about this than Lorist himself.
Lorist rolled his eyes.
"Alright, alright, brother. I won't let you work for nothing. How about this — I'll give you a ten percent cut of the pool. No? Fifteen percent then, still shaking your head? Twenty percent at most, can't go any higher. Bro's got expenses — gotta grease palms, and I've got a lot of mouths to feed," El said.
"Deal." Lorist lazily extended a hand. "Tomorrow, go find Fatty Shi yourself. Ask him for the duel schedule and information on the challengers. All of that can be used as bait to draw in bettors. And don't forget — Fatty Shi gets his cut too."
"Right. Oh, Lorist, I forgot — there were a couple of other things I came to talk to you about. Got so caught up in the betting pool that I forgot entirely. Ah, right — I found you a disciple." El furrowed his brow and thought for a long moment before remembering.
"What? You found me a disciple? You're joking, right?" Lorist was startled by El's words. Come on, did the man not realize how young he was? Taking on a student was practically a joke.
"Well..." El hesitated for a moment, scratching his head in frustration. "It's not exactly a master-student arrangement. Just let the kid follow you around, and when you have time, give him some pointers. Think of him as an extra attendant or servant — have him do all the heavy and dirty work. The kid's big and strong, so it won't be any trouble for him."
Lorist's interest was piqued. "Tell me more — what's the story?"
El said: "Alright, Lorist, you know how things are with our bunch. Here's what happened..."
Lorist had known for years how El had become a gang boss. Over twenty years ago, El's father and mother were both Gold Swordsmen — the leaders of a famous mercenary band. But twenty years ago, El's parents led their band into the Battle of White Deer Town. That battle cost the Krisen Empire its only Sword Saint, who fell on the battlefield, and the Forde Commercial Alliance paid an equally terrible price with devastating casualties. The mercenary band led by El's parents was nearly annihilated. El's mother died on the battlefield, and his father, severely wounded, lingered for several years before succumbing to his injuries. The band was left with only El's uncle, Garrilando — the sole remaining Gold Swordsman — and a handful of Silver-ranked mercenaries. Garrilando had also suffered a wound that severed the meridians in his thigh, leaving him permanently crippled and unable to ever advance beyond Gold Two-Star.
With only a handful of survivors, the mercenary band naturally couldn't continue and had to disband. Fortunately, before the battle, El's parents had considered the worst-case scenario and made thorough arrangements for the families of their brothers. The entire band's relatives lived in one district. Though the band was gone, the families who had lost loved ones looked after each other, and Morant City's generous compensation for the fallen mercenaries kept them from worrying about food and clothing.
Garrilando opened the Red Crow Tavern, also to make it easier to care for and educate the children left behind by his fallen brothers. He placed his hopes on these children, looking forward to the day they would grow up and raise the mercenary band's banner once more. Among these children, El was the undisputed leader — firstly because he was the oldest, secondly because he had the highest combat strength, and thirdly because he was good at looking after his younger siblings, having grown up with them trailing behind him since childhood.
As the children grew older and El was about to graduate from
The Forde Commercial Alliance's policy of entrusting district management to underground organizations was truly bizarre. While it gave most underground gang bosses a chance to go legitimate, reduced criminal incidents, and decreased conflicts between organizations, not all bosses played by the rules. The district where El and his friends lived had the misfortune of getting just such a boss.
Normally, the taxes and management fees he collected were already noticeably higher than in other districts, but this boss also came up with creative new charges — laundry fees, land occupation fees, road depreciation fees, and so on. The result was protests from the entire district, nearly triggering a riot. The area where El and the others lived had the tightest-knit community — not only did they refuse the boss's unreasonable levies, they even beat up the organization enforcers who came to collect, sending them straight to the infirmary. They were young, after all, and a bit impulsive — understandable.
But the boss saw it differently. He believed El's neighborhood was the model for the entire district, and that it was El's group leading the resistance that turned everyone against him. This made El and his friends thorns in his side that he wanted to eliminate as soon as possible. Then one of his underlings brought news that sent the boss into a rage: apparently, the people of the entire district were planning to file petitions and protests at the year-end district review council, forcing city hall to strip the organization of its management authority.
That was the last straw. The boss jumped to his feet. He'd spent so much in lobbying fees just to secure this district's management rights, and he hadn't even recouped his costs yet — how could he allow this? Gangsters aren't always the sharpest thinkers, and after much deliberation, the boss came up with an idea: kill the chicken to scare the monkey. As for which chicken — El and his friends were the natural choice.
But the boss's forces alone were no match for El's group, let alone with a Gold Swordsman backing them. Not willing to spend the money to hire outside help, the boss actually sent his men in the dead of night with buckets of oil to set fire to the residential area, planning to burn El and the others to death and write it off as an accident.
How terrible the plan was goes without saying, but what mattered was that the boss's men were spotted the moment they arrived at El's neighborhood. After a beating and some intimidation, the underling spilled everything. The entire district was thrown into an uproar. People surrounded the boss's residence so tightly that not even water could pass through. The boss couldn't escape — after El's group dragged him out, he was still defiant, but the furious residents swarmed in. Before El and the others could react, the boss was already done for.
With the boss gone, who would manage the district? Dozens of respected elders from across the districts got together, deliberated, and decided: El, you're up. And so El became the gang boss — living up to everyone's expectations.
The brothers — each one passionate and capable — handled everything smoothly and steadily, often without El needing to lift a finger. It wasn't until after the new year that El realized he was now responsible for two neighboring districts as well. Just like that, the future mercenary band that Garrilando had placed such high hopes on had become a district organization — and the most vibrant, most promising one in all of Morant City.
When the mercenary band disbanded years ago, a Silver Swordsman who was close to Garrilando had come from the Roman Empire and was preparing to return home after surviving the battlefield. At the farewell, Garrilando shared his plans with him, hoping that someday the brothers' children would raise the band's banner again. Three months ago, a little beggar from the Roman Empire came looking for Garrilando. The old man asked around and learned that this was the son of that Silver Swordsman — his old friend.
Only then did Garrilando learn that the Silver Swordsman had passed away the previous year. His old friend's hometown was a remote village, and after returning home, the Silver Swordsman became the village garrison captain. After two years, he married and had the child standing before the old man. A couple of years ago, a plague struck the village, and the beggar's parents could not escape it. His mother died first; the Silver Swordsman held on for another half year, and on his deathbed he instructed his child to seek out Garrilando and join the mercenary band.
The child walked all the way from the Roman Empire to Morant City — a journey that took him a full six months. In truth, taking a long-distance coach, the trip would have taken less than half a month. But the child didn't know that, so he walked the entire way on foot. When he ran out of money, he did odd jobs for food and slept outside inns or in haystacks. That he hadn't been snatched up by some unscrupulous slaver during those six months on the road was nothing short of remarkable. When he arrived in Morant City, he asked where the families of the old mercenary band members lived, and once he reached the district, he asked for Garrilando — only then was he brought before the old man.
Hearing about the little beggar's journey, the old man's eyes filled with tears. He not only gave the child fine food and good lodging, but also instructed El to treat him like his own younger brother. But when the child learned that El and the others hadn't reestablished the mercenary band and had instead become an underground organization, he started throwing a fit. He flatly refused to follow El's group. Well, maybe he could go to school then? He went — but tonight he was back, bringing with him an expulsion notice from the academy, because he had beaten every single classmate into the ground.
"This is already the third elementary academy! We were hoping he'd be ready to apply to Dawn Academy in a year. But now that looks impossible. The old man asked him what he wanted to learn. He said he wanted to learn the sword and become a great mercenary, adventuring all over the world. But the question isn't whether he wants to learn — it's whether he has the talent..."
El kept complaining: "The kid grew up in a mountain village, playing in the forests all day. His parents were too lenient with him, so he's become wild and incredibly stubborn. Sometimes his mind works on a single track — once he decides something, there's no turning back. Take swordsmanship — I reckon he'd be more threatening with a wooden stick than with a big iron sword in his hands. He's only sixteen, but his combat force is already at Bronze Two-Star. He's tall and broad, looks like he's in his twenties. His strength is enormous — he should be a great martial arts prospect. But you'd never guess — put a sword in his hand and he turns into a complete imbecile. Teach him a move, and within ten minutes he's forgotten everything he just learned. He swings the sword like a club, bashing away wildly — it's enough to make your blood boil."
"Now even the old man can't do anything with him, which is why I thought of you. If anyone can teach him swordsmanship, I think it'd be nobody but you," El said.
Lorist chuckled twice. "Old Gar is a Gold Swordsman, and even he can't teach the kid swordsmanship. What can I do at Iron rank?"
"You're different, Lorist. Your swordsmanship is far superior to my old fossil of an uncle's. Just do your brother this favor, will you? If after spending some time with you, you find he's not cut out for the sword, you can always send him back," El pleaded.
Lorist pondered for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. If he's not meant for the sword, I'll send him back to you."
Note: In Morant City, major academies like Dawn Academy weren't something you could simply sign up for — you had to pass entrance exams to confirm a certain level of basic knowledge before being admitted. That was why Morant City had so many one-year elementary academies, which functioned much like the test prep cram schools of Lorist's previous life, specifically designed to strengthen and solidify students' foundational knowledge so they could pass their entrance exams and get into the bigger academies.