The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 245

Jiang Fei agreed to Liu Yunduo’s challenge and accepted her formal invitation to duel. However, it was obviously impossible for them to draw their swords right then and there outside the restaurant and engage in a fierce three-hundred-round battle.

Doing so would undoubtedly attract onlookers, who would report them for armed street brawling, and the police would surely get involved.

Instead, the two agreed to face off three days later at the Central Martial Arts Academy.

The Central Martial Arts Academy was the most concentrated gathering place for all “martial artists” in the capital, making it the ideal location to avoid unnecessary trouble.

Watching as the spoiled young master Su Mengnan and Liu Yunduo walked away, Jiang Fei shook his head helplessly.

Truthfully, he had no desire to involve himself in such a thankless, unrewarding mess. Even if Liu Yunduo had tried both soft and hard tactics—even threatening to follow him relentlessly until he agreed to the duel—he could have simply laughed it off and let her stalk him all she wanted.

After all, his business in the capital was nearly finished, and he was preparing to leave for Jincheng. If she had the nerve, she could try following him there!

The reason Jiang Fei ultimately changed his mind and accepted her challenge was simple: one month from now, Liu Yunduo would face off against Miyamoto Kazuma, the greatest master of the two-sword style. Jiang Fei wanted to help her.

If a duel with him could elevate her swordsmanship, allowing her to gain new insights and breakthroughs, thus increasing her chances of victory in the upcoming battle, then it was all for the best.

Unlike Liu Yunduo, Jiang Fei didn’t share her grand ambition of defeating all of Japanese swordsmanship in her lifetime. But if someone could achieve that—representing Chinese swordsmanship by overpowering Japanese kenjutsu—he would wholeheartedly support it.

Now that he had become the chairman of the Chinese Medicine Association, his duty was to promote and revitalize traditional Chinese medicine—a natural responsibility, given his profession as a doctor. In the future, he would still rely on Chinese medicine to make a living, so this was simply his obligation. As for matters like the Swordsmanship Alliance, he’d leave that to Liu Yunduo. He was content to lend a hand where he could.

…..

As Su Mengnan’s Ferrari drove off, the young talents of the Chinese Medicine Association inside the restaurant had finished their meals and rested, filing out one after another to resume the afternoon’s free clinic.

Cui Xiuping, usually quite reserved, walked up to Jiang Fei and, for once, teased him: “Jiang Fei, who was that woman earlier? You two talked for so long, and you seemed pretty close. Should I be reporting this to Bai Ruoxi?”

Lost in thought, Jiang Fei shot the robed man a glance but couldn’t be bothered to respond.

Undeterred, Cui Xiuping continued, “I don’t know the woman, but the man—wasn’t that Su Mengnan, the son of the chairman of ‘Green City International’?”

Jiang Fei raised an eyebrow with mild interest. “You know him?”

Cui Xiuping nodded. “Of course. He’s one of the capital’s most notorious playboys—arrogant and domineering. Some even call him one of the ‘Three Young Masters of Beijing.’ His biggest passions are sports cars and martial arts.”

“But despite his bad reputation, he’s actually quite a character. For example, he loves supercars but refused to join Beijing’s SCC (Super Car Club), instead forming his own elite car club with his friends. His obsession with martial arts—especially swordsmanship—led him to spend three years hiring masters from all over the country to train him. He even sought out reclusive experts himself. Rumor has it he’s become quite skilled, unbeatable among the capital’s rich and reckless. Now he’s even started some kind of Swordsmanship Alliance in Shanghai.”

Jiang Fei chuckled. “Sounds like quite the personality.”

“Exactly. But how did you get involved with him?” Cui Xiuping asked curiously.

Jiang Fei had spent most of his time in Jincheng and rarely visited Beijing, making it unlikely for their paths to cross.

Jiang Fei shrugged. “Yesterday, when I went to pick someone up at the airport, he not only stole my parking spot but also mouthed off. So I smashed his Maserati.”

“What?!” Cui Xiuping’s eyes widened in shock.

Destroying Su Mengnan’s beloved car was no small matter. “So today, he came looking for trouble? Should I find someone to mediate?”

Jiang Fei waved him off with a smile. “No need. It’s already settled. I’ve got him wrapped around my finger. He didn’t come for compensation—he had other business. Don’t worry about it.”

Cui Xiuping was even more astonished.

Resolving a conflict with Su Mengnan so easily after smashing his car? That wasn’t something just anyone could pull off. Even Cui Xiuping himself would have needed significant effort to manage it.

But knowing Jiang Fei’s straightforward nature—proud but not one to boast—he had no reason to doubt him. If Jiang Fei said it was settled, it was settled.

“You’re sure?” Cui Xiuping pressed.

Jiang Fei nodded, and the two headed off to continue the free clinic.

Japan – The Foot of Mount Fuji

Far away in Japan, on the southern slopes of Mount Fuji, lay some of the country’s most breathtaking scenery, rivaling even that of Hokkaido.

A vast highland stretched out, lush with greenery, serving as a grazing pasture for cattle and sheep. To the southwest stood the famous Shiraito and Otodome waterfalls. Away from the crowded tourist spots, many wealthy individuals had built private villas here—including the renowned Miyamoto family, a prominent name in Japanese swordsmanship.

In truth, what Japan called “kendō” (swordsmanship) wasn’t actually about swords at all—it was about the katana, a single-edged blade. By Chinese standards, it should be called “the way of the blade” instead.

But Japan was a peculiar country. Over time, as their weapons evolved, they continued to refer to their art as “swordsmanship,” even though the katana was clearly a blade.

Unlike in China, where double-edged weapons were called swords (剑) and single-edged ones were called blades (刀), Japan made no such distinction—both were considered “swords.” Only short knives were referred to as blades.

Japan predominantly practiced the one-sword style (itto-ryu), considered the orthodox form of kendō. Yet the Miyamoto family was the sole exception, maintaining a strong presence with their two-sword style (nito-ryu), even growing in influence.

The credit for this largely belonged to the current head of the Miyamoto family—Miyamoto Kazuma.

Kazuma was arguably the most skilled swordsman the family had produced since its founder, Miyamoto Musashi. He began training as a child and, by fourteen, had mastered the basics of nito-ryu, becoming the strongest swordsman in the family under twenty-five.

Five years later, at nineteen, his skills had reached an advanced level, surpassing not only his peers but every member of the Miyamoto family. He had become Japan’s foremost practitioner of the two-sword style.

Six years after that, at twenty-five, his mastery reached its peak. No one in the Miyamoto family could last more than three moves against him.

Believing he had reached the limits of his art, Kazuma left his family to travel across Japan, challenging every renowned swordsman he could find—whether they practiced itto-ryu or nito-ryu.

Seventeen duels. Seventeen victories.

Not a single defeat.

His reputation soared, with many declaring him the greatest swordsman of modern Japan. Some even began questioning whether the one-sword style was truly superior.

That was, until his secret duel with the legendary iaijutsu master, Yagyū Munenori. For the first time, Kazuma tasted defeat. His myth was shattered, and the debates quieted. The world was reminded that the two-sword style could not truly overpower the one-sword style.

After this crushing loss, Kazuma ceased his relentless challenges and returned to his family, disappearing into seclusion for over a decade. It wasn’t until four years ago that he reemerged to assume leadership of the Miyamoto clan.

…..

It was already August, and even the latest-blooming cherry blossoms at the foot of Mount Fuji had long since fallen.

Beneath the moonlight, a man was furiously practicing his swordsmanship in the courtyard.

Dressed in a kimono, the man appeared to be in his mid-twenties. His otherwise handsome face was marred by a fresh, vicious scar.

His eyes were cold—so cold they sent chills down the spine. He seemed less like a human and more like an unfeeling machine, relentlessly executing strikes, thrusts, parries, and slashes with both blades.

Inside the dojo, a middle-aged man sat cross-legged, eyes closed.

Any swordsmanship expert would recognize him immediately—Miyamoto Kazuma, the man who had once shaken Japan’s kendō world fourteen years ago.

A graceful young woman, having watched the training outside for some time, turned and approached Kazuma with concern.

“Master, if Senior Brother keeps training like this day and night… won’t he lose himself?”

Kazuma slowly opened his eyes, his expression calm—even pleased.

“Do not worry. There is an old Chinese saying: ‘A loss may turn out to be a gain.’ This defeat may yet prove beneficial for Endo. Your Senior Brother’s talent in swordsmanship is not far from my own. His only flaw has been his temperament—he has always walked too smooth a path. This defeat will temper his arrogance and allow him to focus deeply on his training. That is precisely what I wanted.”