The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 261

The Kendo Alliance’s headquarters wasn’t located in some martial arts hall or an office building—it was in the Shadao Villa District, right in the heart of Huacheng.

Of course, the headquarters wasn’t just any villa. Instead, in an open space within the villa area, they had built a traditional Siheyuan courtyard—one that carried the distinct architectural style of the capital. It was elegant, classical, and full of charm.

Before Liu Yunduo took over as the alliance’s leader, the Kendo Alliance had been a laughingstock in the martial arts world, with no real masters to speak of. Calling them a motley crew would have been generous.

But while these people had no real martial arts skills, they certainly had money—lots of it.

Take someone like Su Mengnan, for example—a spoiled rich kid who, as the saying goes, was “so poor, all he had was money.” Aside from wealth, he had nothing else.

So when these people pooled their resources, they ignored the cost and built this imitation ancient courtyard, all for the sake of making the Kendo Alliance’s name sound more impressive.

Though not as large as the Central Martial Arts Hall in the capital, this Siheyuan still covered nearly 2,000 square meters, with a spacious courtyard where the alliance usually held its competitions.

Naturally, this was also where Liu Yunduo and Miyamoto Ichizen’s duel would take place.

As the sun rose, casting golden rays across the sky, the courtyard’s front gate—adorned with a plaque bearing the words “Kendo Alliance” in traditional calligraphy—stood spotless.

“Master, we’re here,” said Yamamoto Wakamizu.

Miyamoto Ichizen glanced up at the plaque, where the bold, sweeping strokes of the characters seemed to carry the essence of swordsmanship.

“Chinese characters are truly remarkable,” he mused. “Especially traditional script—they hold far more depth than our own writing. These characters must have been penned by a true swordmaster.” He paused at the gate, studying the plaque.

A true Japanese swordsman, especially one with integrity, would never belittle China just to elevate themselves.

Or rather, they might look down on modern China, but they would always respect its history. After all, Japan’s culture—including its martial arts and swordsmanship—had been profoundly influenced by China. Much of what they knew had been passed down from there.

In this regard, Japan was far better than certain other neighboring countries.

“Pity their ancestors were great, but their descendants grow weaker with each generation,” Yamamoto Wakamizu said coldly, her voice laced with pride.

Miyamoto Ichizen smiled but didn’t refute her this time.

In his view, while modern China still had its hidden masters and determined warriors, it was undeniable that they were no longer the celestial empire of old. To say they had declined over generations wasn’t entirely wrong.

Miyamoto held a reverence for China’s martial artists—that was the mark of a true warrior. But in terms of attitude, he didn’t believe this “sword-sharpening journey” would produce anyone capable of defeating him.

His real opponent was Yagyū Munenori, and no one else.

“Let’s go.” Miyamoto pushed open the gate and strode inside, Yamamoto following closely behind.

Creak—

The sound of the gate was soft, yet it echoed like thunder in the courtyard. Several young men in black training uniforms, practicing their sword forms, immediately turned their heads toward the entrance.

“They’re early!” Su Mengnan muttered under his breath. “Damn it, is this guy in a hurry to die?”

His mouth had always been as sharp as his sword, and he’d offended countless people with it. Since he had zero respect for Miyamoto, he saw no reason to hold back.

“Hey, who are you looking for? What do you want?” Though he already knew the answer, Su Mengnan lazily played dumb as he sauntered over.

“Miyamoto Ichizen. I’ve come to duel Alliance Leader Liu Yunduo,” Miyamoto replied calmly—in fluent Mandarin.

“Oh, so you’re the guy whose disciple got his face slashed by our leader, and now you’re here for revenge?” Su Mengnan twirled his sword playfully, smirking. “The great Miyamoto family head, huh?”

He had always been a cocky rich kid, treating everyone with the same mocking irreverence. His words were designed to provoke, to make people seethe with anger.

But Su Mengnan was no fool. If he had been the one Miyamoto was challenging, he wouldn’t dare act like this.

Today, however, he wasn’t the one fighting. He had nothing to fear. If he could rattle Miyamoto’s composure before the duel, maybe it’d give Liu Yunduo an edge.

After all, a swordsman’s mental state was crucial in battle.

“You—!” Yamamoto Wakamizu’s hand flew to her sword hilt, but Miyamoto stopped her with a raised hand.

“Where is your alliance leader?” Miyamoto asked, unfazed. “She accepted my challenge. Does that mean she’s too afraid to face me now?”

“Shrimps and minnows?” The insult made the other young men scowl. Su Mengnan cursed inwardly at the old man’s cunning but kept his cool.

“Our leader defeated Fujino with a single strike—left a scar he’ll never forget. Why would she be scared of you?” he shot back. “From the start, her real target was Japan’s so-called ‘Two-Sword Style Master,’ Miyamoto Ichizen!”

“But if you really are Miyamoto, prove it. Show us a few moves—let’s see if you’re the real deal.” Su Mengnan grinned. “Right, guys?”

The others, equally shameless, chimed in: “Yeah! Anyone can claim to be Miyamoto. I could say I’m Yagyū Munenori—does that make it true?”

Birds of a feather flock together. These spoiled brats were all cut from the same cloth—none of them were pushovers.

Since they weren’t the ones fighting, hadn’t signed any life-or-death agreements, and weren’t even true martial artists, Miyamoto couldn’t just kill them—no matter how strong he was.

Their parents were powerful figures, after all.

Miyamoto frowned slightly but showed no anger.

Yamamoto, however, had no such patience. To her, her master was sacred—how dare these insignificant fools mock him?

“Master, allow me to teach them a lesson!” she demanded, gripping her sword.

Miyamoto had initially planned to ignore them, but if they were going to be this disrespectful, he’d have to clear the way to meet Liu Yunduo. He gave a slight nod.

Shing!

Yamamoto drew her twin swords in a flash, smirking at Su Mengnan. “Since you doubt my master’s skill, let me show you what real swordsmanship looks like. Who’s first?”

Su Mengnan blinked, then grinned.

He knew he stood no chance against Miyamoto or even Fujino. But this young woman? He could handle her.

After all, he had been the Kendo Alliance’s leader before—he wasn’t completely useless.

“Alright, little lady, let’s play. But don’t cry when I beat you,” he taunted.

“Here I come!” Su Mengnan lunged, his footwork swift, his sword thrust sharp—almost impressive.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Though neither was a true master, their exchange was fast and fierce, their techniques refined.

But within moments, Su Mengnan’s confidence shattered.

His sword was quick, but Yamamoto’s twin blades were a whirlwind of motion—crossing, slashing, overwhelming him. Within ten moves, he was completely on the defensive.

Then—

Clash!

Yamamoto’s blades slid down his sword, forcing his grip open.

“Let go!”

Su Mengnan’s fingers slipped, his sword flying from his hand as he stumbled back.

“Insult my master? Take this!” Yamamoto raised her blade, aiming for his thigh—

Whoosh!

A gust of wind seemed to sweep through the courtyard.

Before her strike could land, her sword was knocked from her grasp—just as Su Mengnan’s had been.

Shocked, she raised her second blade—

But Miyamoto moved like lightning, yanking her back by the shoulder.

“You’re no match for her.”

His eyes locked onto the figure now standing before them—Liu Yunduo, her long hair flowing, her embroidered shoes silent on the ground.

“Good,” Miyamoto said, a spark of excitement in his voice. “I didn’t expect you to reach this level. It seems I’ll have to take this duel seriously.”