Rise of the Demon Dragon

Chapter 7: Commotion at the Tavern

The old man simply sighed as the burly man, provoked by Zyren’s actions, approached them. He understood; he had been young once too.

“You need to take responsibility, Zyren. This time, I won’t help you. That man is no weakling. But at least, neither of you has any internal energy,” the old master said calmly.

“Don’t worry, master. I’m not afraid to face someone like him. I also want to see how far I’ve come since training with you,” Zyren replied casually, though his recklessness was clear in his voice.

“Hey, field rat! It looks like you want to challenge me?” the burly man barked, his voice rough as he closed in on Zyren and the old master.

“Yes, it seems like you’re looking for a fight. Let’s settle this outside!” Zyren challenged with a relaxed tone, though his inner anger was palpable.

The two young men, close in age, stepped out of the tavern. The old master let Zyren act as he pleased, his curiosity piqued by his student’s progress.

“Don’t regret it if I kill you today,” the tall, burly man warned, his voice dripping with menace.

“I’ve died several times before. So, it’s no problem if you manage to kill me,” Zyren retorted, his tone icy and defiant.

Annoyed by Zyren’s cold, daring attitude, the large man swung his massive arm towards his opponent without hesitation.

Zyren easily dodged the powerful punch. 

The burly man continued to unleash his techniques—learned from who knows where—but none of his attacks managed to touch Zyren. Frustration etched itself deeper into the man’s features.

“Is all you can do is dodge and run like a coward?” the burly man taunted, his companions cheering and mocking Zyren.

“I thought you were a skilled fighter. Your big body, which you’re so proud of, honestly makes you look like a buffalo. Strong, slow, and stupid!” Zyren shot back, his voice laced with mockery.

The man’s fury ignited, and he began to rampage. 

The old master yawned, finding the pointless fight tiresome. Two people without internal energy were truly dull to watch.

However, the old man’s attention sharpened when he sensed the arrival of someone new. A young man, dressed neatly and accompanied by two subordinates, entered the tavern. 

Though the old master didn’t recognize the newcomer, he could tell the man possessed mid-level martial arts skills.

The young man entered the tavern with an air of calm authority. Some of the burly man’s friends immediately rushed to greet him, showing respect, as did the subordinates of the young warrior who had just arrived.

Meanwhile, Zyren and his opponent were still locked in combat. Zyren landed a solid blow to the man’s jaw, sending the arrogant opponent crashing to the ground, where he stayed for a moment, dazed.

Several of the burly man’s friends couldn’t stand by idly. 

Emboldened by their leader’s presence, six of them advanced on Zyren, attacking him in turns. 

Their leader watched, unimpressed. 

Six against one was simply shameful.

Fighting six people proved far easier for Zyren than battling the now-unconscious big man. 

It didn’t take long for Zyren to take down each opponent, one by one. 

Fortunately for them, Zyren managed to restrain himself from killing anyone. Under his master’s guidance, he had learned to control his emotions better, avoiding the wild rage that once consumed him in battle.

Zyren didn’t realize that his actions were creating a bigger issue. The young warrior who had just entered the tavern now stepped outside to confront him.

“Have my subordinates bothered you, sir? They are rough and foolish, but I know they won’t attack unless challenged,” the young warrior said, his tone calm and measured. 

His elegant appearance indicated noble origins.

“Sorry, I did indirectly challenge them. There was a reason; that man spoke rudely and offended others. He approached me and proposed this way to resolve the issue. So, why not?” Zyren replied, his voice steady.

“Yes, I understand. But if I let you beat up my subordinates, I’d be seen as a leader who doesn’t care about his men, wouldn’t I? So, do you understand what I mean?” the young warrior asked, his tone slightly sharper.

“Yes, I understand, sir. Let’s fight,” Zyren said, his determination evident.

This time, the old master felt compelled to intervene. He couldn’t let things escalate further.

“Wait, sir. I apologize if my grandson has offended you. Can we settle this peacefully?” the old master asked, his voice calm but firm.

The young warrior assessed the old man, sensing that he was also a warrior, though he couldn’t gauge the old man’s abilities or the power he possessed. 

Tempted by the challenge, he considered testing his skills against the elder.

“If I let your grandson go, how can my subordinates trust me?” the young warrior countered.

“My grandson is not yet a warrior like you. So the appropriate opponents for him are your subordinates. Aren’t you ashamed? Besides, if you beat up my grandson and I do nothing, how can my grandson trust me?” the old master responded, echoing the young warrior’s earlier words.

Zyren, unwilling to back down, stepped forward. 

“Let me handle this myself. There’s no need for you to dirty your hands with such trivial matters,” he said, looking the young warrior in the eye. “If you can wound me within ten moves, I will concede. How about that?”

“I suppose it’s fair, given that you don’t even have internal energy,” the young warrior replied, his confidence unshaken.

The old man remained silent, though he couldn’t help but doubt whether his disciple could withstand ten moves. 

However, he knew Zyren was strong and clever, having trained with him for three months. Perhaps he could even last more than twenty moves.

“Very well then, let’s begin,” Zyren said, taking a stance, ready to receive the attacks.

The young warrior attacked Zyren swiftly, confident enough not to use his best techniques. 

But he was gravely mistaken. 

He had unleashed five moves, yet none hit Zyren. The old man’s disciple was too agile.

The warrior’s frustration grew. 

He had underestimated Zyren, forgetting that he had already defeated seven of his subordinates. 

Now, determined not to lose face, the young warrior prepared to unleash one of his best techniques.

The young warrior channeled his internal energy, launching energy-filled strikes toward Zyren.

But Zyren evaded the attacks with ease, causing the strikes to hit only air and trees. 

The power the young warrior exerted was formidable, yet it did nothing to faze Zyren. 

The more his attacks missed, the more furious the young warrior became, until he was attacking wildly.

“Enough!” the old man shouted. “You have attacked my grandson more than ten moves. As per our agreement, you have lost!” The old man’s glare was cold, his warning clear.

“Hahaha, truly shameful. Very well, I concede. But, is it possible that this matter will end here?” The young warrior’s tone was taunting, and the old man realized he was being provoked into a fight.

“I am too old for combat, young warrior. My grandson is also not yet ready to face you properly. How about we settle this another day? I will train my grandson well. If fate allows, you can have your fight,” the old man offered a wise compromise.

“If your grandson is willing to bow at my feet today, then I will consider this matter settled,” the young warrior demanded, revealing his true nature.

“You are a white-clad warrior. This should not be happening, should it? As far as I know, white-clad warriors are not taught to break promises or to act shamefully like this. Remember, you are a warrior, not a band of petty thugs,” the old man taunted, knowing that negotiation was no longer possible.

“Very well, old man. Before we fight, I will introduce myself. My name is Ryker, a disciple of the Azure Dragon Sect. It is an honor to fight with you,” the young warrior declared.

The Azure Dragon Sect was no small sect; it held significant influence in the martial world. 

However, many of its disciples, like Ryker, behaved inappropriately. Though still a young warrior without a title, Ryker sought recognition through battle. 

Titles were earned through victories, often linked to one’s ultimate skill and power. Unfortunately, Ryker had yet to create his own techniques.

“I am just a black-clad warrior, young man. My name is not important. If you truly desire a fight, I will oblige. I hope there will be no lingering grudges afterward,” the old man replied, accepting the challenge.