2025-09-17 16:58:53A young man walked toward the old well in the yard of a two-story wooden house. He drew water with a wooden bucket and a cloth rope.
“Arga!” someone called from the side. The young man stopped his work and turned toward the voice. He saw a girl waving. Arga returned her wave and offered a smile. But a moment later a haughty-looking youth appeared behind the girl. He glared at Arga and made a throat-slitting gesture. The girl turned and was startled to see the young man standing there. “Bhirawa! You followed me again!?” she snapped in annoyance. “Why are you greeting that trash? He doesn’t deserve a greeting from anyone,” Bhirawa said with a sneer in Arga’s direction. “But he’s our senior! You shouldn’t act like that, should you!?” the girl protested, still upset that Bhirawa followed her everywhere she went. At her words Bhirawa laughed aloud. “A senior? How can someone who can’t do anything be called a senior in our sect? He’s even weaker than a cat! It’s an embarrassment to our Golden Step Sect!” Bhirawa proclaimed. The girl had no reply. Arga was a disciple of the Golden Step Sect, one of the greatest sects in the Wind Nation — the Wind Isle. The sect was famed for training talented pupils and always taking first place in every major tournament. Arga had been there for almost two years. But his progress had been painfully slow. In contrast, Bhirawa was one of the most naturally gifted students in the sect. With so much attention on him, Bhirawa grew arrogant and haughty. He regularly showed off in front of his fellow disciples and treated Arga like a lackey. Arga could do little; no matter how hard he fought, Bhirawa remained far too strong for him. Realizing this, Arga kept silent and resumed drawing water from the well. Bhirawa watched him with a cynical smile. The girl before them looked dejected as she watched Arga hang his head, lacking any spirit. “How pitiful… He shouldn’t be treated this way by a junior. But what can I do? Bhirawa is too strong for the other students here. Unfortunately, he has a cruel heart,” the girl thought to herself. Suddenly someone gripped her right hand. When she looked back, Bhirawa was smiling at her. “Let’s leave this place. I’m sick of seeing this rotten trash here,” he said, a repulsive grin spreading across his face. The girl could do nothing to resist. Arga could only watch from a distance as Bhirawa dragged her into the inner courtyard of the Golden Step Sect. Arga exhaled, feeling the weight of his situation. Even after two years at the elite sect, he was still confined to the outer yard, an area reserved for those still learning the basics. When both buckets were full, Arga shouldered them and hurried to the bathing area. Every day he had to fill the water supply for the dozen or so outer-yard disciples. Most of them refused to draw water and chose to train instead. As the longest-standing outer disciple, Arga had no choice but to yield — he needed the water for bathing and for cooking. “How long will I endure a life like this?” Arga wondered. The next day, Ki Narada, his teacher, assigned Arga to gather medicinal herbs in the forest surrounding the sect. Kinanti, the girl who had greeted him the night before, was to accompany him. Ki Narada trusted Kinanti to protect Arga as he collected the herbs. Though she had only been at the sect for a year, her swordsmanship and combat ability far surpassed Arga’s, which was why she was chosen to escort him into the woods. From a distance, Bhirawa stared at Arga and Kinanti with clenched jaw, his face flushed with anger. “You bastard! That trash… he dares approach my woman!” Bhirawa fumed. His hands tightened into fists and his jaw hardened. After walking for a while beyond the sect, Arga turned right and headed into the dense forest. Kinanti followed behind; she dared not ask questions because Arga was so taciturn. Still, she kept watching him from behind, her feelings mixed. “Kinanti,” Arga suddenly spoke as they stepped into the woods. “Yes?” she answered. “Were you all right last night?” he asked while plucking some of the medicinal plants Ki Narada had requested. She nodded. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. Bhirawa wouldn’t dare do anything inside the sect,” Kinanti said. Arga gave a faint smile. Then he suddenly turned his head when he heard a thud. When he glanced back, a young man with a flushed, angry face stood there. Kinanti was startled — it was Bhirawa, appearing abruptly. “When did he get so close to us? Did he use a lightness technique so I couldn’t sense him…?” Kinanti thought. “I couldn’t do anything wicked inside that damn sect. So can I do it now? This is the forest outside the sect — a perfect place to do whatever I want without anyone knowing,” Bhirawa said as Kinanti edged closer to Arga and drew her sword. “What do you mean, Bhirawa!?” Kinanti shouted. Bhirawa sneered and stared at her. “You filthy woman! I told you to stay away from that trash because his stench will stick to your mind. And look at you — drawing your sword at me…” Bhirawa said as he stepped toward Arga and Kinanti. “Get away from us!” Kinanti barked, clearly alarmed. Bhirawa’s lips curled into a cruel smile. He clapped his hands several times as if signaling someone. True enough, five men from the Tapak Emas Sect emerged from the thick undergrowth. They circled Arga and Kinanti. “What shall we do to the two of them, Bhirawa?” one of them asked, eyeing Arga and Kinanti in turn. “Take care of the trash boy. Break his legs. I’ll deal with Kinanti myself. It’s time I make her my slave,” Bhirawa said, looking at Kinanti, who was visibly frightened.
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Poisoned Dagger Assault
Arga watched Wongso’s attack with a cold, calculating gaze.He moved with lightning speed to the side, drawing his sword and deflecting the two flying daggers in a single, fluid motion.Clang! Clang!In the next instant Arga had already resheathed his blade. The crowd erupted in astonishment at his defensive skill—if those daggers had not been stopped, they would have struck the spectators.“Not bad—so you could actually sense the qi I wove into those blades. I’m impressed,” Wongso taunted.For a moment Wongso’s eyes lingered on Arga’s sword; a brief, greedy thought crossed his face. Then he sneered and continued, “Why did you put your sword away? You should have kept it out. That attack wasn’t the only one—I have many more daggers.”True to his words, four poisoned blades were already in Wongso’s hands. Arga gave no answer to the man’s chatter. He remained intensely vigilant against the daggers and the man’s next move. His concern was not only for himself; he feared the weapons would
Secret
After Arga’s victory in the battle against Aji from the Blood Bat Sect, the remaining participants were struck with fear.They all knew that Aji was the strongest among them—second only to Arga. Realizing that facing him meant certain death, the other contestants raised their hands in surrender.No one had expected this outcome. The audience, who had paid several silver tails to watch a grand spectacle, was deeply disappointed.To appease their frustration, the Grandmaster of the Golden Step Sect, Rekso Atmoko, ordered one of his ten senior masters to face Arga in the arena.The decision was met with protest from Kirana Dewi, but her father remained firm and allowed the Tenth Master to step down into the ring.“Wongso, do not bring shame upon our sect,” Rekso Atmoko warned solemnly.The middle-aged man named Wongso bowed respectfully. Without a word, he descended into the fighting ground. The crowd murmured in surprise when they saw a sect leader entering the arena himself.“I have co
The Warrior with Dreadlocked Hair
Arga stood tall in the center of the arena, his expression calm yet fierce. The Masters of the Golden Step Sect watched him from the high podium, their faces dark with resentment.“Our plan failed again?” asked the First Master coldly.“Not yet,” replied the Second Master. “Let’s see how long he can last with wounds like that.”“Fine,” said the First Master, his tone sharp. “I’ll trust that this time, you’ll make it work.”Within the Golden Step Sect, there were ten masters. The leader of them all was Rekso Atmoko, father of Kirana Dewi, while the Second Master—his old friend—was named Ningrat Penjalu.Rekso had a daughter, Kirana Dewi, while Ningrat had a son named Bayu Sakti. The two families had agreed to betroth their children since childhood, but as the years passed, Kirana grew increasingly repulsed by Bayu’s behavior.Bayu was known for his arrogance and indulgence. He spent his nights drinking, gambling, and chasing women instead of training. His martial skill stagnated, and h
The True Knight
The next morning, Arga slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Kirana Dewi, standing near the window, getting dressed.Because she hadn’t yet finished putting on her clothes, Arga accidentally caught sight of her bare figure, illuminated by the soft morning light. His face instantly flushed, and he quickly turned his head away, heart pounding wildly in his chest.“H-how are you here, in my room?” he asked, still avoiding her gaze.Kirana froze, startled. She hadn’t expected him to wake up while she was still dressing. In a fluster, she rushed to cover herself, fumbling with her clothes as her cheeks burned a deep red.“I’m sorry,” she said once she had dressed properly. “I… I just borrowed your bathroom. My clothes were soaked with your blood from last night’s wounds.”Arga sat up slowly, his body still aching but his mind growing clearer.“So it was you… the one who saved me last night,” he murmured, his eyes finding hers.Kirana smiled faintly.“No, it was you who saved m
The Lantern Festival
Arga returned first to the inn, which stood not far from the heart of the Golden Step Sect. After a long day of battle and exhaustion, he went straight to his room. The quiet space felt like a brief escape from the world outside. When he finished bathing and changing his clothes, a sudden knock echoed from the door.Still buttoning his shirt, Arga opened it slightly.“Who is it?” he asked flatly.“It’s me, young master—Lastri,” a soft feminine voice answered.Arga opened the door wider. He was still in the middle of dressing, and as the light from the hallway spilled in, part of his bare, muscular torso became visible.Lastri’s face flushed instantly. Her eyes widened, and for a brief moment, she forgot how to breathe. His body—sculpted from years of discipline and training—was powerful but not bulky, the kind of strength that radiated quiet danger. His abdomen was defined, the muscles shifting naturally beneath his skin.“Is something wrong?” Arga asked coolly, noticing her hesitatio
Result of Hard Training
Weling Ireng darted forward, his right hand brimming with intense inner energy. His signature technique—the Poison-Breathing Serpent Strike—was infamous for its lethal potency. Even a light graze could cause flesh to blister and burn away as if scorched by fire. A direct hit, however, meant certain death—an end so gruesome that few dared to imagine it.Just sensing the energy emanating from that attack made Arga’s instincts scream of danger. But he had prepared himself for this kind of confrontation. The inner strength he had cultivated through countless nights of relentless training flowed within him like molten steel. Though he was only at the Iron Body stage, his punches carried a force that could crush bone and shatter will.When Weling Ireng lunged, Arga sidestepped swiftly to the right. Suspended midair, he waved his hand several times—he could feel something faint but deadly drifting toward him. A poisonous mist had filled the air, spreading from Weling Ireng’s palms."Even his
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