THE LAST WARRIOR REVENGE

Disappointment

Narada turned toward Arga, who lay on the ground clutching his right leg. The middle-aged man shook his head and clicked his tongue. From the look in his eyes, it was clear how disappointed he was with his disciple’s actions.

“This is truly outrageous! I never imagined I had raised a wolf,” he muttered softly as he stepped closer to Arga. The man crouched and pressed a point on the young man’s thigh. After the acupoint strike, Arga appeared calmer, the pain subsiding somewhat.

“Thank you, Master…” Arga whispered. Master Narada did not respond. He stood, gazing toward the trees.

“If you do not change your ways, I will show no mercy to those of you who have broken the rules of our Sect,” he said in a quiet voice that still echoed through the forest.

Bhirawa’s five friends immediately emerged from hiding and knelt before Master Narada.

“Forgive us, Master… We were blinded and committed disgraceful acts against Senior Brother Arga…” said the young man who had earlier broken Arga’s leg with a single kick.

Master Narada looked at them with eyes full of disappointment.

“Did I train you to oppress others? You know well that Arga is a disciple of the Golden Step Sect. Whatever progress he has made over the past two years, that does not give you the right to demean him with such cruelty. Don’t you all have talent? Why, then, do you abuse those weaker than you? Have you become fools by befriending Bhirawa!?” Master Narada’s voice rang out sternly.

“Please forgive us, Master… We only followed Bhirawa’s orders. We could not refuse him, for none of us could oppose him…” one of them pleaded.

Bhirawa, hearing this, grew furious.

“Why are you blaming me!? Didn’t you all hate that brat too, huh!?” he shouted angrily.

His five companions fell silent under the weight of his rage. Master Narada sighed deeply and exhaled hard, as though releasing the heaviness from his heart.

“This matter will be judged at the Sect together with the elders. Return now. Two of you will escort Arga back to his quarters. Beware if you step out of line again,” Master Narada said in a threatening tone. The five nodded quickly.

“I will take Kinanti home,” Master Narada said to Arga, who seemed worried about her fate. Relieved, Arga let out a breath. Two disciples quickly made a stretcher and carried his body away from the forest.

Master Narada then turned to Bhirawa, still kneeling on the ground.

“I expect you to take responsibility for what you’ve done, Bhirawa. No matter what, I am still your mentor,” said Master Narada before carrying Kinanti away, after wrapping her in cloth.

Left behind, Bhirawa raised his head to the sky. His face was expressionless—until moments later, he broke into a wide grin, eyes blazing.

“Take responsibility? Hah! I’ll never return to that filthy place! Do you think Golden Step step is the only great sect in the Land of the Wind!? Just watch—I’ll erase you all from the map!” Bhirawa sneered, then burst into mad laughter that echoed through the forest.

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Months passed since that fateful night in the forest. Arga, once an outer disciple, had now joined the inner court, trained directly by Master Narada. Thanks to the master’s healing methods, his leg had fully recovered, and Arga’s growth was rapid. He began to compete on equal footing with his peers.

But since that day, Bhirawa had never returned to the Sect. Some of the elders blamed one another, but in the end, nothing could be done. Bhirawa had brought shame upon the sect, a disgrace that could never be forgiven.

In his absence, Arga flourished. He began mastering sword techniques taught by Master Narada and the other teachers.

No longer was he a servant boy. He no longer fetched water or performed menial tasks. Now he stood as an equal to the inner disciples, thanks to Master Narada’s support. Yet even with all this progress, something still weighed heavily on his heart—the elders’ demand that he represent the Tapak Emas Sect in the great tournament held once every few years.

He had little choice but to accept. In just months, the sect had given him so much. His broken leg had healed within two months thanks to rare medicinal herbs prepared by one of Golden Step skilled physicians. He had also received countless resources to aid his cultivation, allowing him to stand toe-to-toe with other disciples. For Arga, it was a dream come true.

Bhirawa’s departure had shaken the sect, for he had once been their champion, expected to bring glory in the upcoming tournament hosted by the Red Frog Sect in the years ahead.

Arga, however, grew more determined than ever, training diligently. Sometimes he sparred with Kinanti—and more often than not, he emerged victorious. Life at Golden Step seemed peaceful, as though nothing could disturb it. But it was only the calm before a great storm that would soon strike the number one sect in the Land of the Wind.

One evening, Arga stepped out of the training hall, his body drenched in sweat. Kinanti followed, stretching her limbs.

“Hah! I lost again! Am I not even your match anymore?” she grumbled, walking at his side. Arga gave a faint smile.

“That’s because you don’t train hard enough. Since that incident, I’ve sworn to grow stronger and stronger, so that nothing like it ever happens again. I’ll never forget it,” Arga said firmly.

Kinanti nodded.

“I feel the same. But I still consider myself luckier than you, because Master Narada saved me. At that time, your leg was broken… you must have suffered terribly. Yet in the end, something terrible turned into something unexpectedly good for you, didn’t it?” she said gently.

Arga nodded, staring at her face. For some reason, that night, a strange unease stirred in his heart.

At the crossroads, Kinanti parted ways with him, waving cheerfully. Arga waved back, unaware that this night would be the last time he ever saw Kinanti’s innocent smile.