THE LAST WARRIOR REVENGE

The Tournament

Arga fixed his gaze on the man who had just arrived. He sensed a different aura. The man named Marga was somewhat stronger than the band of losers he had dealt with earlier in the tavern.

“Who are you, really!?” Marga barked harshly.

Arga only sighed as he looked at the sturdy man. Just by glancing at Marga’s body, he could already see several weak points.

Feeling ignored, Marga immediately launched a swift attack at the young man with the red headband.

His right fist swung with frightening force. If it landed, it could have shattered bones instantly.

But Arga easily evaded it. He shifted to the right, and with lightning speed, his left hand struck Marga’s shoulder.

Two of Arga’s fingers pressed against Marga’s right shoulder, the one he had just used to attack. At once, Marga felt his right arm go limp, completely useless.

“What has this man done to my arm!?” Marga thought angrily. He tried to move it, but nothing happened.

Seeing how Arga had dodged and countered his strikes so effortlessly, Marga hesitated to continue the fight. Even worse, with just one move, his right arm had been rendered powerless.

Arga had no desire to stir up more trouble that could draw unnecessary attention from the Red Frog Sect. That would only interfere with his greater plan.

For the sake of that plan, he reluctantly bowed before Marga and offered an apology.

Seeing Arga bow, Marga regained his arrogance.

“Kneel at my feet and beg for mercy, and I will let you go!” Marga demanded, his face twisted with anger.

Arga snorted loudly. Without uttering a word, he lunged forward, grabbed Marga’s head, and with a powerful pull, slammed him down against the street beneath his feet.

Marga crashed onto the stone road right in front of Arga’s feet.

Thud!

His face smashed into the stone so hard that his nose broke. Blood gushed from the wound. Everyone watching—including Jaya and his companions—stared in horror. They had never expected that a Red Frog Sect teacher would be so easily humiliated by a stranger they had dismissed as a beggar.

Marga groaned in pain, but Arga didn’t care. He yanked the man’s hair, forcing his head upward while his body remained prone on the ground.

“What right do you have to order me to kneel? I could kill you if I wanted, but you’re not worth killing. Do you still plan to do anything foolish? Or do you want me to snap your neck right now?” Arga asked coldly, his eyes terrifying.

Marga froze, paralyzed with fear. Jaya and the others dared not move a muscle.

“If this weren’t a crowded place, you’d already be a headless corpse,” Arga whispered, making Marga’s heart tremble.

Then Arga shoved his head back down, slamming it into the stones once more. Marga instantly lost consciousness.

The Red Frog Sect disciples who had accompanied their teacher no longer dared to provoke Arga. They stood silently, realizing the vast difference in strength between them and the stranger.

Arga turned and left, leaving Marga sprawled on the stone road. Once he was gone, Jaya and the others rushed to their fallen teacher.

“Master Marga, are you all right?” Jaya asked as he helped him up. Marga looked weak and battered, blood still streaming from his shattered nose.

“Damn it… I won’t accept this humiliation. Just wait,” Marga muttered, filled with hatred and vengeance.

“He’s no ordinary warrior, Master. I regret provoking him—it has only brought disaster upon us…” Jaya admitted.

“I don’t care! He’s done this to me, which means he must face the consequences!” Marga roared, still seething with anger.

They eventually returned to the sect to tend to Marga’s injuries. Jaya, walking behind him, cast a cold, disappointed glance.

“Pathetic… a useless teacher,” he thought to himself.

---

Meanwhile…

After searching for a place to stay, Arga finally found an inn not far from where the commotion had happened.

The inn’s maid was strikingly beautiful, catching Arga’s attention without him meaning to. She bowed and smiled warmly at him.

Arga did not return the smile. He didn’t know how to respond.

“Welcome, sir. How many days will you be staying?” the maid asked politely.

“Perhaps three or four days,” Arga replied curtly.

“The room f*e is thirty silver tails, with meals three times a day for ten silver tails. Altogether, that will be forty silver tails, sir,” the maid explained.

Arga nodded and reached for the small pouch hanging at his waist. He opened it.

The maid smiled faintly, convinced of what she would see.

In her heart, she was certain this man was nothing but a poor wanderer.

“I’m sure he only has a few silver tails at most. How pitiful. Should I take pity on him?” she thought.

Arga rummaged through the pouch, and his uncertain movements made her suspicion grow stronger.

“Oh dear… I was right!” she thought to herself.

For three years, while living with his master, Arga had saved money from selling firewood and green gems. He had gathered it all as travel provisions. Now he drew something from the pouch and placed it on the counter.

“Sorry, I only have this,” Arga said, laying down forty gold tails.

The maid’s eyes widened. She had completely misjudged him. The man before her was no beggar.

“He’s rich…!” she screamed inwardly.

There wasn’t a single silver tail in Arga’s pouch—only gold. That was why he had seemed confused when asked to pay in silver.

At the tavern earlier, he had covered all damages caused during his fight with the Red Frog Sect disciples using just one gold tail. The owner had instantly fallen silent, forgetting all complaints about the destruction.

And now, with a single gold tail, Arga was granted the finest room and premium meals for ten full days.

The maid apologized for her earlier judgment.

Arga simply smiled and didn’t hold it against her. In fact, because of her honesty, he gifted her another gold tail.

One gold tail was equal to a thousand silver tails. The maid was overwhelmed with joy, even bursting into tears. To earn that much, she would have had to work for months at the inn, and even then, it might not have been enough for her living expenses.

But thanks to Arga’s generosity, all her needs would now be met.

“If you have any other requests, sir, I will gladly serve you,” the maid said, her face flushing red. She struggled to think of how to repay such kindness. If she could please him in bed, she thought, maybe her debt of gratitude would feel repaid.

But Arga only gave a faint smile and walked calmly to his room, ignoring her words. She gazed at him with admiration until the door closed behind him.

“He’s so kind…” she thought, her lips curving into a smile.

---

The next day, Arga heard news that the tournament for the Eternal Scroll would begin in two days. He immediately devised a plan to enter the Red Frog Sect.

“I’ll join the competition. Perhaps that’s the only way to gain easier access to the sect,” Arga thought, while donning the new clothes he had just bought through the maid.

Now, he looked like a refined young master—handsome and dashing. Any girl would be captivated by his looks, especially since his thick beard had been trimmed, leaving his face clean and striking.

Clad in red attire, he took his sword and stepped out of his room, heading toward the registration for the tournament.