The Legend of Fist God

09 - Clan In Crisis

Gunnar was a member of the Fist Clan.

The Fist Clan’s territory used to be vast in the past, but with every year, they kept losing more and more of their land to the other clans.

Even recently, an entire street was taken away overnight by the neighboring Devil Knife clan, which was known for being the home of bandits.

Losing this street was a big deal because the Fist Clan had been keeping 11 streets for nearly a decade, and now, losing a commercial street was a big blow to them.

This naturally caused a commotion in the clan of nearly 3200 people.

At the clanhead’s meeting hall, the four elders were having a heated discussion with the patriarch.

“The Devil Knife Clan bastards are acting up like jackals in heat!” the fourth elder hissed.

“They got the backing of the Woodcutter Clan,” the third elder growled, “which is why they dared to snatch the Potter street!”

“Losing Potter Street is not just some border lost,” the second elder seriously insisted. “Without that street, we’ll lose a third of our income! We have to get it back no matter what!”

“Why aren’t you saying anything, Patriarch Warren?” the first elder blurted in rage. “When we were young, we managed to bring our clan into the list of the Thousand Terra Clans. We thought we’d climb the rankings, but then we began to go downhill again. We lost our position, and now we’ve become a lesser clan once again. If we don’t have even ten streets in our possession, I’m afraid that we’ll even lose our recognition as a clan! How can we then face our ancestors in the afterlife?”

Patriarch Warren had a deep frown on his face. “We can’t risk facing the Devil Knife clan, let alone the Woodwork clan as we are now. We have to strengthen the up-and-coming generation so that they will take the burden on their shoulders.”

“It isn’t like you to talk so cowardly!” the first elder, who was Warren’s own uncle, rebuked him. “You are still only forty five years old! How can you talk like you’re older than us? You have the responsibility to get stronger and lead our clan into a better future.”

Warren’s eyes, however, were somewhat dull and defeated.

The elders didn’t like his attitude, but they couldn’t press him too much, either, as he was the strongest man of the clan even after losing both of his legs.

Nevertheless, ever since he lost both of his legs, he had never been the same person.

“Don’t you want to take revenge for your third son’s death, Patriarch?” the first elder asked. “Gunnar was not talented, but he’s still my grandson. I can’t forgive the Woodwork Clan crooks for kidnapping him and killing him! We have to get our revenge for Gunnar and for every other evil thing they have done to us. Not just the woodwork clan but every other clan that looks down on us and mocks us for our poorness and rigidness… we have to prove them wrong!”

“...When Gunnar was alive, I didn’t care for him,” Warren said, his gaze still down. “I intentionally avoided him, thinking that he’d work harder to please me. Even if he didn’t live up to my expectations, I would have been fine if he was just living before my eyes.”

Silence filled the meeting hall.

The fourth elder, the youngest of the elders, broke the silence, “This isn’t the time to think of the dead but the living. We have to fight and take back Potter Street, or our clan is as good as gone!”

Warren took a deep breath. “Fine. Call our clan’s warriors back. We’ll fight for Potter Street.”

The elders’ eyes lit up when they heard those words because the patriarch had been passive for more than a year. So, this change was a great thing for them.

“Call my children home, too,” Warren added.

“Of course, I will,” the first elder grinned. “Though they joined decent sects, I’m sure this battle will help them grow. I can’t wait to see how much they have improved since the last time I saw them.”

Meanwhile, Gunnar just arrived at the southern border of the Fist clan, which was connected with the forest.

On the streetside, some kids were busy playing Shadow Tagging, a game where touching shadows instead of bodies counted.

“Strange… why are no guards stationed here?”

The kids saw Gunnar and thought he was an outsider, so they stopped playing and rushed into the village to inform others.

Gunnar roamed the southwest region and reached the southwest border, where he saw guards in excess there.

“Wait, why are many guards standing here instead of standing on the other side of Potter Street?”

His eyes slowly but surely widened.

“Don’t tell me… the Potter Street has been usurped by the Devil Knife clan?!”

Just then, a guard put his hand on Gunnar’s shoulder from behind. “Hey, you. Do you know where you are? This is the Fist Clan’s territory!”

Gunnar turned around and recognized this person. “Old Blob Hector?”

The old guard was puzzled for a second. “You know me? Who are you…” he was saying, but when Gunnar smiled, his eyes slowly widened. “N-No way.” He took a step back. “Y-You are… It can’t be…” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Y-Young Master Gunnar? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

Gunnar blinked twice. “WHAT? Who had me declared dead?!”