From my knowledge, there are no ‘sects’ in Grains City, Zani thought, staring blankly at the ruined, weed-infested courtyard before him.
I do not even know what a true sect looks like.
Nor have I ever laid eyes on a soaring Immortal.
All his knowledge of the profound martial path came from village storytellers and exaggerated mortal myths.
He only knew that the first stage of cultivation was called ‘Skin Tempering,’ and that Chief Sythe was supposedly an expert at this stage.
Moreover, within Grains City, there are only three official dojos and the Mayor’s Manor.
To the locals, those are the only sacred grounds capable of producing true martial artists.
If he dared to hang a signboard declaring this ruined courtyard a ‘Dojo’ or a ‘Sect,’ the local experts would surely smash his gates to preserve their own face and authority.
Thus, doing so right now would simply be asking for a beating.
For a name, his choices were heavily restricted.
A temple?
No.
If he named it something like ‘Iron Temple,’ no one would dare join; in this region, temples were strictly for ascetic monks who had severed their worldly desires.
That left only a term from his past life.
A Gym.
I will name it the Iron Core Gym, Zani decided inwardly, his eyes flashing with determination.
…
Nothing happened.
[Host must hang a physical signboard bearing the Sect’s name to complete the naming process.] Zani released a long sigh, continuing to stare absentmindedly through the rusted iron gates of the old training ground.
Behind him, a crowd of villagers had gathered.
The peanut gallery was already whispering, their voices filled with heavy schadenfreude and pity.
“So, this is what the Immortal’s legacy looks like from the inside?” “Bah!
Just a weed-infested dump.
I wasted my time coming here.” “You only wasted your time.
That foolish orphan wasted his entire ancestral inheritance to buy it.” “What was he thinking?
Has grief completely rotted his brain?” “Could there be some hidden treasure buried inside that main hall?” Hearing the crowd muttering behind them, the two hired laborers exchanged awkward glances.
They were feeling more shame than the young master who was currently standing frozen before the gates.
They naturally assumed the boy was having a mental breakdown after realizing he had been thoroughly scammed by the Chief.
“Young Master Zani?” one of them asked gently, stepping forward to support the boy.
“Perhaps we should return your belongings to the old house for now…” Zani said nothing; he ignored everything as he walked to his beast cart and fetched a heavy iron sickle from his meager belongings, which had cost him forty copper coins in the market.
Turning back to the two laborers, Zani cupped his fists politely.
“Uncles, please follow me.
We must clear a path through these weeds to the main hall before nightfall.” Without waiting for their bewildered response, Zani stepped into the sea of waist-high grass, ruthlessly hacking a path forward.
Realizing the young man’s firm resolve, the two older men quickly grabbed their tools and followed behind.
Cutting through the thick, stubborn weeds and hauling all of Zani’s belongings into the empty, dust-choked main hall consumed the remainder of the daylight.
By nightfall, Zani was lying flat on a hard wooden bed in the village tavern, his body thoroughly exhausted.
“I was too hasty in bringing my belongings over.
It would have been wiser to hire men to clear the domain first,” he muttered, massaging his sore shoulders.
Thinking of the current, pathetic state of his ‘sacred training ground,’ Zani could only sigh at the heavens.
In his past life on Earth, he had been a simple man with no grand ambitions.
Because of a deep psychological scar suffered in his youth, he had never married, spending his twilight years in a quiet village teaching young students.
It was a fulfilling, peaceful life, but when his time at the yellow springs finally came, he was left with one profound regret.
No one was going to remember him.
He had no descendants.
He had done nothing world-shaking.
Within a single year of his passing, his name would fade like dust in the wind.
But this life was different.
He had been blessed by the heavens with a System.
I will forge a legacy, Zani thought, his eyes burning with a newfound, unyielding resolve in the dim tavern room.
I will become an existence that is revered even after centuries pass.
Furthermore, this profound world possessed the ultimate allure: Immortality.
To grasp it, he was willing to swallow any hardship.
Sorting his chaotic thoughts, he closed his eyes and sank into a deep, dreamless slumber.
The next morning.
Knock, knock.
Zani stood before a sturdy wooden house, sweating slightly under the morning sun.
“Brother Teer!
Are you inside?” Before long, the heavy wooden door swung open, revealing a burly, heavily scarred man exuding a fierce, imposing aura.
“Little Brother Zani!
It is rare to see you, let alone at my door,” the rugged man boomed.
“Tell me, what brings you to seek out this older brother?” Teer was the premier hunter of Big Wheat Village.
Their village bordered the perilous Slaughter City, separated only by a vast, sprawling mountain range.
These mountains teemed with wild beasts and medicinal herbs, making hunting a lucrative, albeit highly dangerous, profession.
However, since the most ferocious beasts on the outer edges were mostly wild boars, a skilled man like Teer lived quite comfortably.
Cupping his fists respectfully, Zani put on a flawless display of urgency.
“Brother Teer, I require your martial prowess.
I found a massive snake nested in the training ground I just purchased.
I fear for my life clearing the brush alone.” “Oh?
A serpent?” Teer laughed heartily, his chest puffing out.
“Worry not, Little Brother!
This Teer will help you slaughter it and clear it out.” They quickly negotiated a fair price of thirty-five copper coins for the hunter’s protection.
Gritting his teeth at the mounting expenses, Zani also sought out the two old laborers once more.
With Teer standing guard with his blade drawn to deal with the local wildlife, the three of them made quick work of the overgrown courtyard.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the sprawling courtyard was completely stripped of weeds from the inside out.
Standing at the grand iron gates, Zani clasped his hands and bowed slightly, giving the men maximum face as he paid them and bid them farewell.
Only once they were entirely out of sight did he lock the heavy gates and trudge back toward the tavern.
“The martial path is truly paved with copper,” Zani lamented, sitting cross-legged on his tavern bed as he calculated his ledger.
“Twenty copper coins to hire the two laborers today…
Thirty-five copper coins for Brother Teer…
Twenty copper coins used yesterday for the beast cart to move my belongings…
And my food and lodging at this tavern comes to fifteen copper coins…” He poured the remaining coins from his pouch onto the bed, counting them meticulously.
“Combined with the forty coppers spent on my iron sickle, I am left with exactly one silver and seventy copper coins.” Having balanced his bleeding accounts, he let out a tired breath and fell back onto the sheets.
The following day, Zani did not hire any help.
Working completely alone, he spent the entire day sweeping the massive main hall, clearing away a decade’s worth of spiderwebs, and violently scrubbing the stone floors until they revealed their original, cold luster.
Finally, he arranged his meager furniture.
The hall was incredibly spacious, explicitly designed by the ancients for weapon mastery.
The floor was paved with solid stone, featuring five distinct, circular soil rings meant for sparring matches.
Attached to the left wing of the hall were three adjoining rooms: a large kitchen area and two living quarters.
Zani claimed the master quarters for himself.
That night, he finally slept in his own domain, no longer forced to bleed his precious coppers at the tavern.
Ten days passed in a flash.
“Finally…
everything is done.” Leaning heavily on a wooden hoe, Zani wiped the grime and sweat from his brows.
For the past ten days, he had cultivated like a madman – not with profound martial arts, but with brutal manual labor.
He had painstakingly loosened the soil in the massive courtyard, digging out stubborn weed roots and hauling away jagged stones, rendering the earth perfectly flat and suitable for physical conditioning.
“I will rest for the remainder of today.
Tomorrow, I will visit the carpenter and officially commission the signboard.” Though he could have hung a cheap piece of scrap wood ten days ago to quickly claim his System reward, he had firmly held back.
In his heart, hanging the board was a sacred ceremony.
It was the true opening of his sect.
The next morning, the sky was bright and clear.
Zani stood before the grand gates, dressed in neat, immaculate robes.
His posture was straight as a spear, his hands clasped firmly behind his back, exuding the faint, unfathomable aura of a young master.
Above him, two hired carpenters balanced precariously on ladders, carefully securing a heavy, beautifully carved wooden signboard above the iron gates.
Iron Core Gym.
The moment the heavy board settled firmly into place, a crisp, mechanical sound echoed in his mind.
[Ding~] [Sect Name Registered: Iron Core Gym] [Sect Master: Zani] [Disciples: 0] [Naming Completed.] [Reward: Dumbbell Set (Max Weight: 500kg) x 5]