After that incident in the Temple market, the carriage carrying the sage settled into a steadier rhythm once the market district finally fell behind. Outside the window, the buildings grew taller, and the banners more frequent, the air thicker with the mixed scents of incense, roasting meat, and too many types of perfume. Jiro’s head tipped back against the soft cushion with the strong scent of those perfumes. Even from inside the carriage, it seemed like those perfumes on the capital's women's dresses reached his nose. The adrenaline from the slave poles drained out of him in a slow, heavy wave. And his eyes drifted shut once again, even with this strong scent disturbing him.
After about 10 minutes, he woke once to the sound of distant drums and the carriage slowing again.
“How much farther?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Tsunade sat across from him, one elbow resting on the window frame, eyes half-lidded but still watchful of the outside. “Soon. Rest while you can. The roads will stay jammed like this all the way to the Temple.”
Jiro blinked, trying to focus. “Is it always this crowded?”
“No.” A faint, dry note entered her voice. “Today the entire Temple district is holding a festival. For seven days. In honor of the new Sage’s arrival.”
The words sank in slowly in Jiro’s half-asleep mind. He stared at the carved ceiling of the carriage. ‘A festival. Seven days. People celebrating a stranger they had never met simply because an oracle said I’m the new Sage!’
“Uh-hh… Isn’t that basically screaming for someone to try something?” he asked. “The more people know I’m coming, the more time they have to prepare, right? Doesn’t that make it easier for someone to… you know. Plan something?”
Tsunade was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, her tone had shifted into a careful, measured cadence.
“If anyone is brave enough, or capable enough, to pull a stunt like that, it would have to come from either the Martial Realm or the Immortal Realm. The Immortal Realm and our Mortal Realm have a long-standing understanding. So you can rest assured about them. They neither care about nor fear the arrival of a new Sage, I think. They will not move.”
“Then what about that other realm?” Jiro asked. He knew there were three realms existing simultaneously in this world. Mortal realm, where they reside. Martial realm, just above this realm, is called the upper realm, too. And there is that Immortal realm, above all realms, where all cultivators reside, hence the name Immortal.
“If there is danger, it would come from the Martial Realm. They are… less restrained, as everyone knows by this point. They dislike how far the Mortal Realm has pulled ahead in recent times. So, I won’t say there isn’t any chance. I might even say there is a small chance they might try something. That is why I was sent to fetch you, Jiro-sama.”
Jiro’s face must have shown more than he intended. Not full fear, but the uneasy tightness of someone who had just been told the danger he always heard of in bedtime stories from his Mom might be coming after him, or even waiting for him in this unknown place.
Tsunade’s voice softened a fraction.
“Fear not, Jiro-sama. The oracle’s vision was clear. Nothing will happen to you on the road to the Temple. I have faith in that prophecy, at least. And we have placed extra security around this carriage and at the Temple gates, too. Nothing will go wrong.”
For some reason, just the quiet certainty in her tone did more than the words themselves for Jiro. He let his eyes close again. The drums outside faded into the steady creak of the carriage wheels. This time he slept deeply.
After sleeping for quite a while, he finally woke to the sudden absence of motion.
The carriage had stopped. Tsunade was already outside; he could hear her boots on stone and the low murmur of unknown voices. She leaned back in through the open door, one hand on the frame.
Jiro swung his legs down, still half-caught in the heavy pull of sleep. He set one foot on the metal foothold, the other still inside the carriage, and looked up.
Suddenly the world exploded into noise.
Shouts. The scrape of steel. Someone screaming an order that cut through everything else:
“Grab the boy in the carriage! Don’t waste time!”
Knowing something was wrong, Tsunade’s hand slammed into his chest. The push was hard, precise, and completely without warning for the half-asleep Jiro. He toppled backward into the carriage, skull cracking against the doorframe hard enough to make white sparks burst behind his eyes. The door slammed shut an instant later. Outside, the shouting rose into a full roar.
He sat on the floor of the carriage, one hand pressed to the side of his head, vision swimming, and tried to understand what had just happened.
Outside, Tsunade had already turned.
A kick came the moment her attention shifted from shoving Jiro to the figures behind her. She caught it on the sheath of her sword, the impact traveling up her arms and into her shoulders with a dull, heavy shock. She slammed into the body of the carriage with a loud thud.
Recovering in seconds, she slid half a step back, boots scraping stone, and ripped the blade from her waist free in the same motion. The steel cleared the scabbard with a clean, sharp sound.
Three figures stood between her and the wide Temple gates.
All three wore dark masks. One carried a long sword, another a spear, and the third stood empty-handed. Even without any weapon, Tsunade knew this man needed no weapon. After all, he was a martial artist.
Behind them, the Temple knights who had been waiting at the entrance were already locked in combat; several lay unmoving on the stones. The big knight who had accompanied them from Doldia, at the front carriage, was being driven back by the spearman, his armor scored and his breathing harsh.
Tsunade spat to the side. The saliva that hit the ground was pink.
“You fucking Martial artists.”
The barehanded man laughed, a short, ugly sound.
The swordsman named Hyuna reached up and pulled his mask free. A sharp-featured face, older than Tsunade by several years, looked her over with open amusement.
“Oh yeah. It’s her. Who knew we would find her like this. She grew up well, didn’t she, bro?”
The spearman from behind snapped, voice tight with strain as he held off three knights at once, adding the big knight among them, “Do your damn work, you fucking idiots. Stop chatting with her. Grab the boy and get out of here. I can’t hold this many forever.”
The barehanded man glanced over his shoulder with a mocking grin. “Oh.. What’s this? A star pupil of the spear can’t even handle a few Temple dogs? If that’s the standard, I guess I won’t have any trouble surpassing your whole clan by myself. hahahaha.”
The spearman’s shoulders stiffened. “Say that again….”
Tsunade’s voice cut across them, cool and edged.
“Long time no see, seniors. I see none of you have changed. Still as competitive as ever. What is it this time? Came to snatch our Sage right in front of the Temple gates? Isn’t that bold, even for you all Martial Realm trash? What makes you think you can take him while I’m still standing? Right at the entrance of our Temple gate, no less?”
The swordsman, Hyuna, smiled wider.
“Don’t bluff, Tsunade. You’re only alive because we haven’t decided otherwise yet. And we know about the broken mana vein. No need to act tough against us. You couldn’t form a mana core, right? Everyone heard that little pitiful story of yours at the Martial clans.”
Tsunade’s grip on her sword tightened.
“Senpai. I know you’ve reached the Martial stage already. Was this abduction your first assignment right out of the gate?”
Hyuna’s laugh was sharp. “Still as clever as ever. Well, not that it matters. Because all your knowing won’t change a thing. Today I’m gonna settle the score with you, for always beating me in swordsmanship."
He moved.
The sword stroke came down like a falling beam. Tsunade met it with both hands on the hilt; the impact drove her boots an inch into the stone, cracking the stone below her into pieces and sending a shock up her arms that made her teeth click together. Before she could recover from that, the barehanded man was already there. His kick took her cleanly in the gut. Air exploded from her lungs.
She staggered, bent her body, and spat a bright splash of blood onto the paving stones.
Across the courtyard, Roland, the big knight, roared something that was half curse, half warning. The spearman’s weapon blurred to keep him in check; two more knights went down and did not get up. Their knight armor seemed to mean nothing against the reach and precision of that spear. Not to mention the brilliant spearmanship the Martial artist himself had. Even though Roland was as good a knight as could be among the top rankers of the Temple knight battalions, he struggled against this monster of a man.
Tsunade straightened as much as the fire in her stomach would allow, blood still wet on her lips, and set her feet again between the three Martial artists and the carriage that held the Sage.