Morganburg was very different from the City of Angels.

  This was something Lee had realized after he had explored the city for a bit.

  The City of Angels did not lack for a military presence, being the main headquarters of the Emperor’s Hands, but it also had a fairly elite garrison that he had never been transferred to, even as someone who had been born and raised within the city. The garrison handled relatively domestic matters, such as patrols and managing criminals.

  Compared to villages or large towns, the City of Angels could be said to have an excessive amount of military activity. A large military force working to defend the city from threats, and an elite force using it to train their greenhorns. It was also built extremely well, with a large wall of what looked like stone and a moat surrounding it. Most likely, there was also a powerful barrier generator somewhere within the city, though he had no idea where it could even be.

  Defensible, militarized, and well-armed—especially when the Artificer’s College was also based within that city. It would be nigh impossible for any conventional force to take it in a direct manner—they would have to siege the city to attempt to starve it out. But the chances of the Emperor’s Hands letting a siege happen in the first place would be very low—even discounting the fact that the City of Angels was close to the Empire’s heartland, allowing for reinforcements to rebuff any attempts of a siege.

  Morganburg manages to make the militarization of the City of Angels look far less than it actually is.

  The moment he had arrived at the city’s southern gate he was stopped by a squad of soldiers. “Halt!”

  Lee obeyed, stopping in front of them as two soldiers went to pat him down and another rummaged through his bag, pausing with a grunt of confusion.

  “Why’s your bag cold?” He asked. Lee shrugged.

  “Artificer experiment, trying to make my food last longer without having to buy a stasis gem,” Lee said in response.

  “Hm. Alright,” The guard accepted the explanation, eyeing the spear a bit before signaling the two guards patting him down to move away, finishing up their inspection. “Okay. You’re good. I just need to see your identification.”

  “Here you go,” Lee was ready for this and showed him his identification card. The guard snatched it as he looked through it, using his other hand to open up a purple booklet.

  There was a short period of silence as Lee, bored, leaned on one foot as he examined the squad that was manning the gate. These were the infantry, of course—most of these menial duties would be done by infantry. Archers were likely stationed inside the walls, peeking out of those little slits he saw along towers that were placed in regular intervals along the wall.

  Despite the actual importance of their task of preventing possible spies from infiltrating the cities, the guards looked bored. Lee couldn’t really blame them. Morganburg was far from the frontline, and he was walking in from the southern entrance, which meant he came from somewhere within the Empire already. But they still had to follow protocol, especially when it was new.

  “Okay. You’re good, Mr. Artificer,” he passed back Lee’s identification card to him. “Sorry for the trouble, but you know how it is, with the war and all…”

  “No worries,” Lee lightly smiled as he pocketed his ID. “Thank you for your service, sir guard. I’ll be on my way now,” though now that he was here, he paused. “Actually, I do have a question. Do you know any places where I could learn how to use this spear?”

  “Other than the Imperial Army, you mean?” One of the other guards piped up. The lead guard gave him a withering stare, making that one shrink back as the leader answered.

  “There are a few schools within the city that teach spear arts. You’ll have to go to the Martial District to find them—though that’s really where everything combat is. So, you’ll find a lot of combat schools there,” the lead guard shrugged. “I’m afraid we can’t give you any clearer directions, sir—we were stationed here just recently. And none of us really went to look for a spear school.”

  “That’s fine. Where’s the Martial District, though?”

  “Ah, it’s—” the lead guard rattled off some directions, and Lee smiled and nodded.

  “Thank you,” Lee fished out a few coins from his pocket and gave it to the lead guard. He’s not exactly flush with money, but he can at least give this much for someone who had helped him. “For your troubles.”

  “No problem, sir,” the lead guard grinned as he pocketed the money, and Lee moved on.

  The inside of the city was not very different from the City of Angels. A bit less advanced, of course—they didn’t have proper roads for automobiles, unlike in his home city, but they had streetlights, shops, advertisements. The like. It was the culture that was different.

  Back in Lee’s home, the advertisements tended towards selling devices. It made sense, if he thought longer about it—with the Artificer’s College so close by, there were plenty of either aspiring artificers or expert artificers selling their technology to people who could afford it. There were music players, recorders, toys—anything that could possibly be created to make things convenient most likely had an artificer making something for it.

  In Morganburg, the advertisements changed to be something martially focused.

  There were weapon stalls everywhere. He passed by food stalls that were selling bread shaped like swords or staves. He watched a duel happen in a public park, and it didn’t even seem like it was done out of some sort of petty vengeance, just seemed like it was done for fun. Posters were plastered everywhere, advertising one martial school after the other as people milled around.

  Even the conversations were different.

  “So, I heard that the Heartman Sword School was—”

  “The current tournament champ is—”

  “Oh, gods, I really want to try this new technique I learned—”

  Lee was nitpicking a bit. There were other conversations that weren’t fully martially focused, but they were common enough to be fascinating to him. It told him that martial arts wasn’t just a tool here—but a way of life.

  Well, back home, I suppose it was similar too, but for artificing. Lee mused. Couldn’t go two steps without hearing about the ‘latest trends’ or another ‘great innovator’. Of course, this kind of talk was something he mainly remembered happening before the war dragged on for as long as it did. It was hard to remember anyone talking about anything else but the war when it really got going… though that might have to do with the fact that he was in the army both times he did get to that point.

  And speaking of the war—this city was not unaffected by it either. Aside from the inspection from the gate, there were recruitment posters plastered in every wall possible. On the city’s walls, on a streetlight, on a restaurant… They were practically everywhere, alongside various martial school and small tournament advertisements.

  There were also soldiers sitting in stalls, calling out to passing martial artists and attempting to recruit them, to varying effect. Lee wasn’t sure if it was effective, but they were certainly trying their best.

  The recruitment campaigns around the city were much more intense than he had experienced in the City of Angels, and that’s certainly because of the caliber of people that were present within Morganburg. While a good martial artist does not necessarily make a good soldier, it’s always better to have someone who knew how to fight rather than someone who doesn’t.

  There were also uses for people who were good at fighting but couldn’t play well inside a legion. Lee had seen them very briefly, but there were ‘legions’, or rather, soldiers with a loose hierarchy, that acted as shock troops. The people in these legions did not take orders very well, so what Lee had seen his commanding officers do was just give them a space in the legion and let them do their work.

  Good fighters, but not fit for the typical formation that a legion uses. There would be plenty of that in Morganburg—a nasty surprise for a barbarian attacking force that was expecting their structured assaults.

  Of course, that was only if they were good enough. From what Lee could reckon… the random civilians that were walking around, even if they were inducted into a martial art, weren’t particularly on the same caliber as those types of soldier, but the potential was there. Perhaps that was what the army was banking on, recruiting as they are—or perhaps they are simply looking for people to fill out the legions.

  Nevertheless. He was not here to gawk at the culture or waste his time exploring, but to train his spearmanship. There would be time for that later, he hoped—but that would be in the future. Hopefully, he can find a school that would be willing to teach him.

  Finding the Martial District was easy with the directions the guard had given him. Finding a school that would teach him… not so much.

  There were many schools around the district that were certainly offering training. It was not hard to see them, given that many also have pretty open halls that showed numerous people training within them. The problem was that…

  “Um, sorry? Do you have a recommendation? No? I’m afraid the master only takes students with… potential.”

  Ugh. It’s like Artificer’s College again. Maybe the next one will be fine.

  “Who are you? Get out of here. We don’t train homeless people like you.”

  … You didn’t even let me speak.

  “You don’t fit with the training environment we attempt to cultivate in this dojo. I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere.”

  Awfully reminiscent of the words I heard so often when I job hunted…

  “Three thousand coins, up front. And two hundred every succeeding month.”

  That’s pretty much robbery! I don’t have the coins for that!

  The situation boiled down to something like that. Most of the schools he had attempted to enroll into had prices that were too steep or were invite only. He should have figured that the schools inside a district specifically made for them would be more elitist. That was on him for his poor judgement.

  He heaved a sigh as he sat down on a bench, watching people train. He had asked in every major establishment around the district—and he lacked the information to search for ‘hidden gems’ that could be around.

  Is this a dud, then? Should I not have wasted my time coming here?

  He didn’t want to think so. He had spent nearly a month just to get to the city—he wouldn’t want to leave empty handed. Perhaps there’s still a way. The travel to this city would’ve been pointless if he couldn’t get anything out of it.

  His eyes trailed over to a poster plastered on a wall.

  It was colorful, almost garish. There was an eye-catching drawing of a barely dressed woman holding up a sign saying “ANNUAL MARTIAL TOURNAMENT!” in a bold font, alongside a list of rewards. First place got five thousand coins, second place got three thousand coins, and third place got one thousand coins. Plenty of money, but that wasn’t the biggest thing that attracted him to the poster.

  The Biggest Tournament in Morganburg! New and Old, come join!

  The biggest tournament in the city, with almost no entry requirements? It’s extremely foolish to try and join. It’d be obvious that the veteran martial artists would demolish the newer ones. However, further inspection revealed the existence of ‘brackets’, where relatively equally skilled martial artists were placed in the same tier.

  He doesn’t know how that works aside from it being like an honor system. He was sure there were bound to be cheaters present, especially among the lower brackets, but… It might be worth a shot.

  Not just for the money, but for the chance to prove himself. He still wanted to learn how to use his spear more effectively, and while he wasn’t confident in his skills, at the very least, he could put himself out there as an element, as a somebody. His main issue in looking for a school right now is that he didn’t have a resume. He wasn’t a proven element.

  Maybe. He hopes. At this moment, he was feeling a bit let down because of all the standards he had apparently failed to meet, and a tournament won’t set him back too badly from his travels. Perhaps, after the tournament is complete, he can point to his showing in it as proof. Perhaps with his skills, he could be placed in the intermediate bracket. That’s a nice, middle of the road potential. Especially as young as his body is at this time.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  So it was with this thought that he headed over to where registration was taking place, which happened to be where the tournament was also being held. It was an area fenced off from the public. There were three smaller fenced off areas within the place—presumably where the contestants would fight. The combat rings were surrounded by tiered seatings and stalls selling food and drinks—convenient for both the contestants and the spectators.

  There were plenty of people, as is expected from such a big tournament. Many looked skilled. The upper brackets must have more participants. Lee mused. It would make a degree of sense—the better the skill level, the more they wish to test themselves, and the war has not yet turned to conscripting them. This would be the next best thing for a couple of years, or until they decided to go to the frontlines.

  He reached the stall that had a bored clerk manning it. When Lee approached, the clerk perked up. “Hello! Would you like to register for the tournament? We’re about to start in a few hours, so if you want to join, now’s the time! You won’t have an experience like this until the next one next year!”

  “Wait, it’s right now?” Lee blanched. He hadn’t expected that. He thought he might still have some time to train a bit more, but… that was fine too. He cleared his throat. “Ehem. I mean, yes, I’d like to join the tournament.”

  “Splendid!” The clerk’s smile widened. “There’s a small entry fee, of course—one hundred coins. Do you have any questions about the tournament itself? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

  “Yes, I’m from the City of Angels. This would be my first tournament here, actually,” Lee passed over the entry fee, which the clerk happily received and stored in a drawer. “I’m not sure on what the rules are for the tournament. I just knew I didn’t want to miss it.”

  “Ah, the rules? It’s not too much—you can use your weapons and any skills you know. No kill shots, of course—we have healers on standby to patch up any wounds you get between fights. No spells, but you can use self-enhancements, and that’s pretty much it,” the clerk paused, then piped up as if remembering something important. “Wait—actually, you also can’t advertise your school! You absolutely cannot use the tournament to advertise your school! Let your skills do the talking, and let others approach you if they’re interested. The advertising takes time away from the fights! Please don’t do it!”

  Something told Lee that the advertising was a pretty big problem. “You don’t have to worry about that from me—I don’t have a school of my own. Outside of learning some moves from the army, I suppose.”

  “Phew! Good to know! But, say, I do still need to sort out what bracket you’re going to be in? Do you mind showing me a demonstration of how you fight?” The clerk smiled. “Normally, we just sort people out based on their reputation and their own words… but as an outsider, it’s best that we let them demonstrate.”

  “Of course,” Lee accepted the reasoning with grace, grabbing his spear from where it was attached by his backpack.

  He demonstrated some thrusts and his footwork—it wasn’t anything graceful like what he had seen some of the others around the place do, but he can be forgiven for being less skilled than them, right?

  His spear pierced through the air cleanly and efficiently, and by the time he finished his small demonstration, some people were looking at him with barely hidden curiosity.

  “Wow! That’s some really good fundamentals,” the clerk praised. “You’re better than half the kids that join the tournament for fun. You’ll kill it at the Beginner bracket.”

  “Oh, tha—wait, the Beginner bracket?” Lee was incredulous. While he hadn’t been practicing for long(in this life), those techniques had killed soldiers before. He had used them to kill a wolf monster! Well… a wolf monster that had been distracted and too slow to dodge him. But still! Surely, that was worth something. “Am I not skilled enough for the Intermediate bracket, at least?”

  “The intermediate bracket?” The clerk raised a brow. “You’re good for your age, but you’re not that good. Don’t feel too bad. The Beginner bracket is good too! You’ll be up against some tough opponents, other people from the schools in the city. I’m sure you’ll have some fun!”

  “…” Lee accepted it with a small sigh. Of course. Well. Perhaps it was better this way? He just thought that perhaps he might be placed higher… but it seemed that it wasn’t meant to be. “Alright. Thank you, sir.”

  “No problem! If you do well enough, you might even get invited to a school! Break a leg!” The clerk paused. “Not—not literally, but, like, you know…”

  “No, sir, I know what you mean…” This clerk seems to be a bit tired… He should have a break.

  It was with that little interaction that the clerk pointed him towards the third arena. There were some people there—significantly less than the other brackets, but they all looked about his current age. It was evident that many of them had known each other, seeing as they were all either talking to each other or bragging.

  “Master Takeshi taught me his Void Fist, see, none of you are ready for it,” one boy boasted. He wore a white gi with an orange belt tied around his waist. An unarmed fighter—one that likely practiced a martial art from those relatively new lands from the northeast. “It wouldn’t be too bad if you all surrendered now.”

  “Oh please,” a girl scoffed. She wore a thick blue gambeson and likely padded pants with brown boots. A garish color combination, but one that spoke of her practicality without having to wear armor. She wore a belt, which had a short sword attached to it, with a shield strapped to her back. “We all know Master Takeshi is a grumpy old man. There’s no way he’d teach that technique to you.”

  “W-well—“

  “Not to mention,” another boy piped up. This one was holding a thick studded club, wearing a simple outfit of a black shirt, pants, and boots. “You haven’t even mastered that… what technique was it, the Lightning Palm?”

  “I’ve totally mastered that,” the unarmed fighter bluffed. “Definitely mastered it. Totally.”

  “Yeah, right,” the girl laughed. “You’ve definitely convinced me.”

  “Well—” the boy stopped his bluffing with a laugh. “At least I’m better than that street urchin that Master Takeshi picked up. Gods, I don’t even know why the master took him in. He even gave him a name!” He shook his head. “Gods, I respect the master, but really! A random kid like that!”

  “It’s not really a high bar to be better than a street urchin, though,” the boy with the club drawled. “But whatever makes you feel better.”

  “Oh, just you wait, I’ll surprise you for sure—”

  Lee tuned out their spirited discussion as he walked over to a bench, placing down his backpack on top of it as he took out some coins to purchase some water. It was a bit unnerving to see that many of the people here were most definitely better than him not just in martial prowess, but also in enhancement efficiency. The clerk was right. Damn it. I overestimated myself.

  Martial prowess was something that he had somewhat expected a lot of people to be better than him. Being a regular line infantry soldier didn’t exactly cultivate individual combat skill, and he was aware of this. He had thought that perhaps, he may have the edge in body enhancements. He has been doing this over the course of two lives, after all, surely, he can at least edge out with that alone?

  However, his notion was shattered with just a quick glance around his fellow competitors, especially those three he had just been observing. They did not have a lot of mana, much like him, but they were much more efficient in their usage with it. It was easy to tell, when they moved quicker, snappier, and covered more distance with each stride. It was almost surreal to see them move with such grace and speed.

  In comparison, he was fast, but not graceful. He couldn’t completely control his speed, especially if he had to rush an enhancement in the event of danger. Strength would be much the same. He was quick to do temporary powerful enhancements, but when that left him with a massive loss in mana to circulate in return? It wasn’t practical. Not against them.

  These kids… no, these fighters will probably beat me completely. It was utterly insane to see. He thought he had understood how to fight. He thought he understood body enhancements—thought he knew combat in and out just because he was a soldier. Had he just been arrogant?

  Evidently, the answer was yes. Either way, this would prove a learning experience for him, even if he lost.

  Hopefully, I last long enough to make an impression, at least…

  He heaved a shaky sigh as he sat on a bench. His hand was pale with how tight he was gripping his spear’s handle as he thought up ways of how to approach the fights.

  One-on-one fights. Multiple rounds. He couldn’t afford to burn all his mana in one match—it wasn’t sustainable.

  He had to treat it as a test of both endurance and skill. He must find a way to quickly eliminate his enemies while expending the least amount of mana possible, and to hide how quickly he can ‘boost’ his physical parameters beyond the general enhancement. While he wasn’t sure if the other martial artists could do it as quick as him, it would serve as a nasty surprise regardless, especially if they weren’t aware he could do it.

  Endurance and surprise will be key for a chance to place higher than last in this tournament. Thankfully, while there were plenty of strong opponents, there also seemed to be a lot of normal civilians who seemed to have just joined for the experience in the crowd of competitors as well. Though, normal civilians—in the context of Morganburg—would likely still be better than an average untrained civilian.

  Okay. I can do this. I can place decently enough, at least. I won’t get a reward, but surely, I’ll be able to catch the eye of a school, right?

  A spear school, hopefully, but at this point, he’d accept any school that would be willing to teach him. It’s clear that he’s lacking in some foundational skills that he would need as a fighter, and that he has much to learn. The body enhancements are one thing, but he lacked the grace and casual skill that the other fighters displayed.

  He felt underdressed, like a farmer showing up to a ball in his work clothes.

  Focus. He can’t afford to lose his nerve now. Even if it was practically impossible to win the tournament, his end goal wasn’t total victory anyway. Just to get noticed.

  This plan relies on luck way too much. The thought popped up in his head. There’s no guarantee a master would be looking at us. Especially when these three kids are much more prodigal than even some soldiers in the army. Even with luck, this plan is doomed to fail.

  Focus.

  He can’t afford to think that way. He must—

  “Oh, what the hell are you doing here, runt?” It was the boy with the orange belt that said this.

  His voice was loud and clear over the sound of the crowd’s own conversations. They passed around the trio that had surrounded a much smaller kid, ignoring the conversation. But Lee, having been essentially half-focusing on them simply because he recognized their skill, had turned to watch what they were doing.

  The smaller kid was wearing a white gi similar to the one with the orange belt—though he had a white belt instead. He had black, unkempt hair that kept being blown around by the breeze. Lee wasn’t quite sure what his deal was—but he seemed to be a bit unconfident. He was shrinking back from the three people crowding around him.

  “I—I’m just here for the tournament,” the boy mumbled. “Master Takeshi said that it would be good for me…”

  “Really?” The girl eyed the small boy. From what Lee could see, he didn’t appear to have any internal enhancement going on, which is a problem, as it seemed he wasn’t too fit either. He wasn’t sure why his master had supposedly told him to join the tournament.

  To show him how high the heavens are? I know that kind of talk is common up in the North… mainly the barbarians, but those northeast martial artists are pretty much barbarians anyway…

  “How would it be any good for you? You might be pretty decent with some stuff, but—” the boy with the club was cut off by the boy with the orange belt.

  “Masaru,” the orange belt boy said, referring to the smaller kid. Lee internally sighed in relief, finally having a name to put to the face. “You’re just gonna get your butt kicked here. The master probably just wanted you outside the dojo.”

  “I’ll do fine,” Masaru tersely replied. “Master taught me plenty of things.”

  “Really?” the orange belt expressed his doubt. “We’re talking about the same Master here, right?”

  “In any case… better make sure you can back up your words. None of the guys here will show any mercy to ya, aight?” the boy with the club shook his head. “We’re just being considerate here, you’re not ready.”

  “But the master—”

  “Sometimes, the master is wrong,” the girl gently pat him on the head. For Lee, the gesture seemed awfully condescending. “You’re hardly even trained. You will just get hurt here.”

  Masaru shook his head. “No! I can do this. I need to do this. I’m sorry, but you can’t stop me.”

  The boy walked—stormed off. The three watched him go before the boy with the orange belt snorted.

  “Well, at least I know I’m not gonna be in last place,” he shook his head. “Can’t even do some simple internal enhancements after a few months. What a joke.”

  Lee wanted to say it took him half a year of boot camp to be able to figure it out, but he held his tongue. Instead, he went over to a stall and purchased a pair of hotdogs as he walked over to where Masaru had gone—a relatively isolated portion of the place. There were only a few people around this part of the seatings, and they were plenty far away from his earlier tormenters.

  “Hey, kid,” Lee casually sat next to him. “You want a hotdog?”

  It was a strange way to come on to a kid. Especially when he was likely several years his junior. But Lee didn’t know how else to ask to give some comfort food to a brooding kid.

  The boy looked at the hotdog stick Lee was holding up near him. “… I’m sorry sir, but do I know you?”

  “I don’t think so,” Lee shrugged. “I just saw a kid get harassed and thought he might want a hotdog. Was I wrong?”

  Silence greeted his initial answer. Lee was ready for Masaru to tell him to leave him alone, as is typical for a kid his age, but he was surprised when the kid just sighed and took a hotdog, biting into it somberly.

  “… Thank you,” Masaru had said after chewing a little. “I haven’t had anyone give me food like that before.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” Lee lightly smiled. “You’re fighting in the tournament too, right? I heard your, uh…” he glanced to the side, taking a look at the trio that had returned to talking to each other in the distance. “… your friends. Now, I’m not going to badger you about it but… are you sure?”

  Masaru lightly chewed into his hotdog. It may be because of Lee’s genuine tone of asking, but the boy seemed more amenable to answering the question. “… Yeah. I’ve got to prove myself, and this tourney is the best way to do it.”

  “I see,” Lee slowly nodded. He could understand the sentiment somewhat. When he was an artificer in his second life, he had been doing much of the same, after all—creating little inventions that weren’t very useful to try and prove his worth as an artificer. This is likely the manifestation of that as a martial artist. However, he felt uncomfortable letting him fight without even the bare minimum of knowledge for combat.

  “Okay, look,” Lee turned to look at him closely. “You see… you’re lacking something most of the other competitors here have.”

  “Like what?” Masaru seemed to genuinely be confused about his sudden turn.

  “Internal enhancement,” Lee tapped the boy’s arms, making him flinch. “Your body won’t be able to keep up with the other martial artists around here. You’ll just get punched out the ring, or take too much damage. Internal enhancement—or body enhancement, whichever—is exactly what it sounds like.”

  Lee circulated mana within him as he took a deep breath. To better demonstrate, he allowed a bit of leakage to seep out of his skin to produce a visible aura. Most fighters know better than to let this happen, as it’s a classic case of mana waste, but it’s fine for demonstration purposes. “This—this is internal enhancement. It lets you be faster and be stronger. You use it to enhance your physical abilities.”

  His aura went away as he turned down his enhancement. “But for you—you’ll need it to make up for what you’re lacking. You’re a bit skinny and you don’t look all that tough, so you’ll probably have to use more mana to punch up. I’ll teach you a little bit of what I know so you can at least have a chance.”

  “…” The boy didn’t seem to know what to say, staring at Lee with wide eyes.

  “Okay, so, you can feel your mana, right? There’s some around you. Plenty inside you. All you have to do is—”

  “No, no, sir, you have the wrong idea,” Masaru stopped him, a bit flustered. “I—I know how to do internal enhancement. I just can’t use it all the time yet.”

  Lee… deflated. “Oh.” Well, shit, now I look stupid. Still, he laughed a bit awkwardly. “I—I see. I’m sorry for assuming, then… I just didn’t want to see a kid get slapped around…”

  “No—don’t worry. Thank you for trying to explain it, but… I don’t need the help,” Masaru firmly looked him in the eye. “My training is more than enough for this tournament.”

  Lee looked back, and saw nothing but pure determination. Much more than he had seen in a mirror. “… Got it. Sorry for the trouble, kiddo.”

  “It’s Masaru,” the kid thumped his chest as he grinned. “Remember it—I’ll definitely place high in this tournament.”

  Lee gave him a small smile. “Sure thing, Masaru. I’m Lee—though I doubt you’ll see me up the ranks,” Masaru’s smile faltered a bit at Lee’s own admission. “Good luck on your own fights.”

  “You too!” Masaru waved him off as Lee stood to leave. He felt a bit awkward about his presumption there and didn’t want to stay to embarrass himself any more than he already had. Of course the kid knew internal enhancement. It would be foolish to assume that the martial arts kid wouldn’t know how to do a fundamental of combat.

  Gods, I’m becoming more of a busybody the longer I stay as an adventurer, he grumbled internally. I should really just mind my own business…