At the long dining table, Gusion eyed the sumptuous dinner, eager to dig in. He'd already used his spatial appraisal skill—no poison.
The Kure clan's dining hall was huge. Each table was packed with people, and their conversations were nothing like a normal family dinner.
Topics like "My new XX-brand knife is great," "That bodyguard was tough, took me ages to kill him," and "Hey, did you see the new XX-model gun from XX Arms? Great rate of fire and accuracy"—all were common.
Only Gusion's table was dead silent. It was filled with Kure clan core members. Karura sat opposite Gusion, hands on her cheeks, eyes sparkling at him.
At the head sat clan leader Erioh, his face dark, glaring at Gusion.
After a long while, Erioh forced a stiff smile. "Honored guest, please try our local cuisine."
With that, everyone looked to Gusion. Only after he began eating could the others start.
Gusion didn't hesitate. He grabbed a tempura and ate. "Your chef's skills are amazing..."
He raised a cup of sake in a toast. "Thank you for your generous hospitality."
Erioh's face softened as he returned the toast. "Just a home-cooked meal. As long as you enjoy it."
With the ice broken, people began to eat, though the atmosphere was still tense. Erioh and Gusion kept silent, making others hesitant to speak.
Eventually, Erioh spoke first. "You've come a long way for martial arts exchange. Surely, fighting one of our strongmen isn't your only goal?"
He was probing Gusion's true intentions. Originally, he wanted to keep Gusion around to obtain his superior seed for the clan's bloodline.
But when his beloved great-granddaughter confessed she was in love, he couldn't handle it.
Looking at Gusion's handsome, masculine face, he only grew more annoyed.
Karura was just a high-schooler! How dare you touch her, you animal! No, I have to send him away before he corrupts my precious girl.
Karura must just be infatuated. She'll forget him soon enough.
"Yes, since you ask, I'll be direct."
Gusion put down his chopsticks and met Erioh's eyes. "I want to learn the Kure clan's secret technique—Removal."
At those words, not only did his table go quiet, but every other table fell silent too.
Erioh's eyes narrowed. "Oh? Do you know Removal is a secret passed down for thousands of years? Since you say you've dealt with the Wu clan before, you must know we never teach it to outsiders."
"Since this is a martial exchange, I wouldn't learn for free. I'll give the Kure clan a powerful secret technique in return, and I promise not to pass Removal on to others."
Gusion explained. He didn't expect the Kure clan to give up Removal easily, but he had his bargaining chip.
"What technique could compare to Removal? You jest, Mr. Gusion."
Erioh's tone softened, and he reverted to a polite address.
Gusion raised his fist, which became shrouded in gray-black. "With your eye, you can surely see the power of this skill. At its peak, not even bullets or shells can harm you."
Yes, he planned to trade the training method for Armament Haki.
He'd used the item that let him learn it, but he now understood the principles well enough to teach it.
Of course, to master Armament Haki from scratch required great talent—in this world, maybe only a handful of Kure clan members could learn it.
He would write down the training method for them to study. Whether they succeeded was up to them.
"If it's that skill, it's indeed comparable to Removal..."
Erioh pondered. He could see the power of Gusion's technique. If the Kure clan could master it, combined with Removal, their strength would soar.
He found Gusion's offer reasonable. "...The Kure clan can teach you Removal, but besides exchanging techniques, you must also leave your seed."
Gusion thought: as expected.
He wasn't without desire, but his master's classical values had taught him to take responsibility for such things, so he wasn't about to fool around. That demand from the Kure clan put him in a tough spot.
At that moment, Karura cried out in excitement. "Grandpa, you're the best! Gusion-sama, let's have babies!"
Erioh's face immediately turned black, his shriveled skin cracking like old tree bark.
His expression shifted rapidly as he realized he'd made a mistake. Finally, he snorted, "Forget it. The second condition is canceled. We'll just exchange skills."
Gusion hadn't expected such a twist. "This old man dotes on his great-granddaughter..."
Looking at the noisy Karura, he suddenly found her kind of cute.
Amid the awkward atmosphere, everyone finished dinner. Except for Gusion, no one else ate much, clearly distracted.
"Mr. Gusion, I'll show you to your room."
Fusui again led the way. Karura had already been taken away by her great-grandfather.
Now Erioh guarded against Gusion like a wolf. He'd thought Gusion was sensible for rejecting Karura, but then Gusion mentioned her at the table, which made him even more vigilant.
"We have fresh bedding, and clean clothes are in the wardrobe. If you need anything, please ask."
Fusui knelt outside the guest room like a traditional innkeeper.
"It's great, thank you."
Gusion wasn't picky. After his master died, he'd slept in cardboard boxes on the street.
Before closing the door, Fusui added: "And, although you said you wanted to experience our assassination arts, the clan leader has ordered that no one will disturb you tonight. You can rest well."
With that, she closed the sliding door and walked to her room for the night.
Gusion wasn't surprised. The clan leader wanted everyone to be in top shape for tomorrow's skill exchange—tonight wasn't the time for games.
He tidied up and lay down to rest, the first real sleep since arriving in this world.
…
The night passed peacefully. The morning birdsong and the sound of bamboo in the courtyard woke Gusion.
He hadn't slept deeply—his senses remained half-awake, ready to draw his sword at the slightest disturbance.
After washing up, he sat in the corridor, browsing the public chat.
After the initial excitement and exchange of info among the explorers, the chat had quieted—everyone had their tasks.
Most likely, many needed to enter the Kengan Annihilation Tournament, so everyone was busy securing their spots, not chatting.
But this morning, a bombshell news item set the chat ablaze:
[Tokita Ohma—dead.]