“Well, maybe she wants her future husband to surpass her,” the same lady from before shook her head. “Girls love men who are like rocks we can cling to.”
This statement elicited chuckles from the female part of the group. All of them, despite being highborn, were practitioners, and every practitioner valued their own strength and freedom. Especially the women.
That’s why, the farther along the path of cultivation one got, the less common loving marriages were. Not the ones where people spent a couple of decades or centuries together, but the true unions, where people would go through their entire lives and face all of the challenges before them as one.
“Thank you,” Hadjar told the waitress when she put a cup and a bowl in front of him.
Handing her several copper coins, Hadjar took a simple rag bundle out of his pocket. While Azrea drank her milk, Hadjar put some special powders and herbs into the hot water to make his favorite aromatic herbal tea.
“Just look at that bastard,” the drunken young man hissed. “I’m sure he’s been saving up all his life to spend a couple of days on the second floor of this wretched tavern.”
Hadjar ignored the insult and continued to calmly drink his tea.
“He’s even dressed up like that demon of a General. Damn it. Soon enough, all the servants will be bowing to him! Someone needs to rein in that accursed Princess.”
“Well, go do it then, Ribon.”
The nobles laughed, and the young man broke a second jug. Alas, at that very moment, the pretty waitress had been leaning over to pick up the pieces of the previous one. She didn’t have time to dodge the shard that was flying right at her throat. The entire second floor froze in anticipation of the ‘accident’, but...
Hadjar put the shard that he’d caught down on his table and continued to blow on his tea.
No one had even seen him move.
They could only see that the shard that had been about to kill the waitress was now on the table in front of the vagabond.
“Hey, you!” The young man shouted. Swaying, he rose and headed for Hadjar. “Who do you think you are, bastard? Who gave you permission to touch the trash of Ribon Gorey? Even my refuse has a higher status than your rotten hands!”
Hadjar only sighed wearily in response. Apparently, he was destined to have problems with upstart noblemen. The young man stood next to Hadjar, looming over him like a menacing stone. A swaying, foul-smelling, insolent stone.
Ribon was holding a large, heavy sword.
It was hard to imagine this slender man even lifting the gigantic, 7ft long weapon. However, in the world of martial arts, one could never judge a person by their appearance.
Hadjar could wield heavy blades quite well, but preferred to use the classic ones. They were more suitable for his fighting style, which relied on speed, and the dragon’s Techniques compensated for the lack of strength.
“Do you hear me, bastard?”
The young man tried to grab the hobo’s shoulder, but failed. To the tavern’s guests, it looked like the nobleman was too drunk to catch the beggar. Only a few practitioners noticed how smoothly and easily the vagabond had dodged. These people realized that there was far more to this man than met the eye, and so they grabbed their glasses of wine and prepared to enjoy the show.
“Sir,” Hadjar said in a casual tone. “Why are you so angry? Please, do forgive my transgression. If it will help settle our differences, I am ready to treat you to any dish on the menu.”
The young man swayed drunkenly and then roared like a wounded bison.
“You? Order? For me? I’ll teach you a lesson! Know your place!”
The nobleman grabbed the hilt of his sword and tried to pull the blade out of its huge scabbard. He succeeded, but didn’t hit Hadjar, as he had already moved to the other side of the table somehow. He was still blowing on his cup as he stood aside, keeping his foot on the tip of Ribon’s scabbard. It was because of this extra weight that the nobleman lost his balance and slammed his nose into the floor.
A wave of giggles rippled across the second floor, and even the table where the nobleman’s ‘friends’ were sitting was no exception.
“Motherfucker!” Ribon growled, rising to his feet and moving his disheveled hair away from his face. “I’ll crush you, bastard! I’ll tear you apart!”
He swung his blade and a cutting wave smashed the nearest tables to bits and turned the chairs into splinters. It swept toward the hobo like a deadly gust of wind. Most of the guests were certain that the beggar would soon die, but, to their surprise, the wave didn’t even reach the edges of his clothes.
The man thrust the cup of tea forward. The wave that had come from the nobleman’s heavy sword rushed into it. As a result, the beggar, his table, the cat, and the waitress standing behind him were all uninjured.
However, the wave did destroy a good bit of the second floor, which ended up collapsing after being damaged so heavily. People screamed as the heavy pieces of wood fell on their heads. The music coming from the stage fell silent, and some of the guests took out their weapons.
At that very moment, Ribon, who had sobered up somewhat due to adrenaline, lunged at the vagabond. The lunge of a heavy blade was always a dangerous and powerful Technique. Even without any energy behind it, it was as dangerous as if a giant had thrown a huge piece of a mountain. If such a strike hit a person, all of their bones would immediately be pulverized, and their internal organs would burst like balloons.
That’s why, when the heavy blade slammed into the hobo, the guests once again presumed he was a goner. And once again, only a few of the practitioners managed to spot the same cup from before appearing between the blade and
