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Mikel smelled trouble even before he saw it with his own eyes.

He woke up today feeling a creeping dread on his chest. And as a martial artist who had been in many life-and-death situations, he had grown to trust his instincts over time.

That’s why he’s somewhat prepared for what’s about to come. He would’ve avoided it if he could, but he knew he couldn’t run away from this, so he stood his ground and prepared for the worse.

His instincts were proven right when somebody came bursting through the door telling him that the people of the White Haven Clan were here for business matters.

He met them at the gates of the compound. And when he saw five adults anda group of youngsters, Mikel immediately understood what they came here for.

Truthfully, he could’ve chased them away.

He’s well within his rights to do so. He could definitely refuse to participate in this bullshit and go on about his day.

However, doing that will prove that his clan was wrong about their shared history. And his reputation and prestige as the current clan leader won’t have that.

Regardless of how the Banished Arms Clan were doing under his lead, he refused to yield in their clan history. Sure, it’s not all pretty and glorious, but such is history. And the Banished Arms Clan, although cursed, was not a clan of liars and hypocrites like the White Haven Clan.

That’s why he couldn’t back down. He had to let them in and be generous. Even if he knew that they were here to cause trouble, he had to let them in.

Even if the youth of his clan ends up losing, it doesn’t matter. He’d just use this as a motivational tool for them to train harder. What he could not accept was retreating in a manner that admits that their history was wrong.

He’d lose all the reputation, prestige, and approval he had if he had done that.

On the surface, the five elders of the White Haven Clan said that they’re here to commission potions from the clan. They even placed a large order, something that would keep potion makers of the clan busy for a while and would pay decently...if the White Haven Clan actually pays for it.

But their real purpose was soon revealed.

During their discussion, some of the elders reminisced about the old alliance the two clans had. Then, they began praising the youngsters of the clan while also uplifting their own.

When they finished introducing each one of their juniors, that’s when Mikel saw their eyes shine and their fangs bare; they ’humbly’ asked if Mikel would be interested in having a short sparring session between the youngsters before they finalized the order.

They pushed Mikel to a corner, essentially forcing him to accept.

Mikel had seen this coming, though. And he calmly agreed, which definitely perturbed them a bit since it seems that they were expecting him to show some reaction at the very least. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

But Mikel was no push-over. He’s not as reckless and thoughtless as he was back in his youth. They’re dealing with an experienced and overall decent clan leader here. And any clan leader worth their salt could’ve easily predicted this all.

And so, to the training hall they went.

Just as well, some people were already there.

Since he had seen this coming, Mikel had one of the elders inform some of the promising youth of the clan to gather at the training hall for a potential impromptu sparring session.

And since everybody in the clan had been made aware of their visitors this time, they responded.

Truthfully, Mikel didn’t expect much from the youth of his own clan. He knew their situation better than everyone else. He knew the disadvantages of the clan, especially against fellow clans that had as long of a history as they did.

At first, everything was going well. The youth of the clan used the Pain Demon Art 1.0 to deal with their foes, and they managed to take some of them down. It wasn’t a winning streak, of course, but it’s more than enough.

The change happened when a child named Marcel stepped up to the stage. He’s someone from the White Haven Clan and held a long staff as his weapon. He had this cocky smirk on his face, and his physique was definitely a cut above the norm.

Anybody with well-functioning eyes could see that this one was one of the prodigies. And the real challenge starts with him.

Marcel challenged someone with his fingers, as if he disdained to even speak to them.

This riled up the youth of the clan, so the one he invited to go up jumped eagerly on the arena.

Only to be whacked into tears about a minute later.

Yeah, Mikel knew that that was going to happen.

The moment he saw Marcel holding a long staff as his weapon, he knew that this kid was already way ahead of his peers. He, and most likely the other prodigies that came with this group, are well trained in the ’White Haven Art’—the core inheritance of the White Haven Clan.

It’s a martial art that increases the purity of one’s chakra and volume. Long-term practice causes their chakra to develop the ’purifying’ attribute that purifies the chakra of their surroundings and their enemies, forcing them to use more.

The combat part relies on a long staff for use. They essentially pump a lot of chakra behind their attacks to make it more damaging and painful.

It’s a rather nasty combo, to be fair. And since the White Haven Clan doesn’t have the same restrictions as the Banished Arms Clan, they could pursue the ’Path of Arms’ without any complications. And that just makes them stronger.

This was the inherent disadvantage of the Banished Arms Clan. One that not even Mikel could solve. That’s why he never entertained high hopes to begin with.

And seeing Marcel plowing through the challengers, barely breaking a sweat in the process, Mikel thought that he better prepare a large batch of potions for the White Haven Clan for free.

That would be the price of their loss, after all.

But at least they wouldn’t be called liars; that makes it better...right?

"Is there anybody else? I’m honestly getting bored here." Marcel’s cocky and disdainful voice echoed through the training hall.

It made the faces of the Banished Arms youth ugly. They clenched their fists and gritted their teeth, feeling humiliation pouring down on them.

"I’ll fight you."

That’s when Ren’s voice cut through the crowd.

His distant cousins looked at him in concern. They were worried, of course. They’ve seen Ren here before, and although they’re not close to him, they know that he saw what happened to others, so they’re worried that the same thing will happen to him.

But Ren was blind to their concerns.

He could’ve gone up earlier and saved some of his distant cousins from the embarrassment. But he was observing and secretly learning the White Have art.

Now that he had seen enough, obviously, it was his turn to make a move.

Ren acted indifferently even in the face of Marcel’s barely disguised mockery and disdain. Marcel didn’t even bother going in a stance; his body language screamed that he was not treating Ren seriously, and the other prodigies of his clan felt the same.

"Ready? Fight!"

Almost lazily, Marcel charged forward with his staff stretched out. He poked Ren with a force enough to break bones.

The people behind Ren gasped and told him to watch out, but Ren was strangely still.

They thought that he was being suicidal. In a fight, stillness is death. Chakra needs motion to start generation, so him standing still like this almost means that he has given up.

That’s why they were surprised when Ren, at the very last moment, merely ducked his head forward to avoid the swing. Then, he took a couple of steps closer to Marcel as if he were just approaching him harmlessly.

Marcel clicked his tongue in annoyance. He adjusted his grip and tried to whack Ren with his stick again, but to his surprise, he felt a strong jolt to his hand.

Ren slapped his stick away like he was swatting a fly. Apparently, that slap had enough force to repel the force Marcel used in his strike. But it was done so casually, though.

And Ren did not stop his advance. He was still approaching Marcel slowly as if he were just leisurely walking in his backyard.

Marcel was shaken. He retreated and adjusted his hold on his staff. He mobilized more chakra and even used his footwork this time, but soon he discovered that he was up against a very strange foe.

Because no matter how fast he struck, he always missed Ren just barely. And no matter how much distance he tried to put between him and Ren, he’s always nearby, sticking to him like he’s glued.

Marcel felt stifled, and as the fight went on, it became impossible for him to hide it.

But just as he was about to get desperate, he felt a strong force sinking to his stomach, enough to make him drop his staff and collapse to the floor, heaving air like it just got stolen from him.

Meanwhile, on the stands, Mikel’s eyes were shining.