It was past noon, and the sun was gradually setting in the western sky.
Zhou Ming and Oda Heizo walked through the imperial palace, a palace maid leading the way.
Palace maids passed by occasionally, each with light steps, walking without speaking. In such a vast palace, the two could only hear their own footsteps, making it feel incredibly empty and quiet.
Entering one palace after another, they finally arrived at the entrance of a bed-chamber, guided by the palace maid.
Standing at the door was a samurai nearing thirty. As the two approached, the samurai's eyes scanned them back and forth, his gaze as sharp as a sieve, scrutinizing them thoroughly.
Then, with a stern face, the samurai pushed open the door and walked in.
After him was the palace maid who had brought Zhou Ming and Oda Heizo there, and then Zhou Ming and Oda Heizo themselves.
"That samurai is a master," Zhou Ming said softly, thoughtfully.
"That's the Lord's personal guard, Hirakawa Masamasa. He's the Lord's most trusted person. Hori-koshi So, hmph, he's nothing compared to him!"
Oda Heizo explained in a low voice beside him.
"A personal guard for Nohara Momonosuke? No wonder his strength is impressive," Zhou Ming nodded.
As the two entered the bed-chamber, they saw a large bed draped with curtains, and palace maids moving in and out through the curtains.
Behind the heavy layers of curtains, a hunched figure could be vaguely seen.
"Your Majesty, Lord Oda has arrived, and the samurai named Zhou Ming has also arrived," Hirakawa Masamasa said loudly, bowing his head at the foot of the bed.
"Oh? They've come? Good, help me up so I can see them."
The curtains were drawn back one by one, and the hunched figure gradually became clearer, finally standing fully before Zhou Ming.
It was an old man, as small as a monkey, as gaunt as a skeleton, with sparse hair on his head, only a few wisps remaining in the middle. His entire body exuded an unshakeable Death Qi.
He looked no different from an ordinary old man on the verge of death. If one had only heard the legends of Nohara Momonosuke's career and then saw him in this state, they would likely be greatly disappointed, unable to believe that the king who once conquered north and south had now become like this.
"My Lord!" Oda Heizo knelt to the ground with a thud, tears streaming down his face: "It's only been a few months, how have you become like this? Oda is constantly concerned for you, always worrying about you!"
"Alas, Oda wishes he could bear the Lord's pain himself right now, to exchange his own life for the Lord's health!"
Zhou Ming: "..."
Good heavens, Oda Heizo, I didn't expect a straightforward-looking fellow like you to be such a flatterer!
"How dare you! Why do you not kneel in the presence of His Majesty!" Seeing Zhou Ming standing motionless, a palace maid's eyebrows shot up, and she sharply rebuked him.
Zhou Ming merely glanced at her, then looked away, his gaze falling instead on Hirakawa Masamasa.
This taciturn, cold samurai was the one he had been watching all along.
He was a powerful samurai; everyone else in the room combined posed less of a threat than him.
The moment Zhou Ming's gaze locked onto him, a feeling of extreme danger arose in Hirakawa Masamasa's heart. His right hand instantly gripped the hilt of his blade, his nerves taut, almost unable to resist drawing his blade.
"Enough," Nohara Momonosuke's aged voice rang out.
"Hirakawa-kun, no need to be nervous. Zhou-kun is not an evildoer."
Even though the sense of danger he felt from Zhou Ming had not diminished in the slightest, Hirakawa Masamasa still unhesitatingly released his grip on his blade, took two steps back, and bowed his head slightly.
'He's really obedient,' Zhou Ming thought with a slight hint of disappointment, withdrawing his gaze from Hirakawa Masamasa.
"Zhou Ming, the samurai who slew Hori-koshi So... come here, let me get a good look at you."
Nohara Momonosuke struggled to prop himself up, weakly beckoning to Zhou Ming.
Zhou Ming hesitated for a moment, didn't refuse, and took a few steps to stand before the large bed.
The distance between them was less than five steps.
A thought suddenly flashed through Zhou Ming's mind: What if he killed Nohara Momonosuke right here?
At such a short distance, Zhou Ming was confident that if he made a move, no one could stop him from eliminating Nohara Momonosuke.
No, it's not time yet... Zhou Ming forcefully suppressed this thought and looked at Nohara Momonosuke.
The old man opposite him, on the verge of death, so weak he needed palace maids to support his back to sit up, his eyes dim and lifeless, as if he would breathe his last any moment, now struggled to pry open his drooping eyelids, widening his eyes to carefully and earnestly scrutinize Zhou Ming from head to toe.
"Good, hehe, good indeed."
As he watched, Nohara Momonosuke smiled with satisfaction, his wrinkled old face crinkling into a ball, like a blooming chrysanthemum. An ordinary person might be startled at first glance.
"Oda-kun, you've taken in a very fine samurai."
Nohara Momonosuke's gaze turned to Oda Heizo. Oda Heizo quickly bowed his head, utterly respectful, showing no trace of his dignity as a Daimyo.
"Hehe, good indeed," Nohara Momonosuke mumbled, his gaze returning to Zhou Ming.
"Your blade technique hasn't reached its Bottleneck yet, it's still in its ascending phase. Before The World's Greatest Warrior Tournament begins, you still have greater room for improvement."
"During this time, let Hirakawa-kun spar with you. Among the samurai by my side, there is no one stronger than him."
Hirakawa Masamasa's body trembled slightly, he didn't look up, and said in a deep voice: "Hai yi!"
"Alright, I'm tired now," Nohara Momonosuke slowly lay back down, his voice filled with deep weariness.
"That's all for today. In a few days, once all the Daimyo have arrived, I will host a banquet in the palace to mark the opening of The World's Greatest Warrior Tournament."
"Zhou-kun, at that time, go and fight. Go and earn your honor, and provide the most spectacular performance for me..."
...A strange, anticlimactic summons thus ended peacefully.
At the palace gate, Hirakawa Masamasa said coldly: "Zhou-kun, I'll come find you tomorrow at eight in the morning."
"I can't get up at eight. Find me at three in the afternoon."
...Hirakawa Masamasa fell silent for a moment, then said coldly: "Zhou-kun, I am to spar with you; this is His Majesty's command. Do you intend to defy a royal order?"
Zhou Ming scoffed, unconcerned: "Nohara Momonosuke only ordered you to be my sparring partner, but he didn't set a time. When we train depends on my mood. Go back and wait for my message yourself!"
"Baka!"
Hirakawa Masamasa's anger flared, and he immediately drew his blade, pointing it at Zhou Ming.
"You dare to address His Majesty by name? Do you intend to rebel!"
"That makes things simpler," Zhou Ming sneered, pulling out his adamantium alloy blade from his Flower Bud Gu.
"Late practice is worse than early practice. If I kill you now, then our training will be complete."
"Wait, wait a minute!" Seeing the atmosphere become tense, with the two about to draw blood, Oda Heizo quickly intervened.
He dared not stand between them, fearing they might go mad and cut him down without a second thought. He retreated a few more steps, standing a full ten paces away from them, and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"You two are both highly skilled samurai; you should be sparring and exchanging techniques, becoming confidants. Why resort to drawing blades like this?"
"Besides, this is the entrance to the imperial palace; it's not a good place for a duel!"
"How about I host? We find a place to have a couple of drinks, what do you say?"
Zhou Ming's lawless nature made Oda Heizo realize that he could never subjugate him for his own use. He stopped trying in that direction, completely gave up, and his attitude towards Zhou Ming changed significantly from the beginning.
He had resigned himself now, deciding to simply give up and cling to Zhou Ming's coattails. What was the point of putting on airs as a Daimyo for anyone to see? What if he angered this menace, Zhou Ming, and he got himself cut down with a single blade?
Furthermore, Hirakawa Masamasa was Nohara Momonosuke's personal guard. Although he held no official rank on the surface, everyone understood the extent of his actual influence.
Facing these two, Oda Heizo couldn't possibly use his status to pressure them. He could only speak softly and gently, trying to persuade them.
"No need!" Hirakawa Masamasa sheathed his blade, looking coldly at Zhou Ming.
"I will find you tomorrow. You and I will fight."
With that, he turned and left.
"Then I'll let you live one more day," Zhou Ming retorted with a cold sneer, "Go cry to your mother tonight; tomorrow, you won't have that chance anymore."