Path of Spirit (Disgardium Book #6): LitRPG Series by Dan Sugralinov (best free e reader .txt) 📗

“With the straw roof. And… Take my advice: whatever the old man tells you, don’t argue. He’ll chase you away or kill you.”

I walked through the ramshackle village, examining leaning houses and darkened windows. Some grubby boys who had been crafting something out of stones and sticks were so surprised to see a stranger that they abandoned their task and stared at me with interest, along with a huge pig that had been squelching away happily in a heap of refuse. But the men, seated beneath awnings and playing something that looked like chess, didn’t even notice me. Some women, on the other hand, outraged at the extortionate prices of wandering merchants, began narrowing their eyes and talking louder, taking me as the object of their ire.

My head span from the dizzying scent of smoking herbs. My feet were covered in dust and I was sure that now my face must be just as dirty as anyone else’s. The dust penetrated through my clothes and stuck to my sweaty body. It was everywhere.

Every last villager was tall and built like a knight. Even the women seemed as if born of titans or giants, but the system assured me they were human. Was this what it meant to be of the Oyama clan? No wonder he chose hand-to-hand combat. That Dzigoro could have broken through the Modus fortress wall with his fist. And now I knew why the people of the desert cowered when they heard the name Jiri.

When I reached the right house, I carefully stepped over a pile of garbage, reached the door of withered planks and knocked. Nobody replied. Just as I’d decided that Oyama must be out or still sleeping, the Grand Master emerged from the back yard. The old man looked nothing like the dessicated mummy I met in the desert during the battle between the Alliance and Shazz. He was more solid, he’d shaved off his hair and beard, he was standing straighter and his muscles had filled out, like a skeleton that had grown flesh.

“Who’re you? What do ya want?” he asked coarsely.

“My name is Scyth, Grand Master. We met in the desert when you returned from…”

“I remember,” Oyama said casually, then looked surprised: “Hey, no disguises this time, you came as you. And no plague! What a surprise!”

“Teacher…”

“No!” the old man cut me off sharply. “I’m not your teacher…”

An instant later, he was next to me and touched my chest with a finger. It happened so fast that I couldn’t do anything — my body was thrown through the air all the way out of the village and beyond. The air rushed by me for some time, then I slammed back-first into something and the air rushed out of my lungs. Equanimity activated. Tears streamed from my eyes.

Rising, I saw Oyama before me. Expecting the worst, I quickly equipped Cold-Blooded Punisher.

Studying me with his gaze, the old man shook his head:

“Too weak. Too slow. But you don’t die easy. You say Sagda taught you? Bu? How’s that old drunkard doing?”

“When we last met, he was planning to seek you out in the desert. Master Sagda has been ready to gain a new rank for a long time.”

“I doubt that. Sagda’s spirit is weak, always was weak. A strong fist is only a small part of what you need on the road of Unarmed Combat. Not as weak as…” Oyama spat. “The weak in spirit put their hopes in metal, hide behind armor and shield, bring sword and axe to bear. Mollusks in iron shells. You hide in armor too, as I see?”

“I only have the first rank of mastery, teacher…”

“I told you, I’m not your teacher!” he flared up. “Like I said, you’re weak and slow. Turn around.”

Behind me, a once mighty tree was dying in the choking embrace of thick vines, its leaves yellowing and falling, half its branches dried out.

“That is Caressing Creeper,” the old man explained. “A parasite. It wraps itself around trees and sucks out the sap, but leaves the tree just enough to stay alive. The creeper gets so strong that only the truly mighty can tear it from the trunk. Pull it off and I will take you as a student.”

The vines looked ordinary and I grabbed the closest one right away, pulled it… Didn’t budge! I tried to pull off another, again fruitlessly.

I didn’t notice when Oyama left. I was still trying to pull a vine from the tree, but they were stuck fast. I couldn’t even grab hold of the stuff properly — my fingers slipped off the metal-smooth growth. Armed with Reaper’s Scythes, I launched a series of Combos at the vines — in vain. The parasite seemed stronger than adamantite. And that was with my strength at over a thousand! Shame I’d lost those Unity bonuses…

Wait for the second temple to finish? Or… I dug through my inventory and pulled out the Grain of Transformation. Time to redistribute almost three thousand points of charisma into something more useful.

Sitting in the shade of the tree, I used the artifact and reset my stats. Too weak and too slow? I put three thousand points into strength and two into agility. I cut my luck a little to raise my endurance. Not counting Unity bonuses, my stats now looked like this:

Strength: 3000.

 

Perception: 1000.

 

Endurance: 1200.

 

Charisma: 281.

 

Intellect: 300.

 

Agility: 2000.

 

Luck: 2000.

 

Attention! It will take 24 hours to fully redistribute your stats.

 

Although unpleasantly surprised, — I’d been planning to finish my training with Oyama the same day, — I agreed. Good thing it didn’t need to regenerate my character, or I would have lost days.

The artifact disappeared and the stats in my profile began to change slowly, flowing into one another.

“It’s over for you tomorrow!” I threatened the