The next two days were uneventful. Adrian's daily routine consisted of supervising the construction crews and ensuring they followed his blueprints to the letter.
The hired contractors were clearly puzzled. Why did this esteemed master of traditional arts demand that the entire mountain be surrounded by reinforced concrete? It was completely illogical.
Wasn't this supposed to be a "tourist memorial park"? Logically, wouldn't a simple wire fence suffice to mark the boundaries?
However, Adrian flatly rejected their concerns.
In this day and age, building a concrete wall didn't cost much more than fencing, but the functional difference was life and death. A wire fence would be useless against a horde of zombies; a concrete wall was a barrier.
He also instructed them to use excavators to dig a moat around the perimeter of the wall—four meters wide and five meters deep. Since Tokonosu City was a coastal town with high water tables, once the channels were connected, the moat would fill, providing a second layer of defense.
The construction bosses found his demands incomprehensible, but for the sake of the generous paychecks, no one bothered to argue.
First, Masao Busujima was a titan in Tokonosu City. No one dared to question the motives of a man with his connections.
Second, the local Mayor had personally hired them. Legally, the paperwork was ironclad.
Besides, in this era, even if a rich eccentric wanted to build something that looked suspiciously like a warlord's fortress, people just shrugged. Surely he wasn't planning a rebellion, right?
With the power of money, the renovation of Mount Yokomizo proceeded at breakneck speed. In peacetime, as long as you were willing to burn cash, any architectural marvel could be raised from the dirt in days. With the backing of the government and the Busujima name, local gangs didn't dare cause trouble.
The foundation for the outer wall was completed in just three days.
After inspecting the site and finding no flaws, Adrian nodded with satisfaction. He climbed into his car and returned to the Busujima estate.
Today was the big day: Kotonoha Katsura's apprenticeship ceremony.
As the number one swordsman in Japan, his every move rippled through the martial arts world. Even though he had instructed the staff to keep the affair simple, the dojo was bustling with activity.
A group of elderly men—relics of the martial arts world—had shown up uninvited. They crowded the hall, making it unclear whether Adrian was taking a disciple or if they were holding a retirement home reunion.
Although Adrian found these old fossils incredibly tedious, their titles were undeniable. Grandmasters, Association Presidents, Keepers of the Way. Even the original Masao Busujima would have had to tread carefully around them.
Admittedly, in a real fight, Adrian could probably slaughter three or four of them at once. This wasn't a Wuxia novel where age equaled power; these were just old men with slowing reflexes. But in the world of politics, face was everything.
"Good morning, Masters!"
Adrian, dressed in his formal ceremonial hakama, walked into the reception room and greeted the group with a cheerful, practiced smile.
"Masao, you sly fox! Secretly taking on another Inner Disciple? It seems you've found another rough diamond!"
"You didn't even notify me about such a big event, Masao! Do you have no respect for me, the President of the Kendo Association?"
The group of old men immediately started teasing and chiding him. Adrian could only hold his tea and chat idly, playing the role of the humble junior.
There were other guests outside, but given their lower status, he had simply sent Saeko to receive them. He was stuck here, feeling the unique sorrow of middle-aged social obligations.
"Did you see the girl? The mother... she's really something."
Bored out of his mind, Adrian pricked up his ears, tuning into a whispered conversation in the corner.
Surprisingly, he heard something interesting.
Although these old guys were outwardly respectable masters of the "Way of the Sword," in reality... how many powerful men weren't rotten to the core?
Two elderly masters were chatting in the corner, assuming the noise of the room masked their voices.
"I've been with countless women in my time, but that is the first time I've seen such... magnificent breasts. If I could just get my hands on them, knead them once... I could die happy."
"Do you think Masao has his eye on that vixen's assets? Otherwise, why would he suddenly take the daughter as a disciple?"
"Heh, you don't understand. Although the girl was wearing training clothes, her potential is obvious. She has the framework. With proper 'training,' she might even surpass her mother."
"So Masao's intentions aren't as pure as they seem! No wonder he didn't send us invitations. He wants to keep the goods for himself!"
"Maybe he's planning to harvest both the flower and the fruit! Ah, it's a pity I'm so old... otherwise, I'd want a taste too."
The two old men chuckled lecherously.
Adrian, sipping his tea nearby, nearly choked.
'Is my plan really that obvious?'
"The auspicious time has arrived! Open the Main Gate!"
With a booming shout from the Master of Ceremonies outside, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The old men who had been discussing breast sizes and sexual conquests straightened their spines. Their faces became stern, imposing, and filled with the solemn dignity of martial artists.
It seemed that hypocrisy was a mandatory course for becoming a Master.
As the heavy wooden gates creaked open, Kotonoha Katsura, dressed in a pristine white martial arts uniform, slowly walked in.
Her face showed a mixture of shyness and terror. It was clear the young girl was completely unprepared for the weight of becoming Masao Busujima's Inner Disciple.
Three days ago, when she left the dojo, all Kotonoha had been thinking about was rushing home to change her soiled underwear. She hadn't dared to dream of returning.
Then, that evening, her mother had come to her, beaming with joy, and told her that Master Busujima had agreed to accept her.
Her mother had rambled on about how rare the opportunity was, how it would secure their future, and how she must cherish the Master's favor.
But Kotonoha wasn't naive.
She remembered the way the Master's fingers had explored her body. She knew that compared to her mediocre talent in swordsmanship, the Master was far more interested in... other things.
....
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