Idle Tycoon System - Chapter 417: The Dojo [1]

Chapter 417: The Dojo [1]

Noah decided to make his way to visit Master Tanaka. Ever since he had won the championship months ago, Noah hadn’t visited his dojo master—the man who had taught him some fundamentals of swordsmanship that had eventually evolved into his current master-level capabilities through other means.

He’d been busy with so many things in the other world, fighting monsters and nobles, building his business empire, and dealing with the constant difficulties that always emerged both in magical kingdoms and back on Earth.

“I wonder how well everyone is doing,” he muttered with a genuine smile as he accelerated in his GTR toward the familiar dojo location. It would be good to see Master Tanaka again, maybe spar with some of the other students, reconnect with that part of his life that felt increasingly distant.

VROOM! VROOM!

Pop! Pop!

The engine roared with aggressive power, the exhaust creating sharp pops that turned heads as Noah speed-shifted through gears. He left other vehicles in the dust and awe, the GTR’s performance drawing appreciative stares from car enthusiasts and annoyed glares from those who thought he was driving too recklessly.

He pulled up at the dojo and parked in the familiar lot, memories flooding back of all the hours he’d spent here training, sweating, pushing his limits when he first received the system.

But something was wrong.

The door was surprisingly closed, something Noah had never encountered before during normal training hours. Master Tanaka’s dojo always kept the front entrance open during the day, welcoming students and visitors with the traditional openness that characterised Japanese martial arts schools.

The weather wasn’t cold or anything that would justify keeping it shut, either, which made Noah frown subtly with growing concern.

Maybe I came during renovation time? He thought, trying to rationalise the oddity as he approached the entrance.

He pulled the door open. It wasn’t locked, just closed—which was almost more concerning than finding it secured. If renovations were happening, surely the door would be locked. If the dojo were simply closed for the day, same thing.

A closed but unlocked door suggested something else entirely.

Noah stepped inside, his enhanced senses immediately going on alert. The familiar smell of the dojo, polished wood, sweat, and incense was present but overlaid with something else. Something metallic that his combat-trained instincts recognised instantly.

Blood.

Speeding down the hall with increasing tension, Noah moved silently despite his size, years of training making his footsteps naturally quiet. His hand didn’t go to a weapon; he wasn’t carrying his sword openly on Earth, but his body prepared itself for violence.

He reached the main training area and pushed open the door.

What he saw inside made his pupils dilate with shock and rage. His heart began thumping with adrenaline-fueled intensity, and his body froze for a fraction of a second as his mind processed the scene before him.

Master Tanaka, the dignified, powerful man who had taught Noah discipline and technique, hung limp in the grasp of a stranger. The assailant held Tanaka by the neck with one hand, lifting the elderly master off the ground like he weighed nothing.

Tanaka’s face was bruised and bloodied, his traditional gi torn and stained. He’d clearly been beaten severely, his breathing laboured and his body showing signs of serious injury.

The man holding him was perhaps in his forties, wearing expensive casual clothing that suggested wealth and status. His grip on Tanaka’s throat was casual, almost bored, like he was holding a bag of groceries rather than a human being.

“Where is your student…” the stranger demanded in accented English, his tone suggesting this wasn’t the first time he’d asked the question.

“…Go to hell,” Tanaka managed to rasp out with a defiant smile despite his obvious pain and the hand crushing his windpipe.

The stranger’s expression didn’t change. He simply sent a vicious backhand slap across Tanaka’s face with his free hand—the impact echoing through the dojo like a gunshot—then dropped the old master carelessly to the wooden floor.

Tanaka hit hard, groaning as his battered body absorbed another punishment.

“Useless,” the stranger muttered with contempt, turning away from his victim to look for someone who would break.

Then he paused, his head tilting slightly as if sensing something. His gaze shifted toward the entrance, where Noah stood frozen in the doorway.

Their eyes met.

The stranger’s face transformed instantly into a smile of genuine pleasure, like a predator that had just spotted its intended prey walking directly into the trap.

“Oh, there you are,” the man said with satisfaction, his smile widening. “The prodigy swordsman. The current champion, I’ve been looking for you. I thought it was going to be hard, but thankfully, you delivered yourself to me.”

Tanaka, still on the floor, managed to move his head toward the entrance. His eyes widened in disbelief and horror when he saw Noah standing there.

“Noah…” Tanaka’s voice was weak but urgent, filled with desperate warning. “Run.”

Noah stared at the man before him with rage that could barely be suppressed. As much as his strength was his safety, it was also a danger. His fury translated into life-threatening danger—He had to actively restrain himself from launching an attack that would end this stranger’s life in a fraction of a second.

He feared that if he attacked at this moment, in this emotional state, he would kill the man without mercy or hesitation.

And while part of Noah believed this bastard deserved death for what he’d done to Master Tanaka, he couldn’t allow himself that satisfaction.

His eyes swept the dojo’s interior, taking in the full scene with perception that missed nothing.

Other students were present—some looked relatively healthy, standing against the walls with expressions that ranged from fear to shame. Others looked completely broken, like Tanaka, sporting career-ending injuries and bruises that suggested they’d tried to protect their master and failed.

But worst of all, Noah could read the subtle tells in body language and eye contact that revealed an ugly truth: some of these students had clearly chosen to sell him out. Even though none knew where he lived, they had still betrayed the dojo and what it stood for.