Upon finally reaching the pulpit, the bishop addressed the crowd.

"Greetings, my dear guests!"

"Today I have decided to break tradition and not hold a lecture in the square, as we have a special guest visiting us. I would like to ask you to welcome the Elder of the Iron Fist Sect, Vareus Zanord."

Following the bishop's words, a tall, sturdily built man wearing blue and gray colored clothes entered the hall. The man nodded towards the tournament participants and bowed subtly towards the heads of the families.

He was followed by two people dressed in the same colors but with much cheaper fabrics that gave away their sect affiliation, but their stats were clearly lower. After a silent greeting, the elder and his companions took seats in the center of the table.

"At my request, Mr. Zanord will give a speech that will help the younger generation on their journey to the pinnacle of martial arts. But first, I would like to inspire the participants of our little tournament with my favorite story from the First Martial Emperor's biography."

[Shit! There's that story again.]

Cenn and many other young people present in the hall involuntarily rolled their eyes at the bishop's last words . Almost every major event in the town was followed by a speech from the bishop. And almost always he told the same story.

He himself said that it was his favorite story, but many of the townsfolk were convinced that it was the only one he remembered.

"Year 438 of the Great War era. The few who were able to survive the attacks of the demonic beast army took shelter on the mountainous peninsula that would later be called the Great Victory Peninsula. And among those who managed to take refuge in the last stronghold of humanity was an unassuming young man. "A little older than you. He was only 20 years old."

At these words, the old bishop leaned toward the young men, hoping to find a response in their eyes. But except for a couple of people who pretended to listen attentively to the bishop, the tournament participants didn't seem to hear what the old man was saying and only his active gesturing in their direction made them pay attention to him.

"He was not the strongest fighter, nor the most accurate archer, nor the most skillful commander. He had fought demonic beasts more than once, and was a brave fighter, but in those dark times every man was a warrior and fought to the last drop of blood. There was nothing about this simple guy that made him look like the future savior of mankind."

Cenn had heard this story dozens of times, and had read it to his mother many times, as well as many other stories from the First Martial Emperor's life story. But still, he couldn't understand why the old bishop was so obsessed with it.

"The young emperor felt helpless in the face of the enemy's countless hordes. No matter how fiercely our ancestors fought, they suffered one defeat after another. The number advantage was always on the side of demonic beasts, and in terms of strength, they were not inferior to the best human warriors.

But even in such a situation, the future emperor did not fall into despair, did not give up. He decided that he had to become stronger, by any means necessary.

And he began to look for ways to become stronger. At first, he thought the solution lay in the strength of his body. But among his brothers in arms, there were many men who were stronger, taller and tougher than he was. But almost all of them had already died fighting demonic beasts. Therefore, this idea was discarded.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Next, he turned his gaze to weapons. Hoping to increase his strength with better weapons. But the peninsula where the remnants of humanity had taken refuge did not abound in the resources he needed. All he could find were the simplest of resources and iron ore. In addition, in those days, there were no more skillful weapon makers left to be found among the people. So that path too was denied.

Finally, our savior turned to what people called witchcraft. In those days, witchcraft was a mystical art. Few mastered it. But those who did were only capable of performing the simplest of elemental qi attacks."

The old man stopped talking and gestured to the servant standing next to him. Immediately, a glass of wine was in his hand. In a couple of gulps, the Bishop drained it and returned it to the servant.

And the most important thing is that in the camp where the First Martial Emperor lived, the future Great Mentor Norgat also lived. And so a simple young man came to ask the powerful shaman Norgat to teach him witchcraft. I do not know what the great mentor saw in this young man, who became his disciple the same day, but one thing we know for sure - he was not mistaken.

After only half a year, he had not only learned everything his teacher could give him, but he had surpassed him in spellcasting skills."

By now the people at the table were enthusiastically gorging themselves on food and liquor, and the young men sitting on the floor were getting bored, some even falling asleep. But the bishop had no plans to stop. His eyes were burning and feverish notes could be heard in his voice.

However, Cenn was still a little surprised. Today the bishop had allowed himself the liberty to stray from the canonical text. Thus, he had never heard of the First Martial Emperor looking for an outlet in physical strength or weapons. There was nothing about it in the scriptures. So Cenn had enough reason to doubt the old man's sobriety.

"Having reached the peak of development in the witchcraft of the time the future emperor was disappointed. Even though he had become much stronger, it wasn't enough to turn the tide of the war.

For mankind to have a chance to win the war, it was necessary for all people to become shamans not inferior to him in strength. But that wasn't possible. Witchcraft was capricious. Only one in a thousand could succeed in it.

And then the future emperor, with the support of a great mentor, began to experiment with shamanic spells. The fruit of these experiments was the Sigil of Fire. The first Sigil ever created by man. That is why every Battle Emperor temple has an altar of fire, the Fire we inherited from the Emperor. It is a symbol of our gratitude to all those who fought for the future of humanity."

Finishing the sentence the old man held out his hand towards a huge brazier suspended from the ceiling, a bright golden flame burned in the center of the bowl.

"The first sigil had immense power, and most importantly could be used by almost anyone.

At last, there was hope for mankind. But the Emperor realized that the Sigil alone would not be enough. And then he went to the mountains and immersed himself in meditation to find answers to his questions. The result of this meditation was the Martial Emperor cultivation system we all know.

81 sigils, 9 prismatic seals, and qi gathering technique.

Created by one person, they have empowered thousands, and saved the lives of millions."

The old man's words became quieter, his gaze was staring into the void, and the fervor with which he began his story had finally dried up.

"Remember, the First Martial Emperor became a legend not because he was a brave fighter and a valiant leader. But because he was a creator who could change the course of history and save humanity. By undoubtedly discarding the past and creating something completely new."

[He's talking nonsense again...]

Cenn was puzzled by the bishop's last words. The First Martial Emperor had always appeared in his mind as a fierce warrior who had single-handedly destroyed millions of demonic beasts. But in Bishop's words, he appeared as a scholar and seeker of truth.

"Alright, enough speeches for today, I think it's time to turn the floor over to our guest of honor." The old man ignoring the audience came out from behind the pulpit and went to his seat in the center of the table.