"What an active young man," Io said with interest as he read the received reports, then compared the dates of two scrolls: "Lord Renko Sakuro died on the sixteenth, while Jun and all his students were seen several hundred kilometers away in a completely different city on the fifteenth."

Meanwhile, following his strange habit, the young healer once again continued the practice of treating the suffering, much to Io's surprise.

The official considered himself a man who, by duty, had to communicate and work with all sorts of people. These could range from contemptible bandits to ambitious samurai.

Many of them loved money, so Shiro's eagerness to earn would not have been unusual. Yet, that was precisely the point. Shiro treated not only for money. More than once or twice, he turned away queues of wealthy clients to spend his last prana on some poor folks.

Iyo nodded to himself: 'Priority was mostly given to children.'

The official neatly rolled up the scrolls, then, standing up and walking straight along the high wall covered with holes for papers, inserted them into their designated compartment.

This room was a model of order, and besides him, no one else was allowed in. He even cleaned it himself, not trusting servants.

'And now Shiro has plenty of evidence that he had nothing to do with Lord Sakuro's death.'

Io smiled. This melancholic man rarely allowed himself such a bright display of emotion, but today was worth it.

'Well played, Shiro-kun. I'm sure, after what was heard, you understand well that it's not worth talking about.'

'I'm confident, Jun's student, that we'll have much work together. For the glory of the Sumada clan, of course.'

*****

Stas showed no sign of surprise when Mari began to report on how the mission went.

Their meeting took place in a pre-planned town. While his friends rested in one location, Ordyntsev, in another, specifically in a tavern, chatted with a girl cloaked in a mantle.

But if outwardly he was the epitome of calm, a storm was raging inside him.

'Damn Io!' the earthling was shaking with anger, 'If it weren't for you, this blasted war had every chance to end before I had to get involved in it! Yes, it would have blown up sooner or later, but during the lull, I would have been able to take my skills to a new level. Now I will have to train with a constant risk of dying.'

The earthling felt like spitting. Another reason was the girl looking at him adoringly. Ordyntsev's head began to ache when he thought about what was now going on in her imagination.

Worse still, Stanislav did not want anyone to divulge that he was responsible for the murder of one of the country's most important nobles and, incidentally, preventing peace negotiations between states.

'Maybe it's worth killing her outright to remove even the chance of disclosure?' such a thought flickered through the earthling's mind, but he dismissed it. Besides feeling sorry for the efforts spent on her, he simply could not do it for such a far-fetched reason.

After all, she was loyal to him, and the potential danger could remain hypothetical.

"Mari, return to Sumada city and continue your training. I'll let you know when I need you again."

"I look forward to your next command!" the warmaster girl bowed with excessive zeal, then left the tavern, leaving the brooding earthling in his place.

*****

"Why are there so many bandits?" Eiji complained, surveying another bandit camp. This time, unfortunately, it was scattered, which made it impossible to cover it in one strike, creating its own difficulties.

It had been the fourth month of their latest mission, and a large part of the territory of two provinces had been checked, with five bandit camps destroyed.

"Don't they understand that if they keep robbing and killing everyone around, sooner or later, the rulers of these lands will send warmasters here, and we'll cut them all down? Or a large samurai detachment will come and do the same. What's the point?"

Each of the bandit camps had about three to five dozen bandits.

If you count, their trio had cut down at least two hundred people in four months.

Terrifying numbers that became even more daunting considering the age of those who took on such responsibilities.

Of course, most of the deaths were due to various techniques. Naginata, spear, and yatagan had relatively little work to do, solely to finish off those trying to flee.

But even the relatively adult earthling felt uneasy.

"It's not that simple," Stas said, causing Mei, who had already opened her mouth, to close it in surprise.

Ordyntsev didn't intervene in their disputes often enough that this couldn't interest the proud family heiress.

Since Stas was never particularly good at getting along with teenagers, he didn't try to become their best friend. Rather, he set out to become an authority for them.

And here, he had achieved some success.

"I think we should start with the fact that the life of ordinary people, from peasants to ashigaru and craftsmen, is not as wonderful as it is commonly thought," Stas chuckled. "Someone might decide that, say, ashigaru live quite well. They are fed, clothed, and given a place to live. But the problem is that wars between countries and nobles spark constantly, and ashigaru die in them over and over. Many cannot withstand this pressure."

Stas shrugged his shoulders.

"Craftsmen and trade routes suffer from wars no less. People go bankrupt, and the only way to escape ending up in debt prison and becoming outcasts is to flee to the forests. The situation with peasants is even more frightening. Their life is so horrible that it takes only the slightest push for it to become unbearable."

Ordyntsev grimly smirked at his thoughtful companions.

"That's why bandits, robbers, or even deserters are so daring. They understand that they won't live long, so they indulge in drinking, robbing, and enjoy life to the fullest."

Ordyntsev was about to finish his improvised lecture when he remembered something.

"By the way, regarding warmasters. I don't know if you understand, but such a camp," Stas nodded downwards. They themselves were on a hillock. "For most ordinary warmasters, it means certain death. Training with Master Jun has shifted our bar of normality, so we don't see anything impossible where ordinary warmasters would die."

"Do you mean we're at the level of advanced warmasters?" Mei asked skeptically.

"Of course not," Stas waved his hand. "The ranks of warmasters are very blurry, and even fighters of the same rank can vary greatly in strength. This is especially noticeable among advanced and supreme warmasters."

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"Why?" Eiji asked with interest, causing the man to sigh heavily. He already regretted even opening his mouth.

What he told his teammates was a wild mix of rumors heard, confirmed information, and the earthling's own reflections.

But in general, one could rely on these speculations.

"The thing is that the title of supreme warmaster is a unique status. You need to do something unusual and put yourself above everyone else just to get a chance to become a candidate. If you can become an advanced warmaster by regular training and increasing all your attributes, then a supreme is something more."

Stas began to speak with much more passion as he himself had thought a lot about this.

"Each great clan prides themselves and boasts of their supreme warmasters. It is by them that the greatness of the clan is judged. That's why even small clans with one or two supreme warmasters are considered a serious threat. Fighters of this level can always unpleasantly surprise you."

Ordyntsev involuntarily daydreamed.

"Not to mention the warriors of the level of clan heads or even the creators of these very clans. Monsters that rise even above the strongest. A result of decades or even centuries of marriages and prana development. Many years of training and battles. The ideal of the warmaster world."

"Sounds beautiful," Mei smirked. "never gave a second thought to sensei's training. I assumed that's how all students were trained."

"O-o-oh, no," Eiji cut in. His voice literally trembled with sarcasm. "Believe me, it's far from it. Most mentors pick favorites from the masses, whose potential is the highest. And they teach the rest as an afterthought. After distribution into teams, not much changes. Often, a master is left with two or even one student to whom he passes on his knowledge. All the others either die or slide into a side branch as eternal assistants."

Eiji grimaced.

"I was so often scared with this fate that I am incredibly grateful to our sensei that he is not like that."

"I didn't even know," Mei muttered in amazement.

"What did you know, princess," the young man snorted, though without much malice. "You and I lived in different worlds. Where everything was brought to you on a golden platter, I had to tear it out with teeth and claws. To humble myself before laughing officials, just to be allowed to watch the training…"

"Sh-sh-sh!" Leviathan, who had finally returned, interrupted them. Since their position was somewhat far from the enemy camp, the snake had to crawl quite a distance.

And everyone knew that one of Levi's least favorite things was to rush headlong after her master, who moved at a monstrous speed. And she had to maintain such a pace for hours!

Ah, how benevolent were those times when he carried her in his arms. Unfortunately, all her attempts to climb back onto his shoulders ended with a hoarse scolding and orders to get off him before she crushed him.

Luckily, they usually walk at a normal pace, not hurrying anywhere.

"Alright," Stas frowned. "There goes our luck. Levi spotted warmasters. Six of them. Apparently, ordinary ones, just like us."

"Let's see who's stronger," Eiji hissed eagerly, nervously gripping his naginata. "I thought I'd be cutting former peasants for the rest of my life."

"Calm down," Mei interrupted him, being more cautious. "There are six of them, twice as many! We need to ask our sensei his opinion."

Stas said nothing, already suspecting what he would hear.

"What are you doing, scratching your balls? And tits, for that matter," the latter was addressed to Mei. She was no longer embarrassed by such things, having gotten used to the master's crude humor and words. "Go and kill them all. Grind them to dust and scatter it to the wind. Don't shame the name of your sensei."

"Understood!" The students were already preparing to attack the camp when the earthling's smarmy voice was heard.

"Master Jun, may I make some preparations before the attack? After all, we are warmasters, not samurai, to charge only with a katana at the enemy."

"I knew you'd suck all the joy out," Jun grumbled, darkening. "Alright, do what you want, but make sure those warmasters are dead in a few hours!"

"Count on me," Stas grinned wickedly, looking at the approaching Levi. She immediately responded with an equally sly expression on her face.

*****

"Boy, come over here!" the senior in their gang of renegade warmasters imperiously waved Kiochi over. Only the nasty smirk and the lackeys standing by filled the lad's soul with utter despair.

"I'm coming, Masao-sama," he muttered resignedly, dragging himself to the twenty-five-year-old leader of the bandit gang.

Fifteen-year-old Kiochi was the youngest among the group of renegade warmasters. Each of them had their own story, but something united them all.

If they are caught by bounty hunters or warmasters from their native towns, their fate will be unenviable.

After all, they were just ordinary warmasters and had no particular strength.

Their stories were also so-so. Someone got greedy and stole from comrades, managing to slip away in time when the machinations were revealed. Someone, on the contrary, killed for loot. And someone got scared and disobeyed an order, then, without waiting for death, left.

To his chagrin, Kiochi belonged to the latter. Although his own fault in this was little.

Their squad was initially a sacrificial pawn, and he was meant to perish alongside the others while the real unit flanked the enemy.

Only Kiochi wanted to live, and when all his comrades were dying and there was no way out, he fled. And he would have met his end if the ambush squad hadn't struck at that very second.

Now, Kiochi had no clan, as everyone clearly saw that he ran away, which filled the lad's soul with contempt for himself.

He would have ended this existence long ago, but something always stopped him.

Standing before the sneering Masao, the young warmaster awaited the usual mockery, but something went wrong.

"Ow, it hurts so much," one of the eating bandits clutched his stomach and, after a couple of steps, fell to his knees, then began rolling on the ground in pain. "Aa-a-ah!" he wailed monotonously.

Seconds later, the legs of another bandit gave way, and the air was filled with a second scream.

And now, from all sides came the wild cries of agony.

"Attack!" bellowed the leader, furiously looking around for enemies.

Kiochi, frightened, pulled out his blade, nervously looking around. The most terrible visions raced through his head.

'Headhunters?! Have they found us?! I don't want to die like that!' the lad was in horror because everyone knew their cruelty.

Clan warmasters even encouraged it so that potential renegades knew what punishment awaited them.

'Or is it my clan?!' Kiochi had a hard time deciding what was worse, headhunters or those deciding to punish compatriots.

But Kiochi didn't have time to finish this thought. As if thanks to a sixth sense, he managed to jump to the side.

It was because of this ability that he survived that massacre.

A fan of stone projectiles flew past his head. As if it were not happening to him, he heard an echo of someone's shout: "Stone bullets!"

The incorrectness of the technique name entered his head like a red-hot nail, and only a little later did he realize that he had not heard the first part of it.

The realization made him shiver – it meant that they were up against experienced fighters who didn't need to fully pronounce the names of techniques.

While Kiochi was avoiding death, the situation turned from bad to catastrophic.

A hail of deadly techniques rained down on them, finding their victims time and again. The bandits were nobody's concern, but the warmasters were also dropping out.

Not at the first hit, but death was dragging them into her cold embrace.

Kiocih saw how one of Masao's two lackeys was pulled into a water vortex that appeared out of nowhere. Nevertheless, although it peeled off his skin in several places, he was still alive after it ended and even managed to stand up.

However, the demoness with a sword that appeared behind him did not give him a chance to recover.

And the terrible stone bullets that turned their leader into a bag of meat? A prana cover managed to save his life, but not his health and the integrity of his bones. The naginata that descended on his head was merely an act of mercy.

And the last attacker? His red projectile turned the fourth renegade into a bloody mush that splattered everything around in a two-meter radius.

In the next instant, he engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the fifth warmaster. Luckily, he wasn't as good with his weapon as the others, so the lad's comrade was still holding on.

Kiochi decisively rushed to help, but, unfortunately, he was too late.

"Earth technique. Earthworms!" And there, the penultimate warmaster writhes, attempting to slice off the ghastly creatures devouring him alive.

The spear that pierced his chest interrupted this activity. The gray worms jerked out their blood-covered faces from the wounds and seemed to stare at Kiochi himself.

The lad froze in horror, not knowing what to do next. Run, attack? In either of these actions, death awaited him.

The green-clad warmaster leisurely turned around and looked at the crouching youth with surprisingly green eyes.

"Don't touch him; he's mine," the words of the green-eyed surprised Kiochi, and then he turned around and almost fell, seeing a smirking guy with a naginata behind him.

Apparently, he was already about to chop off his head.

Kiochi nervously turned back, watching the calmly approaching man. The young warmaster disdainfully inspected his pathetic rags and the enemy's not-so-bad armor.

'Even if I somehow manage to deal with him, his comrades will kill me. What to do?!'

Suddenly, his leg was pierced by a terrible pain, forcing him to cry out involuntarily.

To his surprise, he saw a snake emerging from the ground, which, deftly dodging the sword, pulled her fangs out of his flesh.

The leg almost immediately gave out.

'But aren't we immune to animal poisons?!' Kiochi tried to stand up but only fell face down.

A suffocating wave was spreading through his body, followed by a frightening numbness.

Having twisted out of the last of his strength, he managed to turn his head to see the green-eyed man standing in front of him. With some chill, he realized that the man's eyes were not just green. They had a real serpentine pupil!

Slurping sounds came from behind, and for some reason, his paralyzed body began to sway from side to side.

'That damn snake is eating me alive!' the terrible thought finally broke through into the poison-muddled mind: 'No! Please, not this! I don't want to!'

The last thing Kiochi saw before the maw closed off the light in front of him was the curious look of the squatting warmaster.

And then descended the impenetrable, damp darkness.