Simultaneous Transmigration: From Japanese Anime to American Comics

The young woman's figure was quite eye-catching, her curves accentuated by her tall, lean frame.

The stall owner was momentarily transfixed.

Noticing this, the young woman shifted her bag, and the sound of clanging metal echoed from within. The owner, upon glancing at the bag and catching sight of several glinting weapons inside, recoiled slightly and hurriedly focused on cooking.

Chu Yang smirked—she was pretty, and feisty too.

"Another bowl, please."

As he made this request, he sensed the young woman's annoyance beside him.

"You should finish eating and leave already. Aren't you worried about overstuffing yourself at this hour?" she muttered, though her words were still audible to Chu Yang.

"Sorry, but one bowl isn't enough for me. I have a big appetite," Chu Yang replied, smiling.

The young woman's eyes widened—she had spoken so softly that most people wouldn't have heard her.

"Ah!"

Blushing deeply, she avoided his gaze, embarrassed.

Chu Yang shifted on the bench, gesturing, "If you two don't mind, feel free to sit with me."

The middle-aged man glared at the young woman before clasping his hands toward Chu Yang. "My daughter is young and speaks carelessly; I hope you won't take it to heart, brother."

Chu Yang chuckled. "Not at all."

The man smiled and sat beside Chu Yang, giving his daughter a silent reprimanding look. She quickly lowered her head, apologizing.

Chu Yang politely brushed it off, not minding.

"You look like a scholar, yet with such sharp senses—seems there's more to you than meets the eye."

The middle-aged man inferred that Chu Yang's keen perception implied martial training and a certain level of skill.

Chu Yang waved it off, "You flatter me, sir. I only know a bit of basic self-defense."

With that, he turned his focus back to his wontons, leaving the man to quietly follow suit.

The young woman, meanwhile, continued to glance furtively at Chu Yang. Despite his scholarly appearance, he didn't resemble a martial artist at all.

Just as she was about to steal another look, Chu Yang finished his wontons in a few swift bites, paid, and left without a backward glance.

"Father, is he really a martial expert?" she asked, watching his departing figure.

The man frowned, puzzled. "He should be. That young man has an unusual presence, though I can't quite say why..."

The girl looked on, confused.

The man shook his head and laughed, "Whether he's an expert or not, it's not our concern. We've got the martial tournament to think about tomorrow."

At the mention of the tournament, a trace of worry flashed across the girl's face.

Well-fed, Chu Yang found a cozy inn and slept soundly. The next morning, he began gathering information about the prince's mansion where Xiao Huang was held.

Da Yong had only mentioned a "prince's mansion" but hadn't specified which one.

However, Chu Yang quickly identified his target.

While asking around, he overheard a familiar name.

Prince Zhao's mansion.

Wanyan Honglie.

As the pivotal figure who sets the stage for the plot of The Legend of the Condor Heroes, Wanyan Honglie holds a role of paramount importance.

The Prince Zhao Manor houses numerous individuals worthy of being called martial arts experts. In the entire city of Yanjing, only those in the Prince Zhao Manor could have injured so many members of the Beggars' Sect.

As for who precisely offended Xiao Huang, it no longer mattered.

To rescue Xiao Huang, Chu Yang would need to venture to the Prince Zhao Manor himself.

In broad daylight, the manor would undoubtedly be heavily guarded, but Chu Yang wasn't concerned in the least.

Even if he had to break in forcefully, he was confident he could come and go as he pleased.

None of the so-called experts in the Prince Zhao Manor could withstand even a single move from him.

After asking a few locals for directions and confirming the manor's location, Chu Yang set off without delay, heading along the bustling streets toward the heart of Yanjing.

He passed through several alleyways, and suddenly, the street ahead came alive with commotion.

Crowds of townsfolk gathered, shoulder to shoulder, blocking the road entirely as they craned to see something ahead.

Chu Yang clicked his tongue, suddenly understanding why Thanos wanted to snap his fingers.

Standing on tiptoes to peer over the sea of people, he pondered how to get out when a scream suddenly pierced the air.

A figure crashed heavily onto the open ground in front of Chu Yang, writhing and grimacing in pain like a fish flopping on dry land.

"Well, now, what sort of acrobatics are they playing at?"

Chu Yang looked up and saw a stage directly ahead with a flag waving in the breeze, bearing four large characters.

Martial Competition for Marriage!

And as for the poor fellow lying on the ground, he had clearly been kicked off the stage.

Judging by his condition, he wouldn't be back on his feet for at least ten days to half a month.

Meanwhile, atop the stage, the victor was an imposing, bald monk.

"Fighting so fiercely? Even monks are joining in?"

"The gender imbalance must be really severe if even monks are worried about finding wives..."

Chu Yang shook his head, sighing. Who would've thought that even in ancient times, he'd be worried about the birth rate?

Risking one's life in a martial competition for marriage—wouldn't it be better to sit down in a tavern and chat about life? Madness! Instead of martial arts, why not compare bridal gifts?

The bald monk on the stage shouted wildly, "Who else?!"

Chu Yang smirked in wonder, thinking this master must be quite the character. No doubt he enjoyed a drink and a smoke in his spare time.

After watching the crowd for a while and seeing no sign of it dispersing, Chu Yang decided to take a detour. If he tried to push through, it would be like a tank rolling over the crowd.

Just then, a young man, richly dressed and strikingly handsome, emerged from the crowd. With graceful agility, he leapt forward, stepping on the shoulders of bystanders as he headed straight for the stage, evidently intent on joining the martial competition for marriage.

The young man's handsome features and flamboyant entrance instantly attracted everyone's attention.

Even the girl presiding over the martial competition looked momentarily stunned.

A self-satisfied glint flashed in the young man's eyes; he clearly relished being in the spotlight.

But the very next second—

He felt a weight pulling him down, as though he were burdened with a thousand pounds.

A mocking voice sounded in his ear.

"Showing off is one thing, but stepping on my head? What's that about?"

Chu Yang had grabbed hold of the young man's ankle, his face full of displeasure.

If he hadn't reacted quickly, this guy would have launched himself off Chu Yang's head.

The young man looked awkward.

One of his feet was caught by Chu Yang, while the other was braced on the shoulder of an elderly woman in the crowd.

Oddly enough, the elderly woman wasn't upset; instead, she looked up at him with a lovestruck grin, her gaze filled with adoration, much like a fangirl fawning over her idol.

The young man shivered, quickly retracting his foot from the woman's shoulder and, in a flash, aimed a kick at Chu Yang's face.

With his grip still on the young man's ankle, Chu Yang raised his elbow, pressing it forward to meet the incoming kick.

With Chu Yang's formidable strength, his elbow might as well have been a battering ram. The instant they connected, a crunch echoed, and the young man's foot went numb.

The intense pain drained the color from his face, leaving him gasping for breath.

Chu Yang chuckled and threw him to the ground with a force that made the young man's head spin.

This man had acted with malice, and with Chu Yang's temper, he certainly intended to teach him a lesson.

Just as the young man was about to hit the ground, two figures burst from the crowd—a lama in red robes and a white-haired elder.

The lama swung a pair of bronze cymbals toward Chu Yang's wrist, which held the young man, while the elder fired several oddly-shaped nails at Chu Yang's chest.

The two men simultaneously targeted the gaps in Chu Yang's defenses, hoping to force him to release the young man.

"Watch out!"

The girl on the stage, recognizing Chu Yang from an incident at a wonton stall the previous night, couldn't help but call out in warning.

What surprised her was that this scholarly-looking young man had no intention of dodging. Even while under attack, he chose to slam his captive firmly to the ground!

Thud!!!

The young man coughed up a mouthful of blood, nearly fainting from the pain. What a ruthless character!

The crowd collectively shivered.

Meanwhile, both the cymbals and nails struck Chu Yang.

This scholar is done for! the girl thought instinctively.

And she wasn't the only one. Many others in the crowd shared her sentiment.

Yet the instant the lama's cymbals met Chu Yang's wrist, his expression changed.

The impact felt nothing like striking human flesh—it was more akin to hitting an exceptionally hard diamond.

The strike reverberated up the lama's right arm, leaving it numb.

Protected by his mastery of Armament Haki, Chu Yang's chest absorbed the nails as if they'd struck steel, falling to the ground with clinking sounds.

"Damn it, he's a hardened-body martial artist!"

The lama's pupils contracted, and he shouted to warn his companion.

Just as he prepared to withdraw, his gaze met Chu Yang's.

Chu Yang's icy stare seemed to pierce into his very bones, sending chills down the lama's spine.

Chu Yang reached out with his free hand, gripping the bronze cymbal and, with a powerful squeeze, twisted the metal as if it were paper, trapping the lama's hand.

The lama's eyes widened in terror as he looked on in disbelief.

After decades in the martial world, he'd never seen anyone crush steel barehanded.

The old man who had intended to assist immediately halted, leaving a long skid mark on the ground.