Idle Tycoon System

They paused, exchanging glances, before the head judge delivered the most troubling part of their warning.

"We apologise that we cannot do anything to protect you from what may come. Master Hideaki's influence and connections extend throughout the community and beyond. Any attempt we made to shield you would likely fail and only draw his anger toward us as well."

The admission of their powerlessness hung in the air like a death sentence. These were respected judges, men with authority and connections of their own, yet they openly acknowledged their inability to stand against a single swordsman.

"Our advice," the third judge said with genuine concern in his voice, "is that you should change address as quickly as possible. If you can also change countries, change your contact information, and avoid any martial arts competitions where he might find you. Perhaps after several years, his anger will cool enough that you can resume a normal life."

"Hide," the head judge summarised grimly. "That is your only realistic option for survival."

Inwardly, Noah had to suppress laughter at the absurdity of their warning. The idea that he should be terrified of a 'grandmaster' swordsman, on earth, however legendary, was genuinely amusing to someone who had reached adept rank in magical cultivation. On Earth, where ambient mana was thin and magical knowledge almost nonexistent, even the most skilled mundane martial artist represented little genuine threat to someone with his capabilities and various items.

The judges were warning him about a dangerous mortal as if that should inspire fear in someone who could reshape the area around him through his mana and possessed physical attributes that transcended humans. It was like warning a tiger to hide from an angry housecat.

Still, Noah didn't voice his amusement aloud. These old men were genuinely trying to help based on their understanding of the world's power dynamics. Revealing that he was on a completely different level would only create more questions and complications he had no interest in addressing. Plus, they wouldn't believe him and would probably think he had lost his marbles from fear. Not that he needed to or wanted to tell them anyway.

"I appreciate your concern and warning," Noah said respectfully, maintaining the facade of a talented but ultimately normal martial artist. "I will take your advice seriously and consider my options carefully."

The judges seemed relieved that he was at least acknowledging the danger, though their expressions still showed deep worry about his future. They clearly believed they were sending him off to face an inevitable and terrible fate despite their warnings.

"May god protect you, Champion Carter," the head judge said as they stood to conclude the meeting. "You have exceptional talent that deserves a long future. Please do not let pride or stubbornness prevent you from taking the necessary precautions."

Noah accepted their final warnings calmly, collecting his championship sword and prize money before departing the tournament facility. As he walked through the now-empty arena toward the exit, he could almost feel the weight of their expectations that he would flee the country in terror.

Instead, his mind was already moving on to more important matters. The tournament had been a useful information gathering and training opportunity, but his real priorities lay in the other dimension where genuine challenges awaited. A vengeful grandmaster might create minor inconvenience at worst, easily handled if it even became necessary.

The golden sword caught the late afternoon sunlight as Noah emerged from the building, its gleam attracting attention from the few remaining spectators in the parking area. Some called out congratulations while others simply stared, perhaps wondering if they were looking at a future legend or a dead man walking.

Noah smiled slightly as he made his way back toward the parking area, already planning his return to Esta and the continuation of his real advancement. The tournament arc had concluded satisfactorily, and now more important work awaited.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Although he was dissatisfied with many things that the tournament organisers had done wrong, their transportation service was still good.

The walk back through the resort grounds felt longer than Noah remembered, though that might have been due to the constant interruptions from people wanting to speak with the newly crowned champion. Word had spread quickly about his dominant victory, and suddenly everyone wanted a connection to the tournament's dark horse winner.

"Mr Carter! Congratulations on your victory!" A middle-aged businessman approached with an eager smile and extended a business card. "I represent several martial arts equipment manufacturers who would be very interested in sponsorship opportunities."

Noah accepted the card with minimal eye contact, glancing at it briefly before pocketing it without comment. "I'll consider it," he said vaguely, his tone suggesting no real interest in follow-up.

"Perhaps we could discuss terms over dinner tonight?" the man pressed, clearly hoping to capitalise on Noah's moment of fame.

"I have other commitments," Noah replied simply, already moving past him toward his room.

Two young fighters who had been eliminated in earlier rounds intercepted him near the training facilities, their expressions showing the friendliness of people seeking advantage rather than a true connection.

"That was incredible what you did out there," one began enthusiastically. "We were wondering if you'd be interested in training together sometime? We could learn a lot from your techniques."

Noah's response was equally noncommittal. "Maybe. I don't have a fixed schedule."

"Do you have contact information we could use to reach you?" the other asked hopefully.

"I prefer to let fate take its course if we are destined to meet. We will," Noah answered, his body language already angling away from the conversation.

The pattern repeated itself several more times as he made his way through the resort. Journalists wanting exclusive interviews, martial artists seeking training partnerships, promoters offering tournament appearances, all approaching with transparent attempts to attach themselves to his success.

Noah responded to each inquiry with the same disinterest, his answers vague enough to avoid commitment while remaining technically courteous. His minimal engagement and lack of enthusiasm gradually became apparent to even the most persistent seekers.