One Piece: The Strongest Asura

The Zhuo family had acquired a secret so shocking that it could shape their future. A person incapable of cultivating qi had managed to unleash sword energy—an impossible feat by all modern standards. Zallor, once an unremarkable figure seemingly destined for mediocrity, had suddenly become extraordinary.

The current era of cultivation paled in comparison to the golden age of the past. Back then, warriors wielded powers far beyond what was now achievable. To manifest sword energy without cultivating qi was nothing short of a miracle, a testament to the decline of today's standards. Zallor's potential heralded a nightmare for anyone opposing him, provided he could survive and grow stronger.

Some whispered of rebellion, the idea of overthrowing the invaders who had subdued their lands only a year prior. Yet such notions were fraught with peril. The invaders had mastered control through a ruthless blend of recruitment and extermination—eliminating the weak and enslaving or assimilating the strong.

The Zhuo family had already suffered under this strategy. A former prodigy of theirs, born with a sword soul, had been taken away before reaching maturity. The invaders understood that such talents could become dangerous adversaries if left unchecked. By eradicating threats early, they ensured their own supremacy.

Zallor awoke suddenly, his mind sharp and alert. He flexed his recently healed arm, marveling at the rapid recovery. Yet the questions remained: Where was he? How had he ended up here?

Could the Great Bear have thrown him across the Grand Line to some distant, unknown shore? Or perhaps he was no longer in the Grand Line at all. Worse still, he couldn't understand a word the locals spoke. The Grand Line had always been united by a shared language, but this place seemed different.

"Well," he muttered to himself, "I suppose learning their language is my first step. Then comes getting stronger. I can't believe a random swordsman here outclassed my sword energy. Looks like I've got a long way to go."

The battle he'd witnessed earlier had left him uneasy but motivated. It was clear this land held incredible challenges—and opportunities. If he could master its ways, he might gain power beyond anything he'd known before. Then he could reunite with his comrades, stronger than ever.

But first, he needed to strengthen his body. This vessel was painfully weak, a far cry from his former self. Gritting his teeth, Zallor began a series of basic exercises—push-ups, sit-ups, and stretches, routines he'd honed during his days aboard the ship. His body protested with every movement, but he pressed on. Strength was earned, not given.

He also realized something critical: he needed weapons. Without his blades, he felt incomplete. "I need three swords," he thought. "No, I must have three swords. Fighting without them feels… wrong."

The next morning, the Zhuo family patriarch visited with Zhuo Yuan. Their expressions were solemn yet tinged with hope. The discovery of Zallor's hidden potential had shifted their priorities. They now intended to teach him swordsmanship, ensuring he could defend himself and, perhaps, the family in the future.

"Zallor, can you understand me?" the patriarch asked cautiously.

He assumed Zallor's silence stemmed from trauma, believing time and gentle guidance would restore his voice.

Zallor tilted his head, struggling to decode the unfamiliar sounds. "What are you saying? I can't understand a word! Can't you teach me your language?"

The patriarch exchanged a look with Zhuo Yuan, realizing the extent of the problem. "It seems he truly doesn't understand us. We'll need to teach him. Otherwise, he'll remain illiterate, unable to grasp even the basics of swordsmanship."

Zallor grew frustrated, resorting to exaggerated gestures to communicate. "Listen, old man, I don't know what you're saying! Can't you speak the language of the Grand Line?"

His desperation was palpable. The language barrier felt insurmountable, a wall between him and the answers he sought.

The patriarch sighed heavily. "He truly doesn't know. We'll have to teach him from scratch. If not, he'll remain as helpless as a child, unable to fend for himself."

Indeed, illiteracy was a universal handicap, a hurdle that could not be ignored. No matter where one was, the inability to communicate was a problem that demanded a solution. For Zallor, overcoming it would be the first step in his journey to reclaim his strength—and his destiny.