One Piece: The Strongest Asura

Teaching Zallor was proving to be a daunting challenge. If he couldn't understand their language, passing on swordsmanship to him would be nearly impossible. The Zhuo family patriarch knew that resolving the communication barrier was critical. Language was the foundation of understanding, and without it, they were at an impasse.

Zallor himself was equally frustrated. He had no clue what they were saying, let alone how to respond. His goal wasn't to linger in this unfamiliar place. He still dreamed of returning to the Grand Line, where his true mission awaited.

While there was a faint sense of familiarity in his surroundings, it wasn't enough to bind him here. His spirit belonged elsewhere, and this body—though now his—felt alien.

The Zhuo family had another pressing question: Did Zallor truly unleash that sword energy during the earlier fight? If so, it would indicate that he had the potential to practice ancient swordsmanship. Such techniques, though largely abandoned, were known for their raw, overwhelming power.

Ancient methods of cultivation demanded extraordinary innate talent, making them inaccessible to ordinary people. Over time, the populace had shifted to more practical, less demanding systems, which allowed for a greater number of practitioners but lacked the same level of potency. This shift was one reason their continent had fallen to the invaders, many of whom still trained in ancient methods.

If Zallor could genuinely channel sword energy, it would prove he was one of the rare individuals capable of mastering the old ways. Such strength could be the Zhuo family's key to rising again. But there was a problem—Zallor seemed to have lost not only his memory but also all his previous skills. To the family, he was now a blank slate.

Zhuo Yuan sighed. "It looks like we'll have to rely on gestures and the most basic methods. Hopefully, he can pick up on what we mean."

The patriarch nodded. "For now, let's take him to the training grounds. If he can replicate what he did before, we'll know where to begin. Otherwise, we'll need to rethink everything."

Despite the challenges, the family saw Zallor as a potential savior. The resistance against the invaders was growing, and cultivating a strong warrior might be the decisive factor in reclaiming their homeland. No one was content to submit. It was a fundamental truth that, while people might bow to their own kin, they would never willingly surrender to outsiders.

They soon arrived at the training grounds. Zallor's eyes lit up as he took in the sight of various training tools and equipment. For the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope. These tools could help him rebuild his strength. Once his body recovered, he could refine his swordsmanship once more.

His thoughts drifted briefly to his time at the Baratie, the floating sea restaurant, and his fateful encounter with Mihawk. Mihawk had criticized his reliance on brute force, calling it inelegant. Zallor, however, had remained steadfast in his belief that strength was the foundation of all swordsmanship. His style emphasized power, though he had begun to incorporate a balance of flexibility and precision.

Yet this frail body wasn't up to the task. His earlier attempt to unleash his signature "Thirty-Six Pound Phoenix" had left him with a dislocated shoulder. It was clear he had a long way to go before he could wield true strength again.

"I don't know if you can understand my words," the Zhuo patriarch said, gesturing to Zallor, "but I hope you can follow my actions. Show me the power you displayed during the fight. Watch carefully."

The patriarch then drew his sword, his movements deliberate. He closed his eyes briefly, focusing, before opening them with a sharp intensity.

Zallor furrowed his brow, sensing the shift in energy. He had a vague idea of what was coming.

In one fluid motion, the patriarch unleashed a blade of energy, a gust of force cutting through the air and slicing a distant stone in half. The demonstration of sword energy left Zallor impressed, though he did his best to hide it.

This was true swordsmanship—something Zallor aspired to reclaim. Yet he couldn't shake the thought: Would this weak body ever allow him to reach such heights again?