Chapter 683: A Martial Artist Must Strengthen Himself — A Martial Artist Must Be Strong (2)

Qing had never once struggled in a one-on-one fight against someone at the Superlative Peak even back when she herself was at the Superlative Peak.

That swaggering, half-joking refrain about transcendence, that un-warrior-like confidence that she was already halfway into the next realm—was, in fact, half sincere and also half true.

But Qing right now was not at the Superlative Peak.

As a result, Sword Jade Girl took a lot of hits.

Very evenly, very miserably.

She reached with her sword and got hit; she swung and got hit; she took a kick to the abdomen; her shin got rapped; a knife-hand struck her neck; her thigh got smashed—and she even had the horrifying experience of her legs giving way without meaning to.

At first the crowd watched with keen excitement, a duel between two women contending over the exalted honor of the Sword Queen.

But their faces gradually paled; pity crept in.

Oof, that’s going to hurt.

She’s really getting worked over, really.

Among them, only Moyong Juhee sat there thump-thump, oddly hazy-eyed, unable to look away, gulping down her spit.

Even so, Sword Jade Girl did not let go of her sword.

Call it the “pinned dog effect”: people are bound to root for an unyielding underdog.

So, in the end, the crowd also clenched their fists and silently begged that wicked Heavenly Flower Sword over there to at least take one hit back.

And then, finally—

“...I concede.”

Huh. Already?

If she had even half of Chunbong’s grit, she wouldn’t be saying she lost yet. I was just starting to feel warmed up.

If I “warm up” twice, someone’s going to die.

“Then we’ll see you at our academy, right?”

“...I ask for your instruction and guidance.”

Sword Jade Girl turned, stumbled, and disappeared into the crowd, limping on the left leg that had taken the worst beating.

A very desolate retreating back.

The lack of cheers even in victory was the crowd’s way of showing their regret.

But Qing stood tall.

Come on—at this level? It’s not like I beat her that much.

Ximen Surin had never bothered to paint her own swordsmanship over a disciple who already executed forms to perfection; instead, she focused on melting what Qing had into place through live-combat sparring.

Disassemble the stylized forms and apply their true intent to a fight.

So Qing rolled every single day.

One drop of sweat now saves one drop of blood later; one scream now can take the place of that one last death-rattle later.

Therefore: take your lumps and go tumbling under the loving smacks that contain a near-death experience and the Subtlety of Nuclear Fission.

That was the training Qing did while staying at Divine Lady’s Gate.

And this time, Qing, who strongly supported her master’s education policy, was simply playing Ximen Surin’s role.

Even for Qing, she didn’t go around gleefully pounding some decent person just because it was satisfying on the hands.

It all turns to blood and flesh; the more you’ve hurt to the edge of death, the more you’ll mature henceforth.

I’ve basically already become a true master. Teaching the true and the upright. Ahhh.

And Sword Jade ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Girl would bow and learn readily, wouldn’t she?

If she’d huffed and puffed in anger after a few blows, Qing wouldn’t have gone that far with the beating.

But Sword Jade Girl grew steadily serious and sincerely asked to be taught (or so Qing thought).

Every time her sword form came driving in, it felt as if a question was mixed into it—How about wielding like this, then?

Of course, she might simply be a grit-girl.

But by the vibe of it she felt somehow similar to a Sword-Friend, like a female Sword-Friend.

Seeing how she withdrew more or less satisfied—probably?

Mm. Or not, whatever.

The crowd parted to open a path where Sword Jade Girl hobbled along, and a great many sympathetic gazes clung to her.

Of course, only for a moment—soon the way she had passed filled in, and she came out beyond the open ground.

“Young lady of the Sword? Are you all right? Even if she’s the Heavenly Flower Sword, how can one treat a person like this? There’s no propriety in this!”

“He’s right! Too much!”

“Oh no, that must hurt so much...!”

Sword Jade Girl had tasted defeat twice since entering the rivers and lakes.

Once now, to the Heavenly Flower Sword.

And once to this young man she had met on the road, Chae Seong-ha, who possessed an astounding divine art that drew on nature-qi.

Sword Jade Girl looked indifferently at Chae Seong-ha with his worry-filled eyes, and at the two women beside him squawking in a tizzy.

That must hurt, Sword-sister, are you all right? Ah, how awful, there’s already a bruise on your upper arm...! And you’re limping, too. How could she just beat someone like that?

Yet in the eyes of those women there flickered something like a lewd delight.

On the surface they sounded concerned, but translated bluntly, it was: wow, you got utterly shredded, huh?—a savoring smirk.

Not that it was anything new.

All she had wanted was to cross swords with this astonishing divine art and maybe grasp a clue toward a higher realm; that was why she had traveled with them. But to these women, she must have looked like a rival trying to steal “their” man.

So: she put on all that lofty air and still got smashed to pieces—now’s the time to disgrace her thoroughly in front of their lord. That seemed to be the plan.

She had simply met a worthy opponent as swordswoman to swordswoman and asked to vie.

To begin with, he was a lecher who, even with two women adoring him at his side, played dumb while turning his eyes to yet another woman.

Worse still if he wasn’t playing dumb.

“This really goes too far! Even if she’s an instructor, how can she— I’ll at once—”

“At once do what, exactly?”

“Pardon? That is...”

What exactly is he going to do.

Chae Seong-ha got soundly thrashed; what could he possibly do.

“Uh, lodge a complaint?”

“Do I look that hurt to you?”

Suddenly Sword Jade Girl’s eyes softened into a crescent.

Chae Seong-ha stared blankly at that care-free smile—it was his first time seeing her smiling face.

“You’ve misseen things, sir.”

“Pardon?”

Sword Jade Girl didn’t elaborate and moved on.

There wasn’t a spot that didn’t ache or throb—“ragged rag” would be the exact expression.

But she was not in pain.

Not in the body, but in the heart—thanks to this utterly refreshing sense of release.

Her first foray into the rivers and lakes had been a place wide and vast to the point of horror.

Even though, had she followed the coastline from Hainan, she would have circled back to her starting point several times over, she had only just arrived at her destination; to the west, Sichuan; to the east, Jiangnan; to the north, beyond Hebei—how much broader a world must still lie open?

The first loss had been special, but the second?

With a world this vast, of course there would be more than one or two experts who could defeat her.

The Heavenly Flower Sword was not at the Superlative Peak.

That overwhelming presence, those restrained movements, the insight that put Sword Jade Girl on her palm and saw through her.

Above all, this wasn’t a duel or contest at all. It was one-sided guidance and instruction.

Absolutely not something someone on the same level could do.

Even if the method was rather rough and harsh, instruction that contains a clear right answer—

If you can pay for a priceless experience with something as cheap as a body that hurts a bit—

If the pain of the blows doesn’t make it impossible to focus, she would have taken it gladly all day.

There was no problem, though.

To keep her promise, once she entered the Righteous-Proper Martial Academy, she would be able to seek instruction continuously.

Only, it was a little shameful and embarrassing.

A greenhorn who had only just reached the Superlative Peak had picked a fight to have a go—what on earth must she have been thinking.

If Qing could have peered into such inward thoughts, she would probably have been able to say it right then:

See? I told you—she’s a female Sword Fang.

Qing’s daily routine was simple.

While the sun was up, she fulfilled examiner duties.

And after sunset? Even after sunset, Qing was busy.

“Um, young lady...”

“Mm, Miss Moyong? What’s up?”

“Um, well, it’s that...”

Moyong Juhee opened and closed her fists, twisted her torso this way and that, and fidgeted with an awkward look.

Qing chuckled.

“Need a favor? Oh come on. Between us? What is it?”

“Th-that spar you did today with that Sword Pavilion person. Um, it looked like tremendous instructional sparring—like you were teaching in full live-combat mode.”

“Aw, it wasn’t anything so grand.”

Qing scratched the back of her neck and went on.

“How’d you tell? Now that you’ve reached the Superlative Peak too, Miss Moyong, your eye is finally becoming human?”

There wasn’t a shred of humility to be found.

For someone like her to act prim only in front of elders—anyone overhearing would be floored.

But that’s how society works: flatter the ones above you, and the ones below fall in line on their own.

A great flesh-and-bone decision for motivating her friends by example.

Of course, it was only her friends’ flesh and bones that got shaved—none of her own.

“Th-then, could I— could I also ask you— I’ve been learning something new lately, called the Two-Front Star, but it’s hard, really blocked up, frustrating—could you also, um, very strictly, like, r-really— I mean, strictly... huff, huff.”

Her voice kept getting smaller toward the end; only because Qing possessed human-transcending hearing did she catch even the small gasps that slipped out.

“Mm. Spar like it’s real combat. If you vomit now, you save the blood you would vomit later; crying your eyes out halfway won’t help you, okay?”

“Ah!”

Moyong Juhee flushed scarlet.

Qing tilted her head.

What in what I just said would make her blush? I said I’d make you vomit instead of coughing blood, didn’t I?

Or was it the crying part?

Miss Moyong has cried a lot in front of me, so it could be embarrassing.

“But I’m a bit busy these days. If it’s your request, Miss Moyong, I’d love to pair up, but I’m wearing the instructor’s cap right now, and they told me I have to teach a sword art called the Oro Sword Formula, so I’m knee-deep in studying it.”

“Ah!”

“So—next time.”

Moyong Juhee’s head drooped. Next time, and then next time again—that “next time” that never actually comes.

No—wait. If the research finishes quickly...

Moyong Juhee snapped her head up.

“Then I—I’ll help!”

“Oh? That’d be great.”

Moyong Juhee, joined.

Thus, after sunset, out in the bright courtyard of the temporary academy headquarters—where the Martial Alliance, which doesn’t know the value of money, burned firewood like water—they trained the Oro Sword Art.

Because to teach it, you have to know it first.

Contrary to expectations, Qing is a diligent person.

You could say, “How is someone diligent who topples over at the drop of a hat, snores drrrr, and then wakes up and runs off to play again?”

That was only because those hours were the hours when one should rest hard and play hard; the root of it here was “hard.”

When there was something to do even if she didn’t want to, she was faithful to that duty and didn’t waste time; sit her down in the boring examiner’s chair and she would, once seated, watch carefully to write at least a single earnest line.

Sleep when it’s time to sleep, play when it’s time to play, work when it’s time to work—the very model of conscientiousness.

Only, the times when she has to work are extremely limited.

Ordinarily, she’s the type to shoulder her own losses and simply not do it.

She only works when someone makes her, or to stave off an unacceptable level of harm.

Not that Qing is special.

Surprisingly, most people know at least one or two like this in their circle—fairly common.

A very passive sort of diligent person.

Diligent only when someone tells them to be—reactive.

Be that as it may, the Oro Sword Art contains five subtleties of the sword within one system.

In truth, martial arts that differ in subtlety from move to move are quite common.

First move: hard sword; second move: soft sword; third move: swift sword—like that.

Such arts tend to sit at one extreme or the other: either truly basic, or truly supreme from the outset, demanding sword-steel at entry.

For basic arts, think of the Moon Maiden Sword Art.

Or Iron Army Steps, one of the military’s “Eighteen Kinds” weapon drills. And the lower-grade arts of prestigious great sects or noble houses.

Thanks to that, disciples could directly experience various subtleties as introductory arts and, at the same time, find the disposition that suited them to set their path.

For the latter, they are outright supreme arts—cases where a grandmaster who had already transcended subtleties wove together the realizations of his later years into a compendium.

A supreme secret like the Heavenly Martial Emperor’s Dokgo Nine Sword Forms.

But the Oro Sword Formula was different.

It packed multiple subtleties into a single move.

Strike down heavy, then roll the blade to resolve, drive that speed into a swift-sword continuation, and then finish softly with the closing cut.

Within one move, heavy → swift → soft flows on.

Said like that, it sounds good.

But it only sounds good.

If it were truly good, then today’s martial world would be dominated by “hodge-podges” that shovel in every subtlety.

There are no such mainstream arts—because it isn’t good.

Even so, it was the art Qing, as an instructor, had to teach.