Chapter 697: Instructor Bureau

The Righteous-Proper Martial Academy was a vast manor hidden in the mountains.

Following the Central Plains’ characteristic manor style, walls were raised within the perimeter so that the manor was laid out like a maze.

According to one account, people of the Central Plains, having waged war as communities at the village unit, developed such complicated formats for the sake of defense.

A distinguishing point of the manor style is the doors for passage.

Thoroughfares open to anyone are pierced in a round form without door leaves.

Of course, “anyone” here excludes servants: the small side gates used by servants are designed along remote routes, as out of sight as possible.

If a main gate is set into a wall, it signifies that you must seek permission to enter.

And the size of that main gate symbolizes the authority of the sector it belongs to.

So when the cadets faced the huge main gate hung with the majestic plaque of the north-facing swordsmanship training hall—the Sword Hall — what a feeling that was.

Their chests swelled of themselves; in that instant they freshly realized that only now had they posted themselves to the academy, that the first day had dawned as members of the orthodox Martial Alliance.

Jang Bihu of Eomchang felt his chest swell especially grand, for he had willingly abandoned and escaped the fine position of successor to an unorthodox faction that controlled a city.

In the Central Plains, one’s birth is not some convenient household-register entry you can give up just because you say you give it up; it is a great brand you must bear for life.

Even so, to set foot in the Righteous-Proper Martial Academy so proudly—naturally, that emotion was beyond words...

—Out! Sorcery! In this sacred Sword Hall, what kind of outrage is this!

—“Sorcery,” you say? Your words go too far.

Shouts rang from inside the Sword Hall.

At that, his roommate (the person sharing his room), Jang Sam, nudged Jang Bihu with an elbow.

“Uh-oh, looks like a fight.”

Jang Bihu answered:

“Let’s go.”

There is no Central Plains person who refuses a fight to watch.

The two hurried in, and sure enough, in the broad drill yard of the Sword Hall the cadets had already ringed around, absorbed in the spectacle.

When Jang Bihu quickly joined them and looked, two men were squared off inside.

One was the youth Chae Seong-ha, who had toppled an examiner but then been thrashed by the Heavenly Flower Sword.

And the other—

“Mm. To pick a quarrel with the Little Sword King on the first day—he’s something, that fellow.”

Jang Bihu clicked his tongue and spoke.

The man frowning opposite Chae Seong-ha was none other than the Little Sword King, Namgung Sinjae, widely known as the young master of the Namgung House.

“I know his martial skill is impressive, but a man ought to know how to conduct himself a little...”

Jang Bihu said, sounding regretful.

Then Jang Sam, with those narrow eyes of his, replied wearing a distinctly suspicious, meaningful smile.

“If the opponent is nameless, one may ‘roughly conduct oneself’ and pick a quarrel—but if the opponent is a famous man, must one fabricate conduct that doesn’t exist in order to treat him with deference? Perhaps the Azure-Dragon Chivalrous is a broad-hearted person who doesn’t care about fame and influence, so, little brother, don’t speak rashly without knowing the before and after.”

It was a right principle everyone knows yet cannot practice; Jang Bihu felt a bit ashamed.

If not for the extremely suspicious look on Jang Sam’s face, he might have felt much more ashamed.

But somehow—to speak plainly—his expression was exactly that of someone hiding a scheme as he spoke.

Besides, his name was “Jang Sam.”

When one doesn’t want to reveal one’s name, the alias one uses offhand is precisely “Jang Sam”—a declaration that one will not bother to hide the fact one is hiding one’s name.

A little embarrassed, Jang Bihu shifted the topic and asked a cadet who’d been watching first about the situation.

“What’s going on?”

“The Azure-Dragon Chivalrous asked the Little Sword King for a spar, and after a few exchanges the Little Sword King showed anger and called it ‘sorcery.’ The Azure-Dragon Chivalrous shot back, ‘If you can’t beat it with skill, is everything sorcery.’”

“Wait—he really said it like that? That’s flat-out picking a fight.”

“The Little Sword King really said it; the Azure-Dragon Chivalrous was courteous, but the result amounts to having said it. Will they have a proper bout? But no matter how outstanding his martial skill, to go at the Little Sword King—no, to begin with, if he has such divine skill, why bother coming all the way here...”

It was, in any case, a somewhat biased judgment.

If it’s an arrogant country martial artist who’s learned a single divine trick versus the next head of the great great Namgung House, whose side you should take is clear.

Just then—

—What is this commotion in the morning!?

A clear voice slid straight into the ear.

Even though it was a cry with great volume, it had no roughness at all and sounded purely gentle—a sweet tone so uncanny it felt outright wondrous.

A voice anyone would remember the owner of after hearing once, and so all the cadets snapped their heads at once.

The Heavenly Flower Sword had arrived!

Qing was nonplussed.

First class—still at the starting point before even introductions—what on earth was this ruckus from the start?

Still—well, maybe this worked out.

“Cadet Namgung Sinjae, down—prone-out.”

“Mm...”

Namgung Sinjae looked displeased, but without particular words he obediently went down and stretched out.

For Namgung Sinjae wasn’t stupid—just peculiar.

She hadn’t called him “Sword-Friend,” but “Cadet Namgung Sinjae,” meaning she would treat him as a single cadet; and if he didn’t wish to trample an instructor’s authority from the very first class, he realized he should comply.

And this also declared that, Little Sword King or not, she would treat them equally; even if he had something to say, he understood that now was a time to hold it in and play along.

Qing drew out the object at her waist.

Too large to call a recorder, and on top of that blackish and truly ugly.

That she had made a recorder from ten-thousand-year cold iron—by that fact alone it was a great achievement that won praise from all the ironsmiths of the world; even if the exterior was rough and the surface uneven, that brilliant feat suffered no shadow.

But if someone who didn’t know saw it—

Why is she carrying that when she says “recorder”?

Is she... carrying it to beat people?

And soon that suspicion turned to conviction.

Ah, she’s definitely carrying it to beat people!

SMAAACK!! A murderous sound that woke the morning.

“Gyaaah!”

Even the world’s Namgung Sinjae lost his wits at the nuclear explosion that detonated on his backside; from the prone position he launched as if fired, rubbing his butt at super speed and hopping like a jiangshi.

“Fuuuu...”

Qing exhaled as if she had used a great technique.

Nuclear fusion is an art among arts, demanding deep concentration; Master flicked it off as easily and naturally as picking up side dishes, but Qing had to modulate force with exquisite care so as not to damage bone and tendon and, in a state of hyperfocus, make thorough preparation.

“Everyone—there are countless arts under heaven, and there overflow myriad strange martial skills that are hard to understand. Therefore you must not lightly denigrate another’s martial skill as sorcery. Do you understand well?”

“Yes, ma’am!” “Understood!” “Yeees, ma’am!”

Their answers were still not unified, yet the volume burst out resoundingly.

They had just watched a terrifying strike that made even a transcendent master lose face and run about like a man possessed—of course it snapped them to attention.

Only then did Namgung Sinjae, freed from shock and awe, look at Qing with a slightly resentful gaze.

Qing cleared her throat.

“Only—by way of explanation—this Young Hero Namgung here will serve henceforth as assistant instructor for this curriculum and will assist your training; in the previous hour we received much help from him for the sword curriculum and he joined in setting the plans.”

Qing continued:

“Henceforth, within this swordsmanship hall, every martial skill other than swordsmanship will be treated as sorcery. Assistant Namgung knew this in advance and seems to have made a mistake.”

From the cadets there spread a murmur of Ahh, that makes sense, of course.

Even if he is the Little Sword King, to call something “sorcery” so offhand—there had been no such rumor about him; it had seemed odd.

Of course, Namgung Sinjae had meant it.

Swinging a sword about and dancing— from his standpoint it was a horrid hybrid neither swordsmanship nor dance, truly sorcery.

Anyway.

Qing swung up the Belly Dagger.

“This recorder is called the Love Stick. It contains the stern love of a teacher for chastening—so when a cadet makes a mistake, I shall, with a pained heart, deliver a stinging lesson.”

“Love Stick,” to gloss it, is a rod of love-for-discipline.

Cold sweat beaded along the cadets’ backs.

It was the moment conviction turned to understanding.

She really did bring it to beat people!

And in that instant, Qing’s aura changed.

It was a killing-laced force exuded by one at the Flower Realm—and the holder of the Ten-Thousand-Slaughters Baleful Star.

To third-, second-, and first-rate martial artists, it delivered knee-buckling fear; to apex masters, a massive pressure, each in proportion to what they knew.

In an instant even breathing stopped in the surroundings.

It was a good thing she wore a veil; had their eyes met, the faint of heart might have fallen in disaster.

“Now—enough. As of this moment, I will perform my duties as your instructor. Which is to say, I’m throwing out the courtesies between martial person and martial person. If anyone has complaints, depart at once. After this, there will be no mid-course withdrawal from my curriculum.”

They felt it was no ordinary matter—but that didn’t mean anyone truly intended to leave.

The Righteous-Proper Martial Academy was the opportunity the cadets had dreamed of; there wasn’t a soul who had entered intending to slack.

“Assistant Namgung, Assistant Moyong, Assistant Changbin—front.”

“These three will be the assistant instructors who help your training.”

The three stepped forward and took positions to Qing’s left and right.

“Before we implement the curriculum, I will first explain the rules of this curriculum. Repeat after me! Every martial skill other than swordsmanship is sorcery!”

“Every martial skill other than swordsmanship is sorcery!”

“Is that all the voice you’ve got!!”

“EV—ERY SKILL! EX—CEPT SWORD! IS! SOR—CER—YYYY!!!”

“The sword is the best weapon among the ten thousand weapons, a weapon superior to any other in the world!”

“The sword is the best weapon among the ten thousand weapons, a weapon superior to any other in the world!!”

“The saber is nothing but a half-length sword, a piece of trash with only a single downward chop!”

“The saber is nothing but a half-length sword, a piece of trash with only a single downward chop!!!”

“The spear is a low-grade weapon used by commoners without inner power!”

“The spear is a low-grade weapon used by commoners without inner power!!!”

“The fist is so shameful a ‘weapon’ it’s embarrassing even to speak of it!”

“The fist is so shameful a ‘weapon’ it’s embarrassing even to speak of it!!!”

Namgung Sinjae’s voice stuck out especially hard—why was he shouting in such earnest?

“Of course, what a ghastly, fearsome way of thinking this is. But at this moment you are cadets of the sword curriculum at the Righteous-Proper Martial Academy; during your enrollment your status is to devote yourselves solely to training for swordsmanship. Therefore, at least in the times when you are absorbed in the curriculum, you must, with this mindset, devote yourselves wholly to swordsmanship.”

Accordingly, within the sacred swordsmanship hall, the use of sorcery is forbidden; if anyone uses it, he will earn a somewhat stinging lesson.

At the phrase “stinging lesson,” the cadets’ gazes stabbed DADADAK down onto the Belly Dagger.

“Second! Until this instructor grants permission, the use of inner power during class is forbidden!”

A buzz of murmurs rose. Understandable.

If you don’t use inner power, how do you train swordsmanship? Isn’t external skill originally important in harmony with inner power?

There was even someone who didn’t stop at murmuring.

“Instructor. I am the Sword Jade Girl of the Sword Pavilion. In swordsmanship, the operation of inner power according to its grain is also a matter of grave importance; if we do not use inner power, then it’s merely a form that looks plausible—”

“Enough.”

Qing cut off the lower-face-veiled Sword Jade Girl.

“I have not yet finished explaining the rules, so I will let it pass this time. If you have something to propose to the instructor, first raise your hand and seek leave.”

At that, the Sword Jade Girl, with eyes showing a slight grievance, nevertheless meekly raised her hand to request to speak.

But Qing shook her head.

“The cadet’s proposal is well understood. However, this instructor gained great benefit from this mode of training, so I will not accept the proposal.”

Namgung Sinjae nodded with satisfaction.

The Sword Jade Girl seemed to think a moment, then bowed her head slightly and withdrew.

Well, since she said she had gained great benefit. This was the sort of form training done when one first entered the Sword Pavilion; once one’s tending of inner power became free, one had always trained together with sword-qi, so—surprisingly—training one hadn’t done in a while seemed to help. In that case, naturally there was no complaint.

“Depending on your attitude, this instructor can become an immortal—or a devil. And that attitude is—nothing but basics. Just basics. Do the basics. Keep only the basics.”

Qing took up the doctrine of basics.

It was that very thing hardest to keep in all the world—the basics.