Rehabilitation Training (2)
I let out a low whistle as I looked around the training ground. Damn, this place is nice.
The facilities were impeccably organized and maintained. It really drove home just how far ahead medieval Europe was compared to China at the same time. Back there, unless you came from a truly powerful clan, you’d never even get to see a properly paved stone floor like this. The Dark Ages really had no answers for anything.
If only I’d been dropped off during the Renaissance instead. That would’ve been so much better.
“This is incredible.”
“Hehe, the Hainan Sword Sect’s training grounds are the best on the entire island, you know!”
Hye-ryeong puffed out her chest with her hands on her hips, clearly proud. The way her voice brimmed with pride for her sect made me chuckle. I turned to her and asked,
“Could I borrow a wooden sword? Preferably the longest one you have.”
“Just a moment!”
Considering the average build of martial artists here, I’d need something longer than standard to match my height. Hye-ryeong nodded vigorously and scampered off toward the weapon storage chest in the corner of the training ground. She soon returned, cradling a noticeably long wooden sword in her arms, and held it out to me.
“This is the longest one we have!”
It wasn’t quite as long as a greatsword, but it was roughly the length of a longsword. I took the wooden sword from her and gave it a few experimental swings using only my wrist.
As expected, the balance is completely different from a steel blade. The grip was also on the shorter side.
“...Now that I think about it, this is my first time using a wooden sword.”
“Huh? Don’t they use wooden swords in the Western Regions?”
Hye-ryeong stared at me in genuine surprise.
Yeah, that must sound pretty strange to people from the murim world.
The sword-crazed kid standing next to her was giving me the exact same look—‘How do you even train without wooden swords?’ written all over his face.
“We have specialized training swords made of iron. They don’t have an edge, and the blade is extremely narrow. It feels more like a metal rod than a sword, so it’s actually less lethal than a wooden one.”
A sword so thin that neither cuts nor thrusts would land properly. Because the edge was practically nonexistent, it was nearly impossible to get hurt during practice. It was the weapon I’d swung until my palms bled back when I was a squire. Not that I got to use it for more than a couple of months before being thrown into real combat.
Still, nothing beat it for building a solid foundation in swordsmanship. Adapting to the standard-issue sword later had been a real pain, though.
“I’d love to see a Western sword someday!”
“Maybe you’ll get the chance one day.”
Unless a trade ship happens to bring one over, that’s never going to happen.
“Alright, time to loosen up a bit.”
I walked slowly toward the center of the training ground. Hye-ryeong followed behind me, then suddenly let out a small gasp as if she’d just remembered something. She spun around with a sharp twist and spoke in a voice full of apology.
“I’m sorry! I almost ended up stealing a glance at your martial arts!”
“Don’t worry about it. I can’t exactly perform anything grand enough to be called ‘martial arts’ in the Central Plains sense right now anyway.”
Is watching someone else train considered taboo in the murim?
Now that I thought about it, there had been some unwritten rule like that. The West wasn’t nearly as strict unless it involved secret sword techniques.
“So feel free to watch. It’s fine.”
“Still, that feels a little...”
“If it bothers you that much, just keep your back turned.”
“Umm...”
Hye-ryeong let out a small groan, clearly torn between the murim’s unspoken rules and her own curiosity. I already gave permission. Why overthink it? Just watch.
She really was a proper murim person in the strangest ways.
“Then… excuse me!”
“No need to make such a big deal out of it.”
Time to give this a swing.
I closed my eyes and gripped the wooden sword with both hands. The texture was noticeably different from steel—the hard, dry feel of wood felt strangely alien.
I stepped forward with my right leg, bent my knees slightly, and raised the sword to head height, keeping the blade perfectly horizontal. It was one of the fundamental stances I’d learned.
From there, the core of knightly swordsmanship was to rotate the blade either clockwise or counterclockwise depending on the situation, transitioning smoothly into a defensive posture.
I flowed through the forms—high, middle, low, middle, high—cutting and thrusting through the air before finally lowering the sword.
My body feels so heavy.
I took a deep breath, feeling the unpleasant stickiness of sweat soaking through my clothes. Even moving this slowly and just holding basic stances left me drenched in cold sweat. My condition was still terrible.
“This is the basic swordsmanship taught in the West—what you people call the Western Regions.”
“Don’t they have forms in the West?”
“They do, but they’re mostly exclusive to the schools from the Greek region.”
Just thinking about those Greek bastards still makes my blood boil. Their swordsmanship was the absolute pinnacle of incomprehensibility.
Who the hell tries to express the Pythagorean theorem through sword forms?
I clicked my tongue, remembering the spar I’d once had with a knight from the Pythagorean sword school. It hadn’t been entirely useless, but it certainly wasn’t a pleasant memory.
“That’s amazing! Western swordsmanship really is completely different from murim sword arts!”
I wasn’t sure if it was that surprising, but I scratched my head and nodded anyway. Different was different. It was also why I’d never even considered that I might be inside a wuxia novel.
“That’s about all I can manage for today. Sorry, but let’s call it here.”
“Okay!”
I planned to keep coming back to the training ground whenever I could to loosen up my body. It was far better than just lying around like some invalid.
I wiped the hilt of the wooden sword clean with my sleeve and returned it to the weapon rack.
After a week of rehabilitation training, I felt like I had recovered about two-thirds of my former condition.
Whether it was thanks to the medicine the sect leader of the Hainan Sword Sect had given me to help restore my meridians, my body was improving far faster than I’d expected. At this rate, I’d be completely back to normal within another week.
There was no better news for someone in my position. The faster I recovered, the more time I’d have to prepare for the Demonic Cult’s inevitable moves.
“Here’s a towel!”
“You really don’t have to wait on me like this. Just sit still.”
“As the sect leader’s disciple, it’s only natural that I take care of our sect’s honored guest!”
That was technically correct, but she wasn’t a servant. Why was she doing all this?
Because she kept looking after me, the other disciples were starting to feel awkward. Their gazes toward me were growing more and more suspicious by the day.
At this rate, I was going to earn the title of ‘The Shameless Westerner Who Seduced the Sect Leader’s Youngest Disciple.’ That was the last thing I wanted. It wasn’t that I disliked women, but I wasn’t depraved enough to look at my benefactor that way. As a knight, I still had some sense of propriety toward ladies.
Though to be honest, the only women I’d ever met who could even be called ladies were a handful of burly female knights.
“You sure have a silver tongue.”
“Hehe.”
Hye-ryeong just laughed sheepishly and brushed off my scolding. That must be the invincible privilege of being the spoiled youngest disciple—able to dodge any real reprimand with cuteness. She must have gotten used to it.
Apparently thinking I’d let it slide, she glanced at me for a moment before flapping her arms excitedly and shouting, “Mister! Let’s go eat dinner!”
“I heard you, so stop making such a fuss. Are you a penguin or something?”
“Penguin? What’s that?”
“There’s an animal that looks just like you.”
The way she acted was exactly like a penguin—full of curiosity, flapping her arms whenever she got excited. Even her hair color was similar. If a penguin turned into a human, I bet it would look just like her.
“It’s not a weird animal, right?”
She sounded like she was thinking, What if it’s some ugly creature?
Is that really what you’re worried about?
“It’s a cute animal, so don’t worry.”
“Are you flirting with me right now? I’m not that easy, you know?”
How did we end up there?
I really wanted to smack her on the head. But as a guest, I couldn’t hit the sect leader’s youngest disciple. Causing any misunderstanding would only make things harder for me. I forced my fist back down and turned away.
“Let’s just go eat.”
“Let’s go together!”
I walked the now-familiar path to the dining hall. The place was packed with martial artists who had just finished training. Looked like we’d arrived right at the busiest time.
We barely managed to find seats. Hye-ryeong, who had been eagerly waiting for mealtime, stared at the kitchen with sparkling eyes. The tables for us would be set soon.
While waiting for our food, we did what we always did—light conversation. Or rather, Hye-ryeong chattered nonstop while I responded here and there.
We were finishing our meal and getting ready to leave when I sensed someone approaching me. My hand instinctively moved to my waist.
Oh right. No sword.
“Greetings.”
A fist salute, huh.
I awkwardly returned the gesture and looked at the young martial artist standing before me.
“Mu-gwang? What brings you here?”
When I heard the sharp tone, I glanced at Hye-ryeong. She was staring at the guy called Mu-gwang with clear distaste on her face.
So after the troublemaker girl, now comes the troublemaker guy?
“Senior Sister Hye-ryeong, may I have a moment to speak with this young hero?”
The young man called Mu-gwang asked for her permission in an earnest voice. The atmosphere suggested he had something he absolutely needed to say to me.
“Didn’t Master Uncle specifically warn you not to bother our guest?”
“How could I possibly hold myself back when I heard that a man who walks the path of the sword has come from the Western Regions!”
Ah, so that’s what this is about.
I clicked my tongue at the appearance of the classic wuxia trope—the sword-obsessed maniac.