Chapter 7
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Bet with the Sword Ghost
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Exactly one week since I started training.
Today, too, Jayvolg had been spouting nonsense since my morning walk.
"Good morning, young master. Today, we'll learn about imperial swordsmanship. This is a style open even to regular soldiers, created by someone who advanced the empire's sword arts through the ages..."
"Do you know what?"
"What is it?"
"That this isn't lesson time—it's my walk time."
"Ah..."
Jayvolg froze on the spot, as if his heart had stopped.
His eyes slowly shifted.
Once to the flower field on Lactea Mountain, once to me.
No way he didn't know that...?
He really had a unique way of thinking. But that lasted only a moment before Jayvolg's face twitched.
"Sword training knows no bounds of time, young master."
I knew it.
If it got any worse, he'd barge in before bedtime.
And if it escalated further, he'd show up even when I was using the restroom.
Wasn't Jayvolg the true Sword Ghost in every sense?
Deciding to take him as my teacher had been the right choice, after all.
As groundwork for that, I was constantly picking at everything he said.
Now, just a light nudge and he'd topple over.
I'd finally met the minimum requirements to handle Jayvolg to some degree, so maybe it was time to start...?
I broached the subject slowly with Jayvolg.
"Jayvolg, like I've said before, I'm not interested in sword training."
"If the blood of the Pador family has no interest in the sword, what should it pursue instead? That would be neglecting your duty, young master."
Anyone would think he was the one with Pador blood.
In a way, he cared about me, but in another, he wasted time on useless things.
He was pushing through lessons that didn't suit my body or aptitude at all.
This body wasn't made for swords—it was perfect for the Sichuan Tang Clan's martial arts.
In the past, my longing and admiration for the sword, combined with narrow vision, had blinded me to everything else. I'd swung it day and night.
That's how I learned firsthand that it didn't suit me.
Sure, I could wield it if I had to, but my nature leaned elsewhere. Toward using my hands directly or handling throwing daggers.
That matched my aptitude.
If someone with real insight, not Jayvolg, had taught me, they'd have quickly seen my lack of sword talent and switched paths.
Still, just in case, I tried persuading Jayvolg one more time.
"Why not do something else? The world has more weapons than just swords, right?"
"That again. You really don't get tired of it, do you, young master?"
That's my line.
Ignoring my feelings, Jayvolg clenched his fist and raised it high toward the sky.
"The sword is nobler and greater than any other weapon. Nothing can compare!"
What a showoff. Total showoff.
That was such an outdated, narrow-minded view.
People are all different. Arm length, flexibility, innate talent—everything varies. That's why diverse martial arts emerged and evolved.
Even in the Tang Clan, hidden weapons were famous, but if someone showed aptitude elsewhere, they pushed them hard in that direction. Forcing something mismatched never worked.
But to blindly demand sword training?
Was there any stupider way?
Jayvolg had passion, but as a teacher, he was a total flop.
I ignored his ranting and headed for Lactea Mountain.
The spot I chose was deep and secluded. I'd scouted it beforehand, so no worries about prying eyes.
Perfect for settling my bet with Jayvolg.
I stopped only after reaching the waterfall.
Then, reciting to Jayvolg:
"I'll be here for half a day, so go if you get bored."
"Not bored at all. Rest a bit more, and we'll do sword lesson in the evening."
Jayvolg leaned against a tree, staring at me like a statue.
So annoying.
In some ways, no one was more diligent than him.
Moreover, Jayvolg was upright at heart.
Even most knights from the main family served me dutifully, but some looked down on me.
I was the oddball and troublemaker of the Pador family.
No words for that.
In martial houses, strength judged everything over bloodline.
Respect came from power.
But Jayvolg had none of that.
He was utterly devoted. The problem was the wrong direction.
In his current state, he wasn't a villain... but we couldn't coexist.
So, how to awaken Jayvolg...?
Easier than I thought. Train in front of him.
But not with a sword—with the other weapons he so despised.
Paaang...!
My hand slapped the air.
No green glow yet, but energy swirled around my hand.
I was more than satisfied with this.
Probably no one in martial history had reached this realm so fast.
After that, I swiftly demonstrated Tang Clan arts.
These were forms I'd customized with my insights, tailored perfectly to my body.
I flowed through the Sichuan Tang Clan's martial arts like a waterwheel.
And then...
Shiiik!
I flung needles like lightning, embedding them in a tree.
"Hm..."
The needles, perfectly forming a circle in ten directions, told the tale.
Ten Fingers Throwing Knives.
I'd achieved it.
Ten Fingers Throwing Knives meant striking targets simultaneously with hidden weapons from all ten fingers.
In the Tang Clan, mastering this earned official entry recognition.
The bare minimum entry, but even blood clansmen needed at least a year of practice.
And I'd cut it down... to one week.
If the clan head saw a novice like me reach this in days, he'd kneel and beg me as a son-in-law.
Still disappointing, though.
Half the needles hadn't even pierced fully—they should've gone clean through.
Power was lacking... too lacking.
But enough to draw Jayvolg's attention.
His usually expressionless eyes went wide.
"Young master? What was that just now...?"
"This?"
I shook my hand and struck the tree again.
Needles embedded identically, forming a flower-like pattern.
My Dark Spirit Flying Dagger Technique.
Jayvolg's jaw dropped.
"Why do you know something like that? How could a young master of a knightly bloodline use assassin techniques...?"
Expected reaction.
Outdated Jayvolg—that's why you won't make it.
I shrugged and said,
"So what? As long as you're strong, does the path matter?"
Jayvolg hesitated, then replied,
"...I grant you that, but you should wield a sword. You're Pador blood."
I barely held back laughter.
Pador blood can't use hidden weapons?
Naive thinking.
Humans do anything to win.
Like the famed tales in the martial world: a Wudang master stabbed in the outhouse by an assassin in the cesspit, or a Shaolin monk turning vengeful apostate against the demonic cult.
But using hidden weapons is cowardly?
Those same hypocrites use every trick when their lives hang by a thread.
When life and victory are on the line, people resort to anything—yet stuck in rigid molds like that...
I'd dangled the bait, and he bit hard.
Meeting me was Jayvolg's lucky break.
With that lawless stance, he'd hit a wall eventually.
In my first life, he gained some skill but never matched his academy top graduate potential.
He'd blamed himself for delaying his knight duties teaching me.
Now I saw—it was all his fault.
"People should train to their aptitude. That's why this suits me."
"I see why you've eyed other paths than the sword. You have talent, no doubt. Enough to justify it. But young master!"
Jayvolg stared with a face smeared in misguided conviction like mud.
"If you truly applied this talent to the sword...! You could be a knight. No, greater! If you walk the martial path, young master, pick a proper weapon! Otherwise... you'll hit your limit."
Thanks for saying that.
More stuck than me, aged beyond years.
Smiling, I tossed Jayvolg bait.
"Really? Then want to bet?"
"A bet?"
"If you think so, teacher, show me the sword's might. Who knows? I might drop this nonsense after seeing it."
Jayvolg pondered briefly.
Decision made, he sighed.
"Fine. Only way to change your mind."
"What'll the bet be?"
"Anything goes."
That confident, huh?
Absolute self-assurance.
It armored Jayvolg completely.
Makes sense. Elite knight path all the way.
Academy top graduate—future bright as day.
I'd met plenty like him in the martial world.
Orthodox phoenixes, unorthodox dragons, demonic sword ghosts.
Overrating themselves, frogs in wells playing king.
That type's pride pierced the heavens.
And I specialized in crippling them.
Pointing at his sword, I said,
"How about this: You use sword, I use non-sword weapon. Fight till the other surrenders. Simple, right?"
Crack.
A vein bulged on Jayvolg's temple.
Knights lived on pride, basically.
Few young ones resist a thunderbolt boy's taunt.
To him, I looked like a noble tarnishing knight honor, looking down.
Exactly as intended...
Don't hold back—snap, Jayvolg.
You're a knight, right?
But was it because I was his student? Or Pador scion?
He swallowed his anger once more.
He said,
"Young master, a knight fighting you doesn't make sense."
"Scared? Disappointing... Expected more from the academy top."
Boy's mockery.
Could ignore, but after all my prodding...
Smoke practically rose from Jayvolg.
He couldn't hold back anymore.
Sure enough, fists clenched, he replied,
"Fine. If you insist, I'll show you. Think of it as a lesson. But real swords risk injury, so I'll use..."
Jayvolg scanned around, picked a suitable cut log, tested its flex, and nodded.
"This."
My lip curled.
"That okay? Looks like it'll snap."
"Knights are strong, young master."
"Sure, sure..."
"If I win, promise me one thing."
"Anything."
Jayvolg chuckled wryly at his mock wooden sword and recited,
"Lose, and attend lessons diligently, no complaints. That's my condition."
"Obviously. I swear on Pador honor."
"And you, young master? What do you want?"
Now the main point.
Since we'd bet, time for all demands.
Couldn't boot him unreasonably—he was my sword teacher now.
No thanks to another.
Plus, he'd treated me sincerely before, so I owed him.
Why not... put Jayvolg under me instead?
Bit extreme, but.
Raising my index finger, I listed demands.
"First, if I win, drop the sword worship."
"Tch... Yes, fine."
"Second, if I win, all sword lesson time is mine to use freely."
"Quite bold."
"Has to be. Family won't know anyway."
"Agreed. Last one?"
I raised my middle finger.
"If I win, Jayvolg—swear your knight's oath to me. The one you haven't yet."
"......"
Jayvolg's pride crumpled; brows furrowed.
Knight's oath.
A lifelong vow knights made to their eternal lord.
Once sworn, they served till death like a king.
Basically, I demanded a promising knight pledge loyalty to a fifteen-year-old boy.
No wonder he'd rage.
Jayvolg, brows still knit, replied,
"...Young master, even Pador blood aside—don't tarnish knight honor."
"Not confident? Oh well."
I pouted and whistled.
Jayvolg's reason snapped; his glare turned feral.
Who could endure such insult?
Knight honor was sacred, untouchable even by nobles—unwritten rule.
Even this much, he endured out of respect for Pador blood.
But now, his limit.
Veins popped on his hand gripping the wood.
"Looks like you need some discipline, young master."
Perfect—hooked proper.
"Shall we start?"
I widened the gap slightly with Jayvolg, then kicked off.
Taking proper rhythm.
Prep for Shadow Step, Tang Clan's movement art.
Jayvolg frowned, deeming it reckless, and lectured,
"Young master, in combat stance, that posture won't transmit power properly."
"Really? Feels comfy to me."
"Haa..."
Really grating on him.
To him, utterly demonic method.
"Young master, this is part of the lesson. First, sword grip: back straight, left foot forward slight, right diagonal back—plant firm like an axle."
Jayvolg launched into a speech, ignoring the bet.
I dug my ear, provoking.
Shut up. So noisy.
From now, not Deyan—the Dark Venerable would teach him.
"Jayvolg, we're sparring, not lessoning."
Jayvolg sighed deeply, raising his branch.
Sudden informal speech stung more; face hardened.
"Young master, knights value character. But since you don't know... I'll show you."
"That's the spirit."
Listen and watch well.
Jayvolg, the start of priceless lesson—to sink into your bones and flesh.
I'll enlighten your rotten martial path stance.