Chapter 49
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Life at the Martial Academy (1)
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If someone asked whether I knew much about wuxia, I could confidently answer.
No.
I'd only read a few works that even web novel fans come across at some point, and even those were so vast that I'd only made it halfway through.
Plus, even those famous ones didn't seem to be what people called "orthodox wuxia."
Sometimes in the comments, there were these pseudo-martial world folks yelling that it wasn't true orthodox wuxia.
I had no idea what orthodox wuxia even was, but it seemed there were some strict standards.
I'd entered the wuxia world tempted by the rewards, but now worries were creeping in belatedly.
Wuxia had so many varieties, so I hoped it would at least be one I could understand.
The first thing that caught my eye after entering the quest was a massive marketplace teeming with people.
And I immediately got to experience the effect of the translation skill I'd acquired.
"What the hell, so many damn people..."
"Hey, for merchants like us, this is good business. Why complain?"
"Argh! Can't sell shit without a spot for my mat!"
"...J-Just a bit further in—"
I watched two men laden with huge packs on their shoulders brush past me.
It was strange.
This was clearly a language I didn't know, yet I understood every word.
I even felt like I could converse in it.
"This is less translation and more—"
Like interpretation?
Or since it's called translation, maybe I can read and write too?
"..."
Time would tell.
I wandered the market, nearly swept away by the crowd.
Wuxia was centered on China, so crowds like this made sense.
"Whoa..."
Even as I was pushed along, I didn't miss the scenery around me.
I'd done plenty of quests, but this felt like the most novel world yet.
All the previous ones had been based on the modern era at their core.
A world with electricity and roads that I knew well.
But not here.
Every single step revealed things utterly unlike the modern world.
People in cotton clothes or ornate silk garments.
Swords and spears casually tied at waists.
Even kids who looked too young to be out carried small daggers at their hips, striding boldly through the throng.
When I came to, I realized my own clothes matched theirs.
A unfamiliar sword hung at my waist too.
The sea of people flowed past the market up a flight of stairs.
Then they naturally queued up at the end of a long line.
Swept along by the crowd, I'd unwittingly joined it.
What was this line for?
Curious, and sensing a quest vibe, I stood in line while scanning my surroundings.
"Phew... I'm nervous."
"Nervous? At our level, we're guaranteed, right?"
As we climbed the stairs, the proportion of merchants and women dwindled, replaced by armed men.
At the top was a wide clearing packed with people.
A man sat at a desk, scribbling away busily.
He radiated "I'm exhausted."
When our eyes met, he asked quietly.
"...Examinee?"
"Pardon?"
"Are you here for the Martial Academy entrance exam?"
"...Yes."
I had no clue, but blurted it out anyway.
Still, it felt right.
I spotted the examinees at the front of the clearing and was convinced.
Those guys were the leads.
Not only did they have an aura and looks different from ordinary folk, but their personalities overflowed with flair.
It was always like this.
In any story or quest, the protagonist, their crew, and the heroines always stood out in appearance and character.
If that held true here, this place—the Martial Academy—felt like it would be the main stage for this quest.
But—
"...What's the Martial Academy?"
The man handing me a tag numbered '421' looked at me like I was absurd, scanning me up and down.
"...It's where you learn martial arts. What... Next."
He gave me a pitiful look, like I was some poor soul, roughly explained, then turned to the next person.
I pinned the tag to my chest.
Seemed like proof of being an examinee.
A place to learn martial arts.
Hearing that, the vast clearing, the elder on the distant high platform with a beard nearly to his navel, and the burly men around him started looking different.
All martial artists who used martial arts, no doubt.
"Ahem! Attention!"
A burly man climbed onto the platform and bellowed.
The clearing, buzzing just a tad too loud, fell silent in an instant.
All eyes locked on the man atop the platform.
It was due to the overwhelming pressure he exuded.
Like if a bear showed up in a café.
Everyone frozen, afraid even a twitch or sound might provoke it, staring tensely.
Exactly like that.
And sure enough, the guy even looked like a bear.
"When your number is called, come forward and demonstrate your best technique!"
Best technique.
Techniques were the moves of martial arts, obviously.
And I sure as hell didn't have any.
Sudden hurdle; I fell into thought.
Meanwhile, the bear-like man called numbers 1 through 5.
"Isn't that the second disciple of the Wudang Sect!"
"Heard he got kicked out of the Heavenly Martial Academy over some impure heterosexual issue..."
"Nangong Clan sent someone too!"
"Why are elites like this at a minor Martial Academy...?"
"Next to him, from the Mount Hua Sect!"
"..."
I glanced at the two guys excitedly narrating each one.
I'd seen that trope in wuxia novels—guys spilling all the info dramatically. Didn't expect it in real life.
Honestly, helpful though.
I had no idea who anyone was, but now I got the gist.
And it wasn't just those two.
Every called examinee drew a flurry of info from the crowd, like they were competing to know more.
When number 5 was called, even the chatty ones hushed.
"That one's..."
"Wow..."
Skin white as snow, white hair, mystical blue eyes.
Even her elegant movements exuded nobility.
Her sharp, frost-like gaze wasn't a flaw; the gold-embroidered silk robes weren't overkill.
That kind of beauty.
"Lady Seol-Young..."
Someone murmured her name, and it clicked.
She was the target for this quest.
"Begin!"
At the bear-man's shout, examinees 1 through 5 swung their weapons.
"Ah."
Something was different.
I knew zilch about martial arts, but even I could tell those five weren't ordinary.
They wielded weapons like extensions of their bodies, and whether from inner power or whatever, the hard ground bore deep sword scars their techniques couldn't withstand.
Watching them perform made me swallow dryly nonstop.
The outcome was predictable.
"All pass. Next."
Next, he called 6 through 15.
More examinees demoed techniques simultaneously.
One failure among them.
But the real issue came next.
"16 through 50."
Now calling in batches.
Probably not even bothering to look closely.
Indeed, only two passed out of that horde.
Then 51 through 100: zero passes.
"No clue..."
Would I make it?
Sometimes scrubs passed, standouts failed.
No clear standard.
Maybe inner power was key.
I didn't have any, couldn't even sense it.
Anxiety grew as my turn neared.
With groups demoing at once, the test flew by; soon empty spaces dotted the clearing after mere dozens of minutes.
"401 through 450!"
I checked my '421' tag, stepped forward, and took position before the platform.
Atop it: the long-bearded elder and bear-man; behind, passersby and some older adults staring intently.
"Begin!"
At his word, nearby examinees swung their best moves in unison.
I drew my sword too.
A fine blade, sharp and alive.
Who'd have thought I'd wield one for real.
My best move.
No matter what, only zombie-neck-severing strikes from recent weeks came to mind.
Screw it. I adjusted stance and swung with all I had.
Imagining a zombie ahead, as fast and hard as possible.
A half-assed swing would've clanged off a neck bone—couldn't be slow.
No room for other noise.
Only the whistle of air slicing through.
My sole specialty from that brutal zombie world.
As expected, the sword felt different from the jungle.
A clean whoosh cutting air.
And above all, the synergy of Swiftness and Strength at level 3, Weapon Technique at 4.
Right now, I could probably behead a bear, not just a zombie.
The thought made me glance at the bear-like man.
He was looking down at me.
Our eyes met; reality hit.
Yeah, a bear's too much.
"Stop. Calling passers."
The man slowly surveyed us.
"421 passes. Rest fail."
Luckily, I made it.