Chapter 26
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: For Life at the Imperial Palace Martial Academy
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It felt so uncomfortable, like wearing clothes I'd never put on before.
People really should stick to what they're best at.
So I simply sliced through the incoming staff with a sword finger strike.
Snap!
"Gasp?!"
When I effortlessly cut through the sturdy staff, his eyes widened like saucers.
He followed up with a second attack from the opposite side, but I sliced that one away just as easily.
Now he looked ridiculous, clutching short sticks in both hands.
I didn't even want to look at those pathetic little things, so I snapped them in half.
Snap!
"Eek! Ch-cheating! This is cheating! Instructor! That guy's hiding a weapon on him!"
"A weapon? Crazy bastard."
I bared my torso, showing everyone there was nothing on me.
The people who saw my body gulped dryly and muttered.
"His body's the weapon."
"With a physique like that, it does feel like cheating."
"Terrifying. How the hell did he even survive to build a body like that?"
"Looks so delicate, but his body's a total monster. Monster."
My naturally humbling physique made the opponent toss aside what was left of his staff and dive straight into the mud pit under the log without a second thought.
He had surprisingly quick judgment.
"Oh? Running away?"
I growled lowly at the guy, who looked a decade older in an instant.
"Hey, buddy. I did some checking around. They do bare-handed brawling training here every three months, right?"
From the mud pit, he looked up at me with a 'So what?' expression.
I infused my words with killing intent.
"Look forward to it. I'll remember you."
Crack!!
The staff in my grip crumbled under my grip strength and split in two.
Seeing that, his face drained of color.
"......"
He looked like he was seriously considering quitting right then and there.
After climbing down from the log, Yang Cho-gun approached me with a worried tone.
"You alright?"
"What about?"
"Your body."
I hadn't circulated protective aura, so my whole body was covered in bruises from the staff blows.
I covered them with my clothes and shrugged.
"This much is nothing."
"You got beaten like a dusty rug in the rain."
"You haven't really taken a proper hit from me yet, have you?"
"No thanks. I'm not as tough as you."
"Hahaha! Keep taking hits, and you'll toughen up like me."
"Pass. I like my flexible body the way it is."
And with that, the sparring evaluation ended.
After a short break, the horsemanship test came next.
Fortunately, they didn't make us do crazy stuff like standing on a galloping horse like Mongol cavalry to shoot arrows, or hanging off the side.
Just walk, stop, turn left, turn right, trot, and jump low obstacles.
Since the Central Plains have vast flatlands, cavalry has always been crucial.
The military classics say one cavalryman equals eight infantry on flat ground, four in rough terrain.
There's even a record of 17 Jin cavalry routing 2,000 Song infantry.
So mounted combat is essential in this era's wars.
Even for martial artists eating imperial rice, basic riding was a must.
Those who'd never touched a horse aside, most passed smoothly.
The next test was the Thousand Character Classic.
Surprisingly, it was the toughest hurdle for most Imperial Palace Martial Academy applicants.
Yang Cho-gun looked a bit tense too.
He'd somehow pulled out a copy and was memorizing it on the sly.
To me, he looked like an elementary kid reciting the alphabet—pretty cute.
Martial artists who work with their bodies found rolling around easier than this.
Once the test started, it was like a spy thriller.
Guys hiding notes behind clothes hems, in brush handles, tattooed on forearms, engraved on sword blades—methods galore.
The instructors seemed to acknowledge the era's killer illiteracy rates and didn't watch too closely.
With the final hurdle cleared, we decided to spend the three days until the acceptance posting back at the inn, honing our skills.
But when we got to the inn for a late dinner, familiar faces dotted the crowd.
Turned out they'd been staying here too.
They flinched when they saw us.
"Plenty of familiar faces. Staying at the same inn?"
"Yeah. We were so focused on training here, we barely went out—must be why."
"Makes sense. Not many places for lodging and meals around."
So we had an awkward dinner with them.
Whispers buzzed here and there.
Same school, monster, that guy's sword, etc.
Yang Cho-gun kept glancing around, like he had something important to ask.
But with the crowd, he couldn't open his mouth.
I suggested moving.
"Place is noisy anyway. How about a drink in my room?"
"Sounds good."
I called the waiter to bring food and booze to my room, then headed up.
As we climbed to the second floor, the first-floor dining hall erupted in cheers.
Guess they found us uncomfortable too.
The waiter soon brought the food and drinks, and we wrapped up the eventful day with hearty dishes and booze.
The liquor was Tiger Bone Brew, the inn's priciest.
Infused with tiger bones, it packed a punch.
Waiter said it's great for men, but sadly, no use for me.
"Good stuff. Another round."
"Sure."
Once we were nicely buzzed, Yang Cho-gun asked cautiously.
"About you... what's your deal?"
"What do you mean?"
"Righteous faction? Evil?"
"Does it matter?"
"Just curious."
"What's your take on the line between righteous and evil?"
"Mindset? Martial arts used? Weapons?"
"Right. Lots of reasons, but plain righteous folk judge by arts and weapons. You use Western weapons, not righteous ones—so evil faction?"
"......"
Yang Cho-gun looked bitter.
Coming from the famed Hainan Sect, he had some bias against evil factions.
"Righteous types label anything outside their approved weapons as evil, right?"
"Can't argue. I braced for that when I took my master. Anyway, which side are you? Spill it straight."
Glug glug.
I poured more booze and said.
"Honestly, not righteous."
"Figured. Felt a sinister edge in your qi today—evil arts, as expected. And your skill's at least peak first-rate. Right?"
I dodged revealing my true level.
"Won't deny it."
Denial is affirmation's opposite.
Yang Cho-gun eyed me with awe and envy—me, same age, peak first-rate.
Peak first-rates get top treatment anywhere.
"Impressive. Not from a famed house, and already peak first-rate at your age..."
He downed his cup, pondered, then asked carefully.
"Then why go to Dragon Academy if you're evil, not Demon Dragon? Even peak masters don't have two lives."
Sharp question.
Would suspect myself in his shoes.
'Kid's got bounty hunter instincts. Sharp where it counts.'
"True I'm not righteous, and peak first-rate. Why skip Demon Dragon?"
"Why?"
"My mortal enemy’s there."
"Ah, that explains it. Why hide your qi then?"
Thinking back boiled my blood; I slammed a cup of Tiger Bone Brew and refilled.
"Some bald monk there—didn't want him spotting my non-righteous qi. Questions answered?"
"Got it."
"Alright, curiosity satisfied? Drop it and drink."
"Last one. Pure curiosity. Why insist on the academy with your skills? Won't help a peak first-rate much."
"'Learning knows no end; accumulating knowledge builds treasure.'"
"Quoting classics now? I slaved over the Thousand Character Classic today..."
"Read some books yourself."
I brushed it off vaguely.
No need to spill my full plans.
"Enough chit-chat. Booze before the snacks get cold."
"Sorry. You're enviable, though."
"What now?"
"Peak first-rate at your age."
"You're no slouch either. Grass is always greener."
"Maybe, but I always get flak."
"Never dissed you once."
"Evil knows evil, huh?"
"Exactly. Now we're talking. Heh heh."
"Guess I'll play evil from now on."
"Righteous, evil—what's it matter? World's one big family, right? Cheers, forget the trivia—let's drink till we skew!"
"Yeah!"
"To our toast!"
"Great!"
We stood, raised our cups high.
"To a bright life at the Imperial Palace Martial Academy!"
"To it!"
We downed them together, guzzling Tiger Bone Brew till sunrise.