Chapter 65: I Have a Bad Feeling About This. A Very Bad Feeling (3)
Chapter 65: I Have a Bad Feeling About This. A Very Bad Feeling (3)
Patrick suspected that if he didn't let April follow him, she might leave a suicide note saying, 'I am sorry for being unable to be of help to the Young Master,' and take her own life.
She was exactly the kind of girl who would do that.
‘Ugh, is there no other way? This messes up my plans.’
Originally, he had intended for April to oversee the soldiers' training while he was away. But if April was coming with him...
‘I suppose it can’t be helped. Besides, the time has come anyway.’
When the best option isn't available, taking the next best one was the pragmatic way to handle things.
Patrick looked at his father and spoke.
“Father, I have a request.”
“What is it?”
“Tomorrow...”
After hearing Patrick’s words, Baron Schneider’s expression shifted to one of slight surprise. He asked back, “Are you serious?”
“Yes. Since both April and I will be gone, this is something that can no longer be delayed.”
“……”
Baron Schneider thought for a moment before nodding. “Understood. I’ve already left that matter in your hands, so I will follow your judgment.”
“Thank you. Then we shall proceed tomorrow.”
And so, a fairly significant agenda was decided on the spot.
* * *
The next day.
Patrick arrived at the training ground for the first time in a while. He had been too busy preparing for his studies abroad to visit lately, but today was different.
Appearing with April by his side, Patrick addressed the soldiers.
“Everyone, fall in!”
At Patrick’s command, all two hundred soldiers lined up in unison. Looking at the soldiers who were radiating a sharp, blade-like aura, Patrick spoke.
“Today, we will conduct a special training session.”
“Special?”
“I wonder what he’s planning?”
As the soldiers whispered among themselves, Patrick called out, “Sanson, step forward.”
“Yes, sir!”
“We will begin sparring now. Jackson.”
“Yes!”
“You will face Sanson. The duel will be conducted with wooden swords, and Aura is strictly forbidden.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Yes, sir!”
The two answered vigorously and took their stances.
As soon as Patrick gave the signal to start, the two charged forward and collided.
Clack!
After the initial clash, the two stepped back, and four wooden swords began to weave through the air as if dancing.
Clack-clack! Clack! Thud!
‘Good.’
Watching the scene, Patrick was reminded of fond memories. A very long time ago, the disciples of the Twin Dragon Sect used to swing their wooden swords just as diligently before him.
The swordsmanship the soldiers were currently learning was the Double Serpent Sword Dance, the introductory and primary technique of the Twin Dragon Sect.
He had taught it to the soldiers under the name "Dancing Sword," but it was originally an introductory martial art designed to lead into the Twin Dragons Eight Sword Styles, and it had quite a history behind its creation.
The Double Serpent Sword Dance.
Legend had it that the Founding Patriarch of the Twin Dragon Sect created this technique in his later years. Initially, there had been no need for it. He was already one of the strongest masters in the Martial World using only the Twin Dragons Eight Sword Styles.
However, after establishing the sect and accepting disciples, he came to a realization.
[Why can’t these kids do it?]
No matter how kindly he taught them or how strictly he scolded them, the disciples he took in could not properly execute the Twin Dragons Eight Sword Styles.
Some suffered from Qi Deviation while trying to force the movements, while others quit on their own, claiming they couldn't keep up. Only then did he realize:
[Is my martial art perhaps a bit difficult?]
Having realized this only in his later years after dozens of disciples had fallen into Qi Deviation, he hurriedly created a lower-tier sword method.
That was how the Double Serpent Sword Dance was born.
As the name suggested, it wasn't a practical combat technique but a sword dance—a type of performance. It was a training dance created solely as a process to enter the Twin Dragons Eight Sword Styles, with practical combat utility completely excluded.
It was meant to be a stepping stone so that two snakes could one day grow into dragons and ascend to heaven.
However, for ordinary people who couldn't master the Twin Dragons Eight Sword Styles, practicing this was their best option. Eventually, after the Founding Patriarch’s death, it became the primary martial art of the Twin Dragon Sect.
Could a sect whose primary martial art was a performance dance with no combat utility remain powerful?
After that, the Twin Dragon Sect plummeted into a third-rate sect in the blink of an eye—until the moment Jincheon joined.
In the process of refining the Twin Dragon Sect’s martial arts, Jincheon modified the Double Serpent Sword Dance to make it practical for combat. While preserving the introductory process that was the Founding Patriarch’s legacy, he infused it with actual combat functionality.
The fact that Jincheon was able to achieve this was proof that his insight into martial arts had reached the same level as the Founding Patriarch’s.
The soldiers of the Schneider Territory were the ones who had been passed down this new Double Serpent Sword Dance.
Since the fundamental form of the swordsmanship was a dance, its movements were fluid and flamboyant. When two people who had mastered the same Double Serpent Sword Dance sparred, it created a brilliant and exquisite spectacle, as if they were performing a choreographed dance.
Just like right now.
‘The little chicks have grown quite a bit.’
Sanson, in particular, had recently begun to show signs of breaking away from the fixed forms. Like a snake shedding its skin, he was showing signs of transcending his current self.
Today was the day for Patrick to implement what he had prepared for someone like Sanson.
Clack-clack!
When roughly fifty exchanges had passed.
“Urgh...!”
Jackson grew flustered by Sanson’s increasingly rapid sword speed.
Then, Sanson’s sword moved in an unpredictable direction, striking Jackson’s wooden sword from below and sending it flying upward.
As a result, Jackson’s arms were thrown high as if he were cheering, leaving his front wide open.
In the next instant, Sanson’s wooden sword turned into a streak of light...
“Good work.”
“Phew...”
Jackson let out a sigh as he felt Sanson’s wooden sword resting against his neck.
Despite it being a wooden sword, the strike had flown in with the momentum and speed of a blade that could decapitate him, only to lose all its force the moment it touched his skin.
The territory’s soldiers now knew that this was by no means an easy feat.
“Match over.”
As Patrick declared the winner, Sanson said with a smile, “Good work.”
“You too, sir.”
The two were about to step aside for the next round. However...
“Sanson, stay.”
“Pardon?”
“Stay.”
“...Yes. Understood.”
Sanson thought Patrick’s command was a bit strange, but he stayed put. He certainly still had strength left and felt he could handle a few more opponents.
“Gerick, step forward. You’re against Sanson.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Begin immediately!”
At Patrick’s command, Gerick immediately raised his sword and clashed with Sanson.
Once again, their wooden swords intertwined brilliantly, and the match was decided after forty exchanges.
“Good work.”
“You too, sir.”
And as soon as the match ended, Patrick...
“Next, Taylor, step up.”
“Yes!”
“Begin immediately.”
“Young Master, I...”
“Begin!”
When Patrick barked the order sternly, both Sanson and Taylor flinched. Only then did they begin to realize that this was different from their usual sparring.
“Haaah!”
Thwack!
* * *
Two hundred exchanges later, Sanson subdued Nelson.
However, his previous composure seemed to have vanished; he failed to stop his sword in front of Nelson and ended up striking him on the crown of the head.
“Huff... huff...”
He was gasping for breath.
Nelson was the twelfth opponent, and Sanson had fought a total of twelve soldiers so far. His breath was ragged, and the arm holding the sword was trembling.
Sanson looked at Patrick. His gaze asked if he had to keep going.
“Next, Harry, step up.”
“Ye... Yes!”
“Begin immediately!”
Without hesitation, Patrick threw the thirteenth opponent at him.
‘Damn it, what is he trying to do?’
Sanson grit his teeth and swung his sword at the thirteenth opponent.
“What’s going on? This is...”
“This isn't the usual training.”
“Did the Captain—no, did Big Brother do something wrong?”
“Shh, watch your mouth.”
“But this is...”
The soldiers whispered. At first, they thought it was just normal sparring, but the atmosphere had completely changed.
Sanson remained in the center while the soldiers took turns attacking him. He had already faced over thirty opponents, and his sword had long since lost its initial sharpness.
Clack!
“Urgh...!”
Sanson staggered as he blocked a strike from an opponent he would normally have defeated with ease.
The opponent, who should have taken that opening to press the attack, hesitated. Then...
“Do it properly!”
Patrick let out an angry roar.
Startled, the soldier lunged forward. Under the ensuing assault, Sanson stumbled and fell backward, failing to block the sword that came toward his neck.
“Ah... as expected.”
“That’s as far as he goes.”
“Even for the Captain, thirty people was too much.”
The other soldiers felt a mix of pity and relief. But instead of declaring the opponent’s victory...
Slap!
Patrick delivered a stinging slap to the cheek of the soldier who had beaten Sanson.
Grabbing the dazed soldier by the collar, Patrick growled, “What do you think you’re doing? Do you think sparring is a joke?”
“N-no, sir.”
“April.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“Take this pathetic brat and work him until he’s on the verge of death.”
“Yes, sir.”
Following Patrick’s orders, April dragged the soldier to a corner of the training ground.
Then Patrick spoke.
“I’m telling you now. Anyone who goes easy or slacks off in this sparring will answer to me.”
As the soldiers murmured, Patrick continued, “If you think I’m joking, go ahead and try. Once I take one of your heads as an example, maybe you idiots will finally wake up.”
In that moment, a chilling killing intent radiated from Patrick, sending shivers down the soldiers' spines.
The moment they heard Patrick’s threat, the soldiers realized they absolutely could not hold back.
Returning to his spot, Patrick said, “Next, Paulo.”
“Yes!”
“Begin immediately.”
And so, the sparring resumed. A hellish gauntlet that didn't end even if Sanson lost.
The 40th opponent...
Sanson somehow managed to endure, alternating between winning and losing.
But by the 50th opponent, winning became impossible. He was pathetically beaten and rolled across the ground by subordinates he would normally have handled with ease.
But it didn't matter how many times he lost or was broken. Patrick heartlessly designated the next opponent.
‘What is this? Is he trying to kill me?’
Sanson was now feeling genuine terror. He couldn't think of a reason why, but from Patrick’s actions as he pushed him to the brink, Sanson instinctively sensed the fear of death.
‘I... I have to run...’
“Next, Gray. Begin immediately!”
But at Patrick’s command, the next opponent heartlessly stepped up.
Ignoring Sanson’s condition, the wooden sword swung ruthlessly. Sanson moved his body reflexively to dodge.
However, he couldn't dodge the second strike.
Clack!
“Urgh...”
His body staggered from an attack he would normally have blocked effortlessly. He managed to parry the strike and retreat, but the opponent pursued him fiercely.
Clack! Clack-clack!
Finally, unable to hold out for more than a few exchanges, Sanson’s balance crumbled as the opponent’s sword flew toward him.
Sanson grit his teeth, seeing the strike coming but unable to block it. However...
Clack!
‘Huh?’
It was strange.
It was an attack he shouldn't have been able to block. He was certain he had been hit.
Yet, his wooden sword was blocking the opponent’s. And the wooden sword in his other hand was flying toward the opponent’s neck.
“Gah...!”
The opponent was flustered by the unexpected counterattack, and in that brief window, Sanson regained his stance.
‘What was that?’
He had performed the defense and counterattack unconsciously. His mind had been braced for defeat, but his body had reacted on its own, saving him from the crisis.
He had never felt anything like this before. And then...
“Haaah!”
Sanson swung his wooden sword at the charging opponent.
Swung smoothly in a state of natural relaxation where all strength had left his body, Sanson’s sword was now gradually accelerating.
“Huh? What’s that?”
“Did that man suddenly take some medicine?”
“How is he coming back to life?”
The soldiers, who had been watching Sanson with pity, widened their eyes. Sanson, who had been crawling on the ground near death, was beginning to revive bit by bit.
The speed of his sword was back to what it was at the start—no, it seemed even faster.
Even his expression had changed. The exhaustion that had plagued Sanson’s face until moments ago was replaced by a renewed vitality.
‘He’s finally caught the thread. But from here on is what’s important.’
Patrick watched with a calm gaze as Sanson swung his sword in a near-trance.
The 60th person, the 70th person.
Sanson continued the sparring, winning and losing repeatedly.
And then, the 80th person.
“Next!”
Sanson, having sent his opponent’s sword flying, shouted out with newfound authority.