Learning Martial Arts

In the end, there was no way I could dump even the basic problems of food, clothing, and shelter on the gallery.

I decided I would solve the matter of surviving on my own.

And on that front, I already had a plan.

With the destination more or less settled, the direction of my steps became just as clear.

Cheonmu Academy was in Chengdu, in Sichuan Province, so heading roughly that way would do.

For now, maybe I just need to keep going north?

The main roads would give the Black Snake Pavilion too many chances to spot me, so following mountain trails until I ran into a herbalist or a slash-and-burn village and asking for directions was the only real option.

Figures.

Looks like I was going to have to starve for a while.

Thankfully, the Blood Cult Lord at least helped me tell which fruit was safe to eat, so after filling my stomach to some degree and finishing a night of sleeping rough, the gallery finally got down to its real work.

There seemed to have been an enormous wall of text worth of arguing in between, but either way, it looked like the first martial art was going to be the Spirit of Seeking Justice's.

And as it turned out, the first one chosen, the Spirit of Seeking Justice, was a far more competent instructor than I'd expected.

The comments heated up a bit, and I still didn't fully understand what the Spirit of Seeking Justice was saying, but the point was that martial arts had stages too.

If I left them alone any longer they were going to start fighting among themselves again, so I summoned the Spirit of Seeking Justice's gallery spirit first.

A form like mist took shape in the empty air.

"We meet again."

"We do."

Spirit of Seeking Justice.

True to his claim of a military background, he had a thoroughly hearty presence. A giant of a man with a head two sizes bigger than mine, and a wild beard that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠made him look almost feral. His laugh was as big as the rest of him — even through the blurry, incomplete shape, you could tell for certain that he was grinning.

"What I'm about to teach Juddak is the basics only. Keep in mind this still isn't my personal art."

"Is there a difference?"

The Justice gallery spirit shaped a massive axe out of smoke as he answered.

"Just that my personal art is stronger, more or less? I mainly use battle-axes. What I'm teaching you from here on is what I learned in the army."

"Ah…"

"But don't worry about learning things twice for nothing. Same roots. And I've thought a bit about how to teach martial arts too…"

He lifted the axe and swung it through the air a few times as he spoke.

"Simplest way first — start by watching the posture and copying it. I'll correct anything that's wrong. If we teach it slowly like that, you'll grab at least a thread of it."

"Ah, yes."

The moment he set his stance, the air itself changed.

Even as a blurry form, the clean precision of his posture was something even a complete outsider like me could see. Only then did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it really sink in again that I was learning martial arts from one of the greatest under heaven.

"What I'll teach is Gunryeo Gwonhak — and of that, mainly Baekta. In short, how to throw a punch efficiently."

His stance was upright. One hand extended forward, the other held near the jaw.

"Military martial arts are all combat-oriented, so they mostly focus on breaking people and throwing them in chaotic melees. Running into Green Forest bandits on the road would be a problem, and even learning just this much will let you thrash most pursuers, so keep that in mind."

His right hand stretched forward as if gripping something in the empty air. Then he folded that arm, pulling as though yanking something toward himself, and drove his left hand out.

"The form's name is Armor-Hook Bone Crusher. If they're wearing armor, there's a place to grab at the neck. You seize that, haul them in, then smash the throat. If it's just clothes, the collar works."

His form was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so clean that a picture snapped into place in my head at once.

"The left hand is Throat-Strike Spring Shot — you hit the Adam's apple. Most people drop their head or clutch their throat, and from there you naturally strip their weapon or trip the legs and put them down."

Talking through it, he demonstrated several more postures. Hooking a leg and slamming them to the ground before driving a fist down. Twisting a wrist to seize a weapon. And so on.

Looked at one way, it was closer to pure self-defense than anything else. Every technique assumed the opponent was armored or armed.

"You were always more likely to face armed enemies — and more than one of them — so my art probably got picked. More than anything, the first rule of the battlefield is survival, and this fits that too."

"Yes."

"Then want to try copying it right now?"

Following his words, I called up the postures I'd just seen and started working through a few of them. Somewhere along the way, his voice began to fade.

What? Am I doing something wrong?

In between he'd been giving specific corrections — drop the shoulder more, plant the foot deeper, pull the waist back — but at some point he'd gone quiet.

Had something gone wrong?

Then the Justice gallery spirit muttered under his breath.

"…What the hell? Why is this working?"

"What is?"

"No — there are some odd parts in the posture, but hold on. Let me match my build to Juddak's for a second."

In an instant he shrank down to a frame close to mine, then ran through the same postures again.

"Copy me."

At his word I worked through the few forms I'd learned. A moment later—

"Hmm…"

"Is something not working? If there's a problem, you can just say it straight."

"No, it's… uh… BloodCake. Watch Juddak for a second. Juddak, keep repeating that posture."

And then the Justice gallery spirit vanished.

…What was that. That felt weird.

A short while later, a post went up on the gallery.