The Limits of Talent

Is the wind running, or is it in pursuit?

As the sword danced, a gale whipped through the dojo. The wind gathered along the blade, honing an edge already sharp beyond measure, and accelerated a speed already too fast for the eye to track into something even more ferocious.

The man wielding a single blade wore a pale blue swordsman's tunic; each swing of his sword stirred up a tempest, drawing envious sighs from those watching.

The swordsman wielding two blades wore a pale yellow tunic. His dual-blade assault was swift and peerless, flowing like water, continuous and relentless, yet executed with precise technique.

However, the dual-wielder was no match for the single-blade swordsman.

Despite having two blades to parry with, the man dancing with the gale—wielding only one—forced him into a corner. Flustered and losing his footing, the dual-wielder was compelled to resort to his weakest area: a direct contest of wind manipulation against his opponent.

Naturally, the dual-wielder's sword was sent flying.

The outcome was decided.

The disciples watching from the sidelines clapped lazily. The wind-swordsman with the high ponytail gave a flamboyant thumbs-up to himself, basking in the praise of his fellow brothers.

Only their senior brother silently rubbed his wrist, pulled his fallen sword from the ground, and returned it to its scabbard.

"Truly impressive, Yasuo. It must be wonderful to be able to master the Wind Technique."

The man who spoke clapped his hands listlessly. It wasn't that he wasn't awed by the wind-swordsman's skill, but rather that he had grown accustomed to Yasuo's genius.

Having mastered the formidable Wind Technique only a few years after joining, Yasuo was the only one whom Elder Souma hailed as his most gifted disciple. In truth, he was the strongest among them; even Yone, the senior brother they all revered, was nothing more than ordinary in his presence.

But beyond Yasuo's genius and the praise heaped upon him, he was currently more curious about something else.

He looked at a disciple who had joined the dojo at the same time as Yasuo but had never once shown a hint of envy, and asked the question that had long piqued his curiosity.

"Honestly, aren't you envious? Li Ke, I've never seen you envy Yasuo."

The person he addressed was Li Ke, who wore a slightly faded grey cloth tunic and was currently reading from a booklet. Before this, he hadn't paid much attention to the battle between the two strongest swordsmen in the sect, choosing instead to quietly watch his ledger and record something.

Li Ke paused. He hadn't expected this senior brother, Kong Ruo, to ask such a question. Could he really say that as a transmigrator, he had no way to learn the magic here, and therefore couldn't learn this technique—which was written as swordsmanship but read as magic—so he felt neither envy nor jealousy?

But looking at Yasuo, who was so high-spirited he might as well have been flying, and Yone, who looked calm and indifferent to his defeat, he thought of their almost inevitable future and pondered for a moment before speaking.

"Because I know very well that Yasuo is naturally suited for this swordsmanship. He is like a gust of wind; nothing can bind him... Besides, I never expected to be able to learn the Wind Technique from the start, so naturally, I wouldn't feel envious."

"Hey, hey, that's the Wind Technique we're talking about. If you could learn it..."

"But a chef has a chef's talent, a warrior has a warrior's talent, and a king has a king's talent. My talent for the Wind Technique is indeed inferior to Yasuo's; that is simply a fact."

The sword follows the heart. If the heart is not as free, unconstrained, and unburdened as the wind, how could one ever reach the highest realm of the Wind Technique?

The very premise of this swordsmanship determined from the start that someone with his personality could never learn it.

Voicing his true thoughts, Li Ke picked up his sword and stood up from the dojo, preparing to go help chop wood and tidy up the wooden training swords before the next session.

But just as he was leaving, Kong Ruo suddenly spoke to his retreating back.

"But you are a swordsman too, aren't you? Even if you don't learn the Wind Technique, aren't you envious of Yasuo's swordsmanship?"

Li Ke's footsteps faltered, but he did not answer the question.

He was indeed envious of the other man's superhuman physique and powerful swordsmanship. And to say he wasn't envious of Yasuo's natural talent at all, or that he didn't hope to learn the Wind Technique, would be a lie.

But he truly did not let it turn into jealousy or twist his heart.

Because his talent was inferior to Yasuo's—that was a fact.

He wasn't like Yasuo, who possessed outstanding aptitude even among the Ionian people. As a genuine Earthling, his physical fitness couldn't even compare to an average Ionian. Rather than a disciple, he was more of a chore-boy adopted by Elder Souma, and he possessed not a shred of magical talent.

And the Wind Technique was, in reality, magic that manipulated the wind. Yasuo was less of a swordsman and more of a mage. So, how could a transmigrator without magical aptitude ever learn the Wind Technique?

It would be a waste of effort.

That's right, Li Ke was a transmigrator. On the day he received a promotion and a raise, he was hanging out with friends at an internet cafe. The moment he sat down in a seat cooled by the air conditioner with a glass of lemonade in hand, he arrived here, his body inexplicably transformed into an infant left in the forest.

Fortunately, he was lucky enough to be picked up by an old woodcutter who had lost his entire family, sparing him from being fed to the local beasts.

Regrettably, the old woodcutter left when he was seven. On that day, the woodcutter brought him to the dojo, looked into his eyes, and said he could no longer bear the guilt of having abandoned his wife and children out of fear of death. He said he was going to the Garden of Forgetfulness to forget it all, then return to live with Li Ke and start a new life.

Li Ke remembered the woodcutter's eyes clearly when he left—they were filled with remorse, sorrow, and the guilt of someone about to commit a familiar sin once more. So, the moment the man left, Li Ke knew he would never return from that place called the Garden of Forgetfulness.

The woodcutter never came back, and the benevolent Elder Souma took him in as a disciple. He began to fulfill his duties as both a student and a laborer: maintaining the dojo, gathering firewood, washing clothes, boiling water, and doing whatever else he could.

But unfortunately, while his physical condition was much better than it had been on Earth, it was vastly inferior compared to these Ionians who danced with magic from birth.

He had long known that by relying solely on his own training, he would never surpass these Ionians who possessed magical power within them. So, if he wanted to live up to Elder Souma's expectations, his options were to keep training, or...

Save enough money to go to Piltover, purchase a set of Hextech power armor, arm himself with gold, and forge a future with technology.

He had been doing the first for nine years without a moment's rest; he was arguably one of the most diligent among them.

But the second...

As mentioned, he had spent these nine years training his swordsmanship every waking moment. His food, clothing, and shelter were all provided by Elder Souma, and any work he did outside was commissioned by the dojo, with the earnings going to the Elder. Although he received a small allowance each month, it was only enough for a decent meal or a pair of shoes; the idea of going overseas was a drop in the bucket.

So, to put it simply.

He was poor.

There was no helping it; Ionia's social structure was quite primitive. In most regions, the barter system was still the norm, and the rulers of the villages were the village chiefs and elders. Even the laws varied from village to village, determined entirely by the chief. It was less of a village and more of a tribe.

Moreover, as an adopted person, Li Ke had no private property before coming of age, and the thought of wandering freely was out of the question.

"If only I had magic... no, if only I were a rich second generation, how good that would be..."

Li Ke let out a self-deprecating laugh, sheathed his sword, and began humming the tune of "If I could start over, I'd choose Li Bai" as he set off to prepare a wooden sword.

But he had only taken a few steps when a wave of dizziness washed over him. It felt as though his consciousness had been pulled through a massive vortex, and in an instant, he lost all control over his own body.

In the haze that followed, he seemed to become the son of a wealthy merchant. As he grew up, he incessantly begged his father to let him study swordsmanship.

Worn down by his persistence, his father finally relented. He began to learn the way of the blade and the power known as Qi, and so his days passed in peaceful routine.

That was until the day a woman named Kelly moved in next door...