Chapter 19

Swish.

Lin Sheng held a wooden staff, thrusting it forward again and again.

He was inconspicuous among the group of students, but a careful observer would notice his movements were the most standard of them all.

Chen Huan stood to the side with her arms crossed, frowning as she watched him closely.

"His progress is so fast!" she whispered.

Xu Yi, standing beside her, held a thermos and took a sip of hot water.

"It's only been three weeks. Tsk, tsk, he's like a natural-born genius at swordsmanship. It seems we've struck gold."

Chen Huan shook her head. "Striking gold doesn't help much. We aren't a formal institution; we can't officially register him for athletic competitions. Even we coaches have to register through other places. If he wants to get certified, he'll have to pay for it himself."

"He's just a beginner; it's too early for grading," Xu Yi said with a smile. "But we can cultivate him well. If he happens to win a prize, wouldn't that revitalize the club in one go?"

"I hope so." Chen Huan felt a flicker of excitement.

To put it bluntly, the athletic industry relies on youth and sharp reflexes; it's a career that burns out quickly.

Naxi Swordsmanship had competitive events throughout Celine. If he could just become a city-level representative, it would be far better than this half-dead state they were in now.

Currently, the entire swordsmanship club was supported by the investments of a few wealthy second-generation heirs, and daily expenses were far exceeding their income.

Truth be told, she and Du Xinlei opened the hall to teach students only to supplement their income and reduce their own expenses.

"Actually, if you really count it, we are just amateurs ourselves," Chen Huan said helplessly. "At most, I've only been learning Naxi Swordsmanship for two years. Du Xinlei has only been at it for three."

"It wasn't complicated to begin with. It depends on comprehensive quality; there are only so many moves, and no matter how you learn them, they're always the same." Xu Yi smiled. "Besides—"

She took another sip of water. "Besides, this club was just a product of Young Master Chen and his friends playing around. If you and Du Xinlei weren't so serious, they wouldn't have even bothered setting it up if they were truly worried about losses."

"That's one way to put it." Chen Huan gave a bitter smile.

She wanted to say more, but the time for the students to practice had arrived.

"Alright, everyone, pay attention. We're starting sparring now. No hitting the head or lower body. The first to touch the opponent's torso wins." Chen Huan clapped her hands, directing everyone to change into protective gear and helmets.

Lin Sheng was drenched in sweat, lowering his wooden staff. He could feel his body as if it had just awakened from the water; a strange sense of familiarity was constantly correcting his swordplay.

This is a bit strange. Could it be that the changes in my dreams are actually affecting reality?

His heart skipped a beat.

Ever since he killed that Rotten Swordsman in his dream a while ago, he hadn't taken it seriously after waking up.

But when he started practicing swordsmanship again this time, he vaguely felt that something was off.

The feel and coordination of his sword strikes were on a completely different level than before.

It was as if he had practiced these moves countless times; some were incredibly proficient, while others remained at the clumsy stage of just knowing the stance.

He stood there, gripping the wooden staff, feeling dazed.

He had just tested a few moves and already discovered where the problem lay.

My basic thrust is much more proficient than before.

Could it be...!!? Lin Sheng's pupils contracted as he instantly thought of the changes in his dream.

In the dream, after I killed the Rotten Swordsman, I obtained his memory fragments and muscle memory. Now, it's even affecting reality...

Lin Sheng's heart sank, his mind in turmoil.

This supernatural phenomenon made him feel both terrified and expectant.

If that Ravel I killed truly existed, then what about Black Feather City? Could it be that a place called Black Feather City actually existed? Was it real?

Lin Sheng felt increasingly horrified.

He realized that his dreams were definitely not just "a little special" as he had previously thought.

The fact that he could gain such mutations from his dreams—did this mean that similar variables existed elsewhere in the world?

Is this world still the mundane world I thought it was? Lin Sheng's grip on the wooden staff tightened slightly.

"Lin Sheng! Feng Xia, you two spar."

Suddenly, Chen Huan's voice snapped him out of his daze.

Lin Sheng looked up. Feng Xia, who was relatively more skilled among the students, was already standing opposite him, wearing protective gear and a helmet, holding a black wooden staff.

Feng Xia pulled down her helmet's visor, assuming a "roof" stance, holding the staff vertically beside her ear.

Lin Sheng realized it was time to spar. He quickly put on his bamboo helmet, pulled the visor down, and could only see his opponent through the wire mesh.

Around them, other students were pairing up, preparing to spar.

The club was full of novices; in just these few weeks, Lin Sheng had seen his neighbors change twice.

Most students only took a few classes; once their initial enthusiasm faded, they stopped coming.

It made sense. In this day and age, who was still willing to suffer and hone their swordsmanship every day? No matter how well you practiced, a single bullet could solve everything.

Meanwhile, on the streets here, you even need a permit to carry a sword.

"Prepare yourselves. Three, two, one, start." Chen Huan had already divided the groups, raising her right arm and swinging it downward.

Lin Sheng quickly raised his wooden staff high, meeting Feng Xia, who stood opposite him.

Although Feng Xia was a girl, she weighed a staggering 183 pounds and stood at the same height as Lin Sheng, over 1.7 meters. Standing across from him, a fierce aura rushed toward him.

Seeing Lin Sheng raise his staff, she hurriedly struck a pose and slashed forward.

Swish!

In an instant, Lin Sheng twisted his staff—it was a feint—and the downward strike transformed into a direct thrust.

The black wooden staff shot forward, striking its target a split second before Feng Xia's slash could land.

"Ah."

Feng Xia clutched her stomach and crouched down, her wooden staff dropping from her hand. She kept crying out in pain.

Lin Sheng stood where he was, still maintaining the posture of the thrust, looking somewhat dazed.

In that split second just now, he had used Ravel's thrust almost instinctively.

And the result.

It really works. His expression remained unchanged, but his heart was shaken.

In actual combat, this thrust was indeed far more ferocious than any other move he had learned.

Feng Xia had moved before him, but the distance her sword had to travel was significantly longer than his.

When the difference in speed is negligible, the distance between the blade and the opponent is the true deciding factor.

"Again!" After resting for a moment, Feng Xia stood back up, gripping her staff and striking a pose.

Lin Sheng fell silent; he also wanted to test whether he had truly changed.

And so, very quickly, Feng Xia was struck repeatedly, crouching down and crying out in pain over and over again.

The anomaly here soon caught the attention of the other students.

Thud.

The wooden staff in Feng Xia's hand was knocked away by a single strike.

She stubbornly clutched her hand, wanting to go pick it up and continue.

"Forget it, the gap between you two is too large. I'll go." Chen Huan walked over and held Feng Xia back. "Lin Sheng's progress is too fast. He only knows how to use one move—the thrust—but he uses that move better than anyone else here."

"I'm just not in a good state today, I didn't sleep well last night, otherwise..." Feng Xia said, unwilling to accept it.

"It's not your problem." Chen Huan shook her head, cutting her off.

Carrying her wooden staff, Chen Huan stood opposite Lin Sheng.

She gripped the staff with both hands, holding it vertically beside her ear.

"Your fighting style reminds me of some battlefield swordsmanship records I've seen before. The Naxi Swordsmanship from ancient times also focused primarily on thrusting when used in military formations."

"Coach, what are you doing...?" Lin Sheng asked hesitantly.

"Let's spar." Chen Huan lowered her gaze, her body slightly hunched, an air of solemnity radiating from her entire being.

Lin Sheng opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but seeing that Chen Huan had fallen silent, he calmed his heart.

He also wanted to see just how powerful he had become after gaining Ravel's muscle memory.

The two stood face to face, their wooden staves held upright like real longswords, confronting one another.