The Military Camp (Part 2)

The military camp lay west of the town. It covered a large area and could house five hundred people, but the army now had only fifty soldiers. A few family members were scattered sparsely throughout the camp as well.

When Romon arrived at the gate, he followed his agreement with Richard and reported in first. After waiting a short while, he was led inside.

The military camp was a warehouse protected by its own watchtowers and walls. Yet in the empty grounds, only a dozen or so off-duty soldiers were training. One of them was Squad Leader Richard.

"Captain Richard, I'm here." Romon smiled and greeted him, putting on an intimate manner.

"Mm, the soldier told me. Sit down." Richard had been practicing swordsmanship alone and only stopped now. His chest rose and fell slightly. He took a deep breath and quickly calmed down from the intense exercise. "What do you think you should learn?"

"I want to learn everything, but I don't know what matters most." Romon scratched his hair and spread his hands, looking as if he would wholly follow an expert's advice.

"Then let's have a fight first and let me see your level." Richard nodded blandly, then suddenly remembered something. "Oh, right. Your shortsword is still at the blacksmith's. You should be able to pick it up tomorrow. I'll get you a wooden sword, and then we'll begin."

"Mm, training can't exactly be done with real swords." Romon answered casually, clenching his fists with an excited look.

Richard neither agreed nor disagreed. He turned and fetched two wooden training swords, handing one to Romon. "Also, here are your twenty-five silver coins. Your adventurer's certificate is in there too!"

He tossed over a jingling cloth pouch and watched Romon.

Romon caught the wooden sword and the money pouch, casually weighing the pouch in his hand. He could not tell how much was inside and was just about to open it for a look when he suddenly felt something staring at his neck. Looking up, he saw Richard holding his wooden sword level, its tip aimed straight at his throat. He was instantly left tongue-tied.

"You've already lost!" Richard showed no embarrassment at all, his expression perfectly natural.

"You..." Romon was utterly stifled. His face flushed crimson as he forced the words from his mouth one by one. "But you never called the start!"

"No, it already started." Richard flicked his wrist, tracing a beautiful sword flower before sheathing the sword and standing with it planted before him. He said blandly, "I said just now that I would get you a wooden sword, and then we would begin. You answered with an mm, which meant you agreed."

Romon was speechless, angered for a moment by the other man's sophistry. "Then what exactly did that teach me?"

"First lesson: use your brain properly in battle." Richard spoke as he moved. "If you can only make a living with your body, you may look impressive, but..." With a crack, the two wooden swords struck. Richard blocked with a backhand motion, skillfully redirecting Romon's attack outward and sending him sprawling at once.

Romon fell facedown onto the ground. The pouch of silver coins against his chest immediately knocked the breath from him, making him look miserable. He nearly vomited up the mushroom soup he had drunk that morning.

Richard chuckled and stared down at Romon. "Why did you launch a sneak attack just now?"

Romon pushed off with one hand and sprang backward several steps before climbing to his feet. One hand covered his chest while the other pointed the sword at Richard. His complexion was poor, but he still looked cautious, his eyes fixed directly on Richard. Only after confirming that Richard had no intention of attacking did he speak. "No one said we had stopped, so we were still fighting. If we were still fighting, how could it count as a sneak attack?"

"Mm, not bad. Your mind is fairly quick." Richard smiled faintly. "It was I who failed to think it through."

Richard then strode forward and attacked again. His assault was swift and fierce. Within mere seconds, there was a light smack as the wooden sword struck Romon's sword arm.

Romon only felt his arm go numb. It immediately turned weak and limp, utterly unable to exert any strength.

But Romon endured the pain in his right hand, gritted his teeth hard, and immediately reached out with his left hand to catch the falling wooden sword. Yet there came another smack, and Richard struck his left hand limp as well.

With a clatter, the wooden sword fell onto the training ground.

"Let's stop for now." Richard smiled.

"Fine!" Romon's chest heaved as he panted. A bitter smile appeared on his face. He then took a long breath, calming the frustration in his heart. He shook his head helplessly, then nodded. "Fine, we'll pause."

"Heh, then let's sit down and talk." Richard smiled faintly. "Mm, do you want to hear my evaluation of you?"

"Fine, let's hear it." Romon sat on the ground, both hands hanging limply at his sides.

"Your physique is average. Neither your endurance nor your explosive power is anything worth mentioning, though your bodily coordination is worth training." Richard chuckled. "Other than that, the only thing worth praising is that your mind is fairly nimble."

The soldiers here rarely possessed intelligence at this level. It was roughly equivalent to relying entirely on oneself to get into a second-rate university on Earth.

"In a short time, it is difficult to improve your physique. You can only do your best." Richard sighed, somewhat helpless. "For you, bodily coordination is a direction worth working toward. But if we're talking about something that can be learned quickly, it should be combat thinking."

Romon listened silently as strength gradually returned to his arms.

"Still, your mind was already nimble, so this hardly counts as teaching you anything." Richard continued, seeming to recall the years gone by. He looked somewhat lonely. "I only came to see things lightly after walking through life-and-death situations several times and witnessing a few partings between the living and the dead."

Romon waited silently.

"Come, stand up. Your arms should be able to move now." Only after Richard finished reminiscing did he say, "There are many flaws in how you hold your sword. I'll correct them for you."

"Before that, though, tell me what you think." Richard said blandly.

"Mm, if I had to say it... when attacking, I would first determine the distance between myself and the target, then calculate my current attack range..." Romon considered his wording, sorting through the ideas he could think of so he would not sound too scattered.

"Mm, you really are not bad. Then tell me, how do you determine attack range?" Curiosity appeared on Richard's face.

Romon held the sword level with one hand. Keeping the wooden sword raised was already a heavy burden on his weakened arm, making the blade tremble slightly. "Without considering footwork and looking only at the upper body, my maximum attack range is the combined length of my entire arm and the sword." He then held the sword horizontally before his chest. "And naturally, the range I can choose to attack within lies inside this circle."

"Mm, not bad. Today, I'll correct your sword stance." Richard smiled, neither approving nor disapproving. He continued, "And I'll also tell you about footwork."

Richard spoke for a long time and in great detail. On sword use alone, he explained the force borne by every section of the blade, from its tip to its edge. Only when another guard came to inform him that it was nearly time for his shift did he leave, telling Romon to practice by himself and instructing him to return the next day.

Romon trained diligently, sweating on the training field. During that time, he ate a simple lunch delivered by a guard, then continued training until two in the afternoon before leaving the camp.

After leaving the camp, Romon spent ten silver coins to buy more food. Though there was still food in plastic bags in his space, it was too precious for him to bear eating. He resolved that unless absolutely necessary, he would not eat that kind of food again. As for the renewable peaches, those did not matter.

He also bought some strong liquor for disinfection rather than drinking, along with clean gauze and some blood-staunching herbs. After calculating how much money he had left, he found that it was not much again.

Returning to his room, he counted his money and took out the adventurer's certificate for a look.

This adventurer's certificate was merely a temporary one, but it still bore a magical mark. Though it was an extremely simple magical mark, it ensured that most people could not forge it. Moreover, every task completed here could be recorded at the Mercenary Guild. Although the information in the magical mark was very simple, it could still prove one's experience and qualifications.

Romon was extremely delighted. This was the first time he had truly seen a magical item in this world!

After examining it again and again for a while, he placed it in his space.

Over the course of that week, Romon often went to receive Richard's instruction. In fact, after the first two days, Romon had basically mastered Basic Footwork and Basic Swordsmanship—truly effective martial techniques all began with a few simple moves such as chopping, slashing, and blocking.

After teaching Romon those things, Richard refused to teach him more, saying that they could talk again once he had trained them until he was proficient.

Alone and friendless in this world, with only strength to rely on, Romon continued diligently practicing these basic skills. He did not think low-level martial techniques were useless.

Before he knew it, time passed like this.

This time, a translucent data panel appeared. It floated within his vision with a faint glow, and a mass of information emerged before Qian Ming's eyes.

Name: Romon (Qian Pinji)

Life Race: Human

Class: First Authority Holder of Space, Level 1 Druid

Attributes: Strength 10 (10), Agility 15 (10), Constitution 10 (10), Intelligence 13 (10), Perception 15 (10), Charisma 15 (10)

Skill List Name:

Permanently Fixed—Detect Aura

Basic Footwork Level 1

Basic Swordsmanship Level 1

Though that week of training had been short, two basic skills had appeared in the skill list, and Romon's entire bearing had changed greatly. He had originally possessed a youth's vigorous vitality, along with the natural, harmonious air produced by a Druid's cultivation and closeness to nature. Now, after a little tempering, he had gained a measure of steadiness as well.

Even cultivation that began with physical tempering did not merely reshape the body; it could reshape the will as well.

Of course, over that week, not only had the previous plants been digested, but another kind had been added: "Bluegrass." This was a highly practical and marketable herb, an indispensable ingredient for healing potions. Its price was also somewhat higher than that of other herbs.

Romon could now openly ask Ansen for a batch of seeds and scatter them over the newly appeared acre of land.

October was not the season for planting such seeds, but that was no problem within the space.

Strictly speaking, Bluegrass normally had a growth cycle of three months. Inside the space, that made exactly four harvests a year. The plants grew well there, with no insect infestations and no disease. Even without the space's bonuses, what came out would certainly be high quality. At three hundred kilograms of dried grass per acre, four harvests a year could yield fifteen hundred kilograms. And the market price was one silver coin per kilogram!

What an astonishing figure! The thought filled Romon's heart with satisfaction.

It seemed that his happy days in this world were about to begin.

Just as he watched the seeds sprout and grow each day, Fafier and Nick finally persuaded their families through arduous negotiations, obtained permission, and prepared everything needed to head into the forest and gather wild goods.