By Zephyria 
Although I should have gone to the medical room as the Professor said, I felt it was better to manage my acupoints myself to heal my internal injuries.
Returning to my room, I rinsed my mouth a couple of times before sitting on the floor beneath the bed.
The soft and yielding mattress was not suitable for Breathing and regulating energy. The bedroom floor, covered with a thick, soft carpet, was more appropriate for sitting in the Lotus Position.
I calmly observed the minor meridians, starting from the Middle Dantian and extending to my arms.
Magic was indeed impressive. Even though I left the slender minor meridians to heal naturally, I could see that the energy channels, thicker than three strands of hair, had all been reinforced with Mana for healing. It was like splinting a broken energy channel and wrapping it with bandages.
As I examined them closely, it became even more wondrous and peculiar. No matter what wicked arts from the Central Plains one might employ, they wouldn’t be able to fix even three damaged energy channels to this extent within a few breaths after a Cultivation Deviation.
Ceasing my admiration, I completed one Microcosmic Orbit.
(Traversing the acupoints of the entire body with internal energy once)
On the first circuit, I followed only the Belt Meridian. Afterward, I gently soothed the swollen energy channels, which had rapidly worsened after the injury, for two more circuits.
The swelling subsided, the kinks straightened, and the constricted areas loosened. Once the paths cleared, on the fourth circuit, I could tend to even finer minor meridians, and by the fifth, the tingling pain in my arms had also subsided.
Only then did I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly, very long and thin, like the path of
From the middle onward, I couldn’t recall the path, so I merely twitched my fingertips a few times.
If I had been a truly clumsy Swordsmanship Department student instead of myself, I would have needed four days of recuperation even after receiving treatment. Even if they hadn’t intended to kill me, it was undoubtedly a malicious and cruel prank.
Yet, no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t understand why Edwin had tried to harm me. Was it because I disrupted the class? But the Crystal Orb was in my hand before the class even began!
Lost in deep thought, I suddenly gasped, drawing in a breath.
It struck me as quite strange that, despite the obvious harm inflicted, neither he nor I had any intention of killing each other.
In my previous world, a thin hidden weapon could easily claim three lives. The term “blood price” was common and pitiful in the Central Plains; it meant relentlessly devastating the surroundings of one’s target, even if they weren’t the intended victim.
But now, sixteen-year-old Edwin had only inflicted minor wounds that would keep me bedridden for four days, and I, a Human Butcher who had slaughtered thousands, wasn’t even considering dragging him into the shadows, but was instead trying to decipher the reason behind it all and unravel the secret incantation.
A smile touched my lips at the thought. This was like a sparring match between martial artists!
It was the same in the Central Plains and here, at Count Ernhardt’s manor in Sierren. Sparring was a contest that acutely tested each other’s limits while simultaneously scoring how minimally damage was inflicted on the opponent.
Drawing out Sword energy in succession, yet only managing to nick the hem of clothing with a slash, or inflict a small wound on the earlobe, or leave a tiny bruise on the nape of the neck… I recalled the thrilling pleasure felt in those moments.
As my thoughts turned to that, I began to ponder how excellent a Wizard Edwin was. The small Crystal Orb already had several strands of Mana embedded within it, but they were all etched relying on thin iron wires, like strands of hair.
However, the Crimson Gold Mana was different. It had settled on its own, without relying on any tools, occupying the most mischievous positions and piercing through. No matter how I thought about it, it was an incredible realm.
I regretted not counting the number of Crimson Gold circles that had spread across the floor earlier. I had gained a great enlightenment in the morning and a minor enlightenment in the afternoon; it was truly a fortunate start to my first day of classes.
I would have to wait another week for the next Magic class. The next time I met him, I would definitely ask him in detail about the acupuncture performed with that Mana. If he desired a sparring match between Magic and Swordsmanship, I had no intention of backing down.
A peaceful night passed thus.
❖ ❖ ❖
In the Advanced Swordsmanship class, the event Shayden Rose worried about did not occur. The esteemed Imperial descendants of the Sierran Empire didn’t even glance our way. Reading their faces and auras, I realized they were two First-Rate Martial Artists among the work-study students who had appeared in their school uniforms at the entrance ceremony, and my interest was piqued.
Born of noble blood, yet receiving ‘work-study’ scholarships.
Upon reflection, the nobles here did not consider earning money directly to be beneath them.
I recalled the dozens of sponsorship documents in my Father’s office and the thrice that many documents concerning business and leases.
The Emperor’s son serving with his own body, nobles counting supplies with their own hands. A place that gathered and educated individuals who would lead the nation regardless of status.
It was precisely because of such a place that Sierren had achieved such prosperity and strength.
Hesitating, I considered speaking to them, but then remembered my own etiquette was insufficient for addressing nobles, and I suppressed my curiosity. Instead, I stuck close to Young Master Claudian and Benjamin.
He attends Basic Swordsmanship, Advanced Swordsmanship, and Mana and Aura classes with me. He is a friend who stays by my side as much as Shayden.
The Advanced Swordsmanship class consisted of sparring, sparring, and endless observation. There wasn’t much time to look elsewhere.
Out of thirty students, only ten were Second-Rate Martial Artists; twenty were First-Rate Martial Artists. Including myself, the two Imperial descendants seemed unremarkable.
Among them, more than half were older, appearing to have deferred graduation for several years, yet they couldn’t have reached the age of twenty.
If one could endlessly learn from a Martial artist of Hwagyeong, what did graduation matter?
First-Rate Martial Artists sparred with each other, Second-Rate Martial Artists sparred with each other. They did not hesitate to use killing moves against one another. Maelo Sanson, standing nearby, managed to grip the blade with an invisible hand at the most dangerous moment, stopping it.
I felt like a monkey playing on the palm of Buddha. After swinging swords until my mouth tasted sweet, and a winner was decided, the Martial artist of Hwagyeong, Sanson, would personally explain what was good, what was wrong, and where deeper thought was needed.
It was an excellent teaching method, both for those who directly clashed swords and for those who observed the sparring with their Eye Force maximized. They shared and practiced the Sword Arts of talents selected from across the Empire.
From a distance, a sword appears slower than a thousand-year-old turtle, but up close, it seems as swift as a venomous viper.
The swordsmen, who recognized the distance of near and far swords and repeatedly returned from the brink of death without a single scratch, became accustomed to murderous intent. Even a sword thrusting directly at their throat did not make them flinch; they swung their own swords along their Sword Path.
My heart pounded with this teaching method, which I had never imagined.
“…Only this needs correction. Both of you did well, it was a very exciting, close match.”
A single word of praise was as sweet as melting sugar.
I felt like a child taking its first steps and receiving applause. Even though I was walking a path I had already walked over a decade ago, feeling embarrassed, I couldn’t stop smiling.
My eyes shone as if I were drunk, my facial muscles slackened into a grin, and I knew it, yet I couldn’t stop it.
Was it because my body had become younger, or my heart as well? As I swayed as if intoxicated, I clearly felt the gazes upon me. I felt a flush of heat and fanned myself with my hand.
It wasn’t just a flick of the wrist, but a wide spread of my internal energy, like a shield, fanned out like a fan, creating a considerable breeze. Even without seeing it, many felt that energy and let out a chorus of “Hoo, ho ho, coughs and laughter.”
“Our youngest seems to be in a very good mood. How about it, Walter Orgen? How does it feel to lose to a thirteen-year-old?”
“Is that a normal thirteen-year-old? I feel quite refreshed, indeed.”
The slender man with long hair tied up and resting on the back of his head, who had lost to me in our spar, casually reached out and ruffled my hair. Even as my head was pressed down, there was no killing intent in his hand, so I didn’t push it away.
Having been born the eldest son in this land and having always talked back since I was young, being treated as this young was unfamiliar. As I nodded my head wherever he pushed, the pressure from his hand lessened.
His hand, stroking my hair more gently than my Father’s, made my knees weak.
“Seeing you perform, I understand why you grow so fast. Young children naturally have better concentration. My youngest son has read those princess books over eighty times.”
“He’s quite something, isn’t he.”
My fine, abundant light pink hair, which had been floating softly, settled down with just a few passes of his sweat-dampened hand.
As more hands patted down on my round head, Sanson, who had become accustomed to my sharp gaze in just two days, gathered the students and made them take another pledge.
“The sparring we’re doing now is an act that drains every bit of energy, Mana, and stamina from your bodies. But you must not do this in actual combat. What is the reason for that?”
“Because actual combat is three times more brutal than practice!”
“Correct. And at the end of victory?”
“You must leave a path for escape!”
“That’s right, heroes of the Empire. After defeating the largest and most fearsome monsters, our task is to lead our tired bodies and injured comrades, kill the Goblin pests, and return to safety.”
“Yes, Master!”
“To advance the furthest and to retreat the furthest, you must always conserve your strength. For the next month, we will practice fighting with all our might, and after that, we will practice conserving our strength. In one month, everyone here will get more than five spars. Squeeze out your energy until wrinkles form on your foreheads. Understood!”
“Yes, Master!”
Here, in this glorious place, memories of the Central Plains naturally resurfaced.
If humans killing monsters is such a brave and righteous act, how desperate must it have been for humans to kill humans, with mockery, self-consolation, and compromise at every turn?
I shook my head to clear the sight of thousands of zombies that would rise again even after being killed, and fiends that rampaged to absorb human essence.
“Alright, let’s eat!” I followed them as they rushed out. My scalp still tingled.
“This way, Michael.” The name Benjamin called out as he pulled me along felt strangely unfamiliar. I suddenly wondered who had won the final battle between the Martial Arts Alliance and the Demonic Cult.
I would bet that neither side was a complete victor.