By Zephyria 
Before retiring to my chambers, I had washed my face clean, and thanks to waking up early to thoroughly train in the martial arts training ground and finish breathing and regulating energy, I was able to have a refreshed face during breakfast with Shayden, just like before.
As I plucked and ate the grapes served as a side dish one by one, marveling at how I was reborn in such a bountiful land, I heard a “Huh,” sound from in front of me.
“Why?”
“Can you tell me in seven syllables?”
“…Why are you staring at me eat like that?”
“No, this is something I don’t need to worry about… How can you not be swollen at all?”
My nerves had been bothered by his glances since morning, as if I had asked something strange, so I suppressed my laughter at his subsequent words.
The Knights here did not practice breathing and regulating energy separately; they had something similar called mind control, a form of meditation. The Mana they guided merely enveloped and strengthened their hearts and major organs, scattering afterward, which did not result in reduced swelling like this.
Someday, I wanted to pass down internal energy cultivation methods to this one, but how could I explain and translate the numerous acupoint locations, which were impossible to pronounce in the local language? A single mistake could lead directly to cultivation deviation, and I felt a pang of regret, wishing I had read at least one medical text when I lived in the Central Plains.
“I just… always have been.”
I answered shamelessly, and this time I heard a laugh, “Ha.” “Let’s go, to class.” The narrow back leading me forward felt strangely reassuring.
❖ ❖ ❖
The current beginner swordsmanship class began by checking how much I had corrected the points raised in the previous lesson. After everyone performed a sword form, received individual corrections, and I watched them struggle to avoid falling back into their ingrained sword paths, I fell into thought.
Having come to a new land and inhabited a new body, was there any reason to cling to my previous swordsmanship?
In Ernhardt’s Magnolia Knights, there was no other choice as proper sword arts were unobtainable. But now, it was different. As I watched the children from over there and was about to grab Sanson’s sleeve, who had approached my side, he swiftly dodged my hand.
Both I and Maelo Sanson were surprised. I was surprised because the technique I had unconsciously deployed was the ‘Grasping Hand’ (a martial art that uses hooked hands to grab and subdue an opponent). Maelo, who had approached without thinking and then harshly dodged his disciple’s outstretched hand, chuckled and spoke to me.
“What were you thinking so deeply about?”
“Between erasing the murderous intent from the sword art I’m using and supplementing its deficiencies, or learning a better new sword art, which would be better?”
“…Hmm…”
As if it were an unexpected topic for him as well, Sanson fell into thought for a moment. It was then that a sense of curiosity struck me. I wondered why the academy, owned by the Empire, did not universally teach superior martial arts.
If they were military personnel, everyone could learn and master the same sword forms, so why didn’t they? Was it because this was a place with too many fairy tales about a single hero saving the world?
As I entertained such trivial thoughts, Maelo opened his mouth.
“It’s probably better to fix what you already have.”
“What is the reason? Is the sword art I possess compared to what Professor Sanson has…”
“No, it’s not an issue like that. First… wait, let’s move somewhere else.”
Maelo Sanson led me a little further away from the students, but still within sight. We walked closer to the wisteria, though it was not the blooming season, so it was not fragrant. I blinked blankly and looked up at him.
“Where did you learn the sword art you’re using? Do you know its name?”
“It’s called the Azure Sky Unfettered Sword Art. The one who taught me is not in this world.”
“…When did you learn it?”
“Uh, when I was very young…”
“Before you developed the hobby of circling the martial arts training ground?”
“Yes.”
I knew he was looking at me as if I were something strange. But I didn’t want to lie to my master. It was also because I was inherently bad at lying and feared being found out later.
“There’s nothing strange about you. It’s not… No, it’s strange, but is it strange to say it’s strange?”
What strange talk was this. As my expression turned peculiar, the man stroked his chin and pondered further. I knew he would give me a direct and clear answer even with just a handful of encounters, so I waited patiently.
“You’ve developed habits.”
“Bad habits can be corrected, but…”
“No. Not habits within the sword art itself. Even the way you breathe is different. You breathe according to certain rules, extend your hands, and bend your knees even when you’re not using your sword to practice this sword art.”
“…”
“When most children encounter something interesting, they use their eyes, but you try to draw it up from your aura. Whether you look ahead, listen to something, or even think, it’s all combat-oriented. Given your age, the achievements and actions you continuously display are beyond what can be explained by a deceased master who met you briefly in childhood and taught you sword art…”
Gasp, I took a breath. I hoped my complexion wouldn’t turn pale. I realized he was a formidable martial artist, and simultaneously, the thought that I might be exposed on the very day I resolved to push away my past life made my palms sweat.
Maelo Sanson looked at me with a serious expression.
“I hope you won’t lie about this one thing, Michael Ernhardt. Have you perhaps…”
“…”
“Held a Demon Sword?”
“What?”
Demon Sword?
Seeing my bewildered blinking, he seemed to find me quite flustered, so he chuckled awkwardly and waved his hand. Could there be such a way of passing down a sword art filled with murderous intent in this world?
While I became serious, thinking it might be similar to the lineage of the Heavenly Demon Sword used by the Demonic Cult’s leader, Sanson seemed to feel lighter.
“No, it’s just that you act so much like you’ve stepped out of a fairy tale, so I was wondering… If not, then never mind. In any case, because you are in that state, there’s no need for you to discard the sword art you’re accustomed to. Sword arts are not perfected by a single one. If the most perfect sword art in the world existed, there wouldn’t be so many of them.”
“…”
“Sword arts are merely… tools to help you use a sword well. You can choose what you want to use when you want to use it. Like choosing whether to use a spoon or a fork when eating.”
“…I don’t think my table has a knife yet.”
“Indeed, it seems you don’t have a cutlet fork or a dessert spoon either.”
Seemingly pleased with how I responded to his analogy, Maelo Sanson nodded with a friendly smile.
“Then, let’s find a time to meet again. For now, it’s a class with other friends, so I can’t dedicate time solely to you, Ernhardt. You understand that, right?”
“Of course! I, I’m completely free all afternoon on Friday… Friday.”
“I’ve received your incredibly proactive date request. Come to the martial arts training ground after we have lunch on Friday.”
“Yes!!”
As Maelo Sanson returned to the students, I stood there, lost in thought once more.
Breathing must refer to internal energy cultivation methods. The Great Expansive Divine Art of Azure Sky, like the sword art, was a divine art passed down through generations in the bloodline of the Namgung, so it was natural for them to be a good match. However, I had almost missed it in my haste.
I walked slowly, stepping away from the wisteria to stand properly in the open space, and began to examine my martial arts methodically, using the Namgung’s techniques.
I breathed according to the verses of the Great Expansive Divine Art of Azure Sky. While I had always focused on sword arts, if I were to extend my hands without a sword, the Heavenly Thunder Three Palms and the Nine Walls Divine Fist would naturally come first. I walked in the direction of the Azure Sky, striking with the energy of Heavenly Thunder.
The Namgung’s martial arts are the arts of an emperor, and since the Namgung’s martial arts are performed with the will of heaven, it was natural that I now appeared like a Namgung.
As I breathed slowly, both my swinging hands and my steps were deliberate. Even without imbuing them with fierce intent, they carved the straightest path, and I followed it. I tried to chase the trail of the white things drawn long across the blue sky.
The white things, which were sometimes white clouds, sometimes white cabbage butterflies, and sometimes elegant white cranes, made the ‘Dao’ planted in my heart grow even greener.
My outstretched hand, reaching to push into a wider space, embraced the sky. A verdant energy shimmered in my right hand extended forward. The internal energy that bloomed like a flower in my Dantian wrapped around my limbs and even reached the Sobu acupoint in my palm. My understanding of the martial art technique for striking an opponent by releasing internal energy outwards was shallow, so this was a technique I hadn’t used in the Central Plains.
Instead of trying to forcefully gather the dispersing energy, I let it flow out and took the next step. As I took a step forward, I turned my gaze inward.
I had to look inside my body, not ahead. I observed the path of my internal energy. I saw the energy rising from my Lower Dantian ripple in response to every hand gesture and foot movement. Instead of guiding the energy, I let it flow freely to where it wanted to go.
The energy, originally bright and calm like the vast sky, did not behave violently. Following that energy, I too gradually developed a broader mind.
I felt a gaze upon me. I calmed the raised momentum. I gathered back the energy I had released with my outstretched hand. A sibilant, sly, and subtle sound, like a snake’s hiss, lingered around me before dissipating. I knew the name of that verdant energy.
“…Heavenly Thunder Emperor Divine Art…”
It was a mind method, no, a divine art, one level above the Great Expansive Divine Art, passed down through a single lineage only to the direct descendants of the family head. It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was certainly similar. Unsure if it was real, I clenched and unclenched my fists a couple of times before suddenly lifting my head.
Maelo Sanson, who was naturally observing me, nodded as if to praise me, saying, “Well done.”
Ah, a smile bloomed on my face once more.