By Zephyria 
In the Central Plains, lying or prostrating oneself on the bare ground was considered something only the Bangpa (a sect formed by beggars) would do, and was thus looked down upon. Even when sitting on the floor due to a lack of seats, it was proper to maintain an upright posture and sit in jeongjwa.
Namgung’s martial arts were specialized in swordsmanship, not hand-and-foot martial arts. Naturally, Namgung’s movement techniques were as light and free as walking on clouds. Instead of reaching out far to strike an opponent, the focus was on narrowing one’s stride to dodge nimbly or leap high. There was no need for excessive flexibility.
Sitting on the bare floor to stretch and extend the body was beneficial for martial arts. Thinking about it, it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. I recalled seeing this peculiar practice before. It was similar to what a Shaolin monk had boastfully demonstrated when first learning hand-and-foot martial arts, claiming he slept with his feet against a wall to stretch his legs further. This was from my early days in the Martial World, when I was brimming with enthusiasm for any physical endeavor.
Regardless, if it aided martial arts, it was not something to be avoided. I immediately entrusted myself to Lucilla’s hands. And I regretted it instantly. I had thought I was seasoned in controlling my body, but that was a mistake.
“Ugh. Senior! No more, please.”
“You’re not even debuted in high society yet, why are you so stiff?”
“Lucille, stop. Please, let’s be human…”
“What did I do? Young Master Ernhardt, you must endure this much to reach a higher realm.”
While the other children just watched and laughed, only Rubel tried his best to stop Lucilla. I lifted my head, wondering if my actions looked bad in the eyes of the pure and gentle Rubel, but my eyes met Sanson’s, who was smiling and shaking his head, so I prostrated myself again.
I was intrigued, thinking that Shierun’s martial arts, being significantly different from those of the Central Plains, would also be beneficial. Although the posture of spreading my legs wide and bending forward was unsightly, I calculated that my young age would allow me to be excused for such awkwardness.
Maelo Sanson, who had been watching from afar with a smile, only intervened to stop Lucilla when it was time for training. I had rolled on the floor for so long that my clothes were covered in dirt. My entire body ached as if I hadn’t rested at all, and I gripped my sword tightly until my fingers tingled, then swung it.
After class, I asked Maelo Sanson if Lucilla’s method was truly effective. He told me that widening the range of motion in one’s joints could be helpful someday and encouraged me to persevere. When I asked if Sanson could also do such things, he did not answer. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being tricked.
During lunch, the topic of me taking the Practical Flying Dagger Technique Class alone came up. It was mentioned that Rubel had taken the class alone last semester for the same reason. Apparently, about thirty students wanted to take the Practical Flying Dagger Technique Class each semester, but the enrollment was strictly limited to ten, making it highly competitive. I also learned that Professor Wilton Roberts’ Practical Flying Dagger Technique Class had only been held on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons for the past two semesters.
“Is it because Professor Roberts is also an adjunct professor, like Professor Biban Otif?”
“Biban Otif? Who is that… I don’t think I’ve taken a class with them. Well, I don’t know. Professor Wilton Roberts doesn’t talk much about himself.”
“He’s the professor in charge of the ‘Ode to Fine Horses’ lecture.”
“Ah, ah. I don’t know about the horseback riding class… Actually, even full-time professors don’t necessarily spend an exceptionally long time at the academy. It’s just their disposition. I’ve heard that professors who commute from their homes outside the academy, rather than using faculty housing, sometimes adjust their class schedules intentionally.”
Rubel, as always, was amiable and kindly provided detailed answers to my questions. I noticed Lucilla sigh in exasperation midway, but I paid it no mind. Watching the siblings bicker with such unreserved familiarity was delightful.
I also learned that there was a valid reason why Professor Wilton Roberts only accepted ten students. The Flying Dagger Technique class focused heavily on practical application rather than theory, as the professor needed to observe each student closely due to the importance of posture and throwing power. Therefore, if too many students were accepted for a class held only once a week, each student might only get to throw a flying dagger once. I agreed, nodding, that throwing a flying dagger only once a week would render the class meaningless. I thought to myself that given my personality, I wouldn’t have been able to ask a mentor directly about such things, so I was truly fortunate to have Rubel.
Unlike me, who was satisfied with the explanation, the other children were uniformly gloomy. Benjamin was down because he couldn’t take the Flying Dagger Technique class. Lucilla and Matt disliked their Thursday afternoon class, which was difficult but mandatory, so their reasons were understandable. Rubel’s gloom, however, was unexpected. Concerned by his pitiable expression, I casually asked him what was wrong as we left the dining hall. After a long silence, he said he was sad that he no longer needed to practice flying daggers with me separately. Thinking that he was so dejected over just that, I found his actions pitiable and endearing, and I reached out to ruffle his hair without thinking. He didn’t flinch and remained still. I couldn’t help but chuckle at Rubel’s cuteness even after a while.
❖ ❖ ❖
The Flying Dagger Technique classroom was easy to find, as I had visited it frequently last semester. Passing the entrance to the martial arts training ground where Rubel always waited, I recalled the boy’s face once more. I remembered how, despite his evident disappointment, he had repeatedly assured me he was fine, not wanting to burden me. I decided I should make time to play with him sometime.
I waited for Professor Wilton Roberts along with the other children who arrived around the same time. As it was a class involving swords, everyone was from the Swordsmanship Department. I was the only first-year student among the ten; there were two second-year students and seven third-year students. When I asked why there were more third-year students, Oliver Combine, who introduced himself as a third-year, replied in a friendly voice, “Well, maybe it’s because it’s easier to get points.”
“Easier?”
“Unless it’s a major course, you have to complete a semester’s credits with elective courses, and there aren’t many classes where the Swordsmanship Department students can solve things with their bodies instead of their brains. The Flying Dagger Technique class isn’t too difficult, nor is it too strenuous, so it’s perfect for those guys to aim for.”
“Then the senior who whined during the lottery last time…”
“Philip? He’s just not good with his body. He probably wouldn’t have been any different even if he retook it.”
As I trailed off, asking what kind of person he was, another child beside me chimed in with an explanation, and I nodded, accepting it. The children I had just met, who wished me well, then started chattering about academy life tips, which I found quite interesting. They spoke of a good napping spot behind a certain building and superstitions between others.
About an hour later, precisely on time, the professor entered. I had never seen anyone dressed entirely in black like this since coming to Shierun. It was an attire commonly seen in the Central Plains. Usually, those who worked at night wore such clothing. I myself had dealt with night visitors more than once. The only difference from the assassins I had seen in the Central Plains was the absence of a mask. Seeing his strangely pale complexion, I suspected that perhaps he didn’t wear a mask during class but covered his face entirely when outside.
However, I seemed to be the only one intrigued by his attire. As the other children casually straightened their postures, I blended in and put on a composed expression. Professor Roberts calmly surveyed the students and then casually sat atop a suitable table. His imposing demeanor suited him well.
“We’ve filled ten spots again this semester.”
His voice, like a whisper, sounded both regretful and pleased. No one answered the professor’s soliloquy, but a few shrugged. After a moment of silence, the professor spoke again.
“Welcome, gentlemen. My name is Wilton Roberts. I’ve been teaching the art of throwing daggers at Shierun Academy for eight years… and I’m affiliated with the Imperial Nobility Yearbook’s Inspection and Audit Team. I hope not to see you outside of class hours.”
It seemed like a joke, but no one knew if they were supposed to laugh, so they all just nodded silently. Professor Wilton finished speaking and had them pick up the bundles he had brought. The bundles were made of fabric folded in half and rolled tightly in one direction, then tied with string. Upon unfolding them, each contained ten flying daggers of appropriate size. Nine of them were identical in size, but the one on the far right, resembling the length of a forearm, stood out as a heavy sword.
“The daggers distributed now are for use only during this semester’s classes and must be returned. You may bring your personal items if you wish. In this class, we will learn how to maintain daggers, how to throw them at stationary targets, how to throw them at moving targets, and some methods for dealing with crisis situations. Everyone, please sit and listen.”
There were no designated seats in the flying dagger practice area. The tables placed between the targets were for placing the flying dagger bundles. While I hesitated, everyone else plopped down on the floor, so I also sat on the floor and straightened my back. Wilton Roberts gestured vaguely towards the storage cabinets on the side where Rubel had taken out his dagger bundle last time and continued in a relaxed tone.
“You are free to use the storage cabinets over there, but they have no locks, so please be careful not to leave any valuables other than the daggers distributed today. For the midterm exam, you will throw daggers at stationary targets, and for the final exam, at moving targets, with the results determining your score. There will be no written exam.”
“…”
“Gentlemen, what do you think is the difference between a dagger and a long sword?”
Perhaps because Professor Wilton Roberts’ gaze and tone had been consistently stern, no one readily answered. Professor Wilton waited silently without singling anyone out. After a moment’s hesitation, I raised my hand to request permission to speak. Seeing the professor nod slightly, I opened my mouth.
“Daggers are specialized for stealthily taking a person’s life, more so than long swords.”
I saw a glint in the professor’s eyes. Wilton Roberts slightly curved the corners of his lips and smiled. The sight of color returning to his pale face was grotesque, sending a chill down my spine.