A Medieval Knight in a Martial Arts Novel

Over the course of two years, living by the sword, I learned one thing the hard way:

Never associate with a swordsman obsessed with his blade.

Anyone who becomes fixated on one thing, no matter what it is, will invariably inconvenience those around them. This was especially true for sword obsessives—so much so that it was hard to tell friend from foe.

Their usual refrain: “Let’s duel,” “let me see the extent of your sword techniques,” “I yearn to witness your swordsmanship,” and the like, repeated endlessly in slight variations. And if they saw someone executing an unfamiliar technique, they would charge in like a rabid dog.

They didn’t care if others reacted with distaste—they’d confidently counter any criticism with, “What’s wrong with a swordsman striving for the ultimate truth of the blade?” After every duel, they’d trace diagrams on the ground with the tip of their sword to replay the fight.

And then there were the Pythagorean swordspeople, who turned sword arts into arcane equations incomprehensible to anyone outside their circle. Even though I’d studied modern mathematics, the absence of basic arithmetic symbols in this era made it impossible to decipher their writings, which looked more like cryptic codes. Even if you openly stared, trying to understand, you wouldn’t get it.

I once asked out of sheer curiosity about the content of one of these inscriptions, only to nearly fall victim to ‘possession by inner demons,’ or what the Central Plains called ‘Zhu Hua Ru Ma.’

Having had that experience, I came to deeply dislike such sword fanatics.

Anyway—

“Master, may I trouble you—”

“It’s troubling enough.”

You must never give an inch to these types. If they catch even the slightest opening, they’ll charge in like madmen. While this fellow might not be the worst of the bunch, I still didn’t like it.

“Yeah, it is! You’re not fully recovered, Uncle!”

“Ah, my apologies! I made a grave mistake! Please forgive me!”

…This one’s symptoms aren’t too bad yet. At least he knows how to apologize.

He’s not completely beyond redemption.

I patted the young swordsman’s shoulder, reassuring him it wasn’t a big deal.

Mistakes happen.

They happen.

“So…when you’re fully recovered, may I have the honor of a duel?”

“…”

Should I accept or decline?

I was deep in thought, staring at the earnest young man before me. While I didn’t care for sword-obsessed individuals, this duel seemed like it might greatly benefit me.

What was most important to me right now?

Regaining my dulled combat senses from a long convalescence, and building connections who might support my cause.

And one of the ways to achieve both was through a duel.

No matter how you slice it, for a swordsman who’s lost touch with real combat, a duel is the fastest way to regain that edge.

Moreover, I could get used to the Central Plains’ sword techniques through this duel—a two-for-one deal, in a sense.

Another advantage was expanding my network. Building connections would help if it ever came to facing the Demonic Sect.

Plus, these types could be easily befriended with a quick bout.

So, there wasn’t much of a reason for me to reject this. Sure, I might lose, but I hadn’t survived countless battles since the days before I could handle auras for nothing.

“In about a week, I should be fully recovered. Come then.”

As my words of consent fell from my mouth, Mu Guang’s tense face lit up, as if he’d been worried I would decline.

“This Mu Guang will await the day to witness your mighty sword techniques!”

Mu Guang, almost grateful as if I’d done him a great favor, bowed deeply. Was it really that big of a deal just to offer a duel?

Sword fanatics were truly a different breed.

As Mu Guang left with as much noise as he’d arrived, I turned to Hye-ryeong and asked.

“Why does he make such a fuss about just offering a simple duel?”

“Last year, after Senior Lim Jian accepted a duel out of pity, he was hounded for seven full nights to keep sparring! No one wants to deal with that again!”

…Maybe I should’ve turned him down and tried to find another partner.

I got up from my seat, questioning the wisdom of my decision. I couldn’t sit around idly forever.

“One hundred ninety-eight, one hundred ninety-nine…three hundred!”

Having finished my push-ups, I rotated my sore shoulders and stood up, checking my physical condition.

My previously empty mana core was now brimming with mana, and the flow through my energy channels felt natural. I was back to the condition I had when I was in the thick of battle.

My muscles, though atrophied, were regaining their strength, so if I could just wake up my senses through dueling, I’d be good to go.

“You train quite intensively, Uncle. You remind me of Junior Brother Mu Guang!”

This isn’t out of choice but for all of you guys’ sakes…sigh. Forget it, explaining would just make people look at me weird.

These guys probably think I’m just rambling.

I wiped my sweat-soaked body with the towel Hye-ryeong handed me. I could feel her gaze trailing my upper back. What about my half-naked body was so interesting? She’d seen enough male torsos during group training.

“Stop staring. You’re making me feel like I’m about to wear out.”

“But Uncle’s physique is fascinating. I’ve never seen someone with so many scars!”

True, the scars are many.

To become a knight after going through basic combat training, you had to survive battle through sheer grit and determination.

When I think about it now, it’s surprising that I survived at all.

I was pierced by swords no fewer than several dozen times, and after every fight, I carried large and small wounds. I even fought off enemy surprise attacks with a broken arm.

If anything, I got lucky—only spending a fortnight being tortured; being sold into slavery would’ve been worse.

That torture specialist’s name was so confusing back then—I should’ve plucked out his mustache and stuffed it in his mouth.

“Uncle? You don’t look well. Should we reschedule the duel…?”

“It’s just old memories resurfacing. Don’t worry about it.”

What’s the point of bringing up painful memories now?

People should live looking forward.

I donned the training uniform that Hye-ryeong handed me, and turned around. Hye-ryeong, sitting on a chair until then, stood up and opened the door for me.

“Old Master Su has prepared a special breakfast today!”

Oh, a special breakfast.

My anticipation for breakfast soared to the sky.

Even his daily meals are so good they make you crave seconds—how will this special one turn out?

It must be a treat for today’s duel practice.

I marveled at the mention of the breakfast of sausages stir-fried with vegetables like a grizzled corporal hearing about it.

After 300 push-ups, my stomach was growling fiercely.

If the special breakfast was prepared by a master chef, I’d wholeheartedly welcome it.

“Ah! We should hurry! Everyone already knows the special breakfast is out!”

“If we don’t hurry, we might not even find a seat.”

We picked up the pace.

Rather than walking, it was closer to running toward the dining hall.

We arrived somewhat earlier than usual, opening the restaurant’s doors.

“Ah, almost all the seats are gone! I should’ve used my flying technique!”

As Hye-ryeong lamented, that was indeed the case.

It was all thanks to Old Master Su’s incredible cooking.

“Uncle, there’s still a spot over there!”

We quickly took the last empty seats. Had we been any slower, we would’ve had to stand.

As always, Hye-ryeong raised her hand to place our order.

“Master Su! We’re here! We’d like the special!”

“Alright! Just sit and wait!”

Master Su’s cheerful command rang out, and the mouthwatering aroma of cooking from the kitchen began to waft over.

What exactly is this special dish?

While imagining what it could be, I retrieved a pair of chopsticks from the cutlery holder, handing one to Hye-ryeong.

“Thank you!”

After setting the chopsticks on the table, we chatted casually until the serving assistant arrived, placing the special dish before us.

“Wow! Five-spice braised pork!”

Hye-ryeong exclaimed in joy, picking up her chopsticks. I suppressed my own exclamation, picking up a tender slice of meat and carrying it to my mouth.

Ah, there’s the taste.

It’s night and day compared to biting into tough meat with just a dash of salt shoved down my throat.

Why did I ever fight and survive like that?

The harsh dining conditions of medieval Europe suddenly came to mind, and I felt moisture welling in my eyes.

“Uncle, have more pork!”

Hye-ryeong pushed the plate of five-spice braised pork toward me with a look of sympathy.

“I’m fine. You should eat some too.”

“No, I get full just watching Uncle eat pork!”

“That’s not true.”

Are you calling me a beggar?

Although, after about two years of surviving off terrible food, I might have looked like one.

Unable to refute further, I quietly took another piece into my mouth.

The pork disappeared in no time.

There wasn’t much to go around.

I consoled my leftover hunger with the soup noodles that came with the braise, putting down my chopsticks afterward.

“That was delicious.”

“Once you’ve finished eating, let’s head straight to the practice yard!”

We immediately left the restaurant for the dueling venue. The location was the training ground in the main hall. I heard that even the leader and elders of the Hainan Sword Sect were here to observe this duel.

“This is the training ground!”

Oh, there are so many people.

Indeed, fitting the representative sect of Hainan Province, numerous disciples surrounded the training ground.

This many people came just to watch a duel between me and some guy named Mu Guang.

Well, watching duels does help improve sword techniques, so there was no real reason not to come.

“Look at him…”

“So tall…he’s got to be over seven feet, right?”

“They say Westerners are skilled in external techniques, I wonder if this is true…”

I brushed aside the murmurs from people staring at me.

No reason to listen or remember.

Let’s see…

This one looks good.

I picked the longest wooden sword from the weapon rack.

The grip feels a bit off, but borrowing it, there’s only so much one can expect.

With the wooden sword in hand, I walked toward the center of the training ground, where my opponent Mu Guang waited with a wooden sword, ready.

“It’s been seven days.”

“Time flies.”

“Indeed, time moves like an arrow, fleeting.”

Stop talking fancy.

It’s giving me a headache.

“Is that so?”

I gave an evasive response and turned my gaze toward the middle-aged warrior walking toward me.

“Teacher.”

“You must be the infamous Colored-Eyed Person. I am Bai Xian, this humble disciple’s master.”

“…”

“William? That’s a difficult name to pronounce.”

“That’s why I plan to take on a Central Plains-style name.”

Since I don’t exactly have an attachment to my name, let’s hurry and pick a proper one.

I reaffirmed this while facing forward.

Mu Guang also stared at me.

“Are you ready in your heart?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And you?”

“I am also ready.”

“When I take five backward steps, the duel will begin!”

Five steps, huh.

This is an unusual method.

Thud.

A backward step resonated.

I kept my eyes fixed on Mu Guang.

Thud.

Thud.

Five steps. Count it by sound alone.

Thud.

I stepped forward with my right foot, bending my knee.

Thud.

The fifth sound indicating the start of the duel pierced my ears.

Then, Mu Guang’s sword came rushing toward me like a fierce wave.

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