Author: Sorry for the delay in posting new chapters;
I'm not dead; just had some problems with my phone and could not access my account.
That said, do you think I should create a Patreon?
I feel a little uncomfortable asking people to pay for fanfics, so I was thinking about creating an original fantasy story to offer alongside early-access chapters—perhaps inspired by Xianxia, but with a power system based on the religions of my home country, Brazil, particularly those with African roots, such as Umbanda.
(I'm having trouble coming up with an original plot, though, so ideas are welcome!)
---
Weed felt relieved enough to let out a sigh.
'Under these circumstances, I can take advantage of this.'
'Showing off my abilities and my Gu would only put a target on my back.'
'Little gain. Many losses.'
'But a simple martial demonstration?'
'That's nothing.'
Then, he called the students one at a time.
Some went empty-handed.
But most chose one of the available training weapons.
There were also various types of targets and training objects available.
However, this was not the kind of spectacle one would usually expect from a Xianxia novel.
There were no young geniuses performing heavenly techniques.
Nor strikes capable of splitting mountains.
Their results were clumsy at best and disastrous at worst.
Some could not even maintain the correct stance.
Their strikes were slow.
Poorly coordinated.
It wasn't their fault. It would be foolish to expect teenagers who had only been taught for a single day to be competent martial combatants.
Liling was also called.
She walked over to the weapon rack and chose a war fan.
Her stance was not bad.
Her movements showed that she had paid attention to the explanations.
But her arms remained stiff.
Her cuts were shallow.
She lacked confidence.
Even so...
Among the ordinary students, her performance was above average.
...
Little by little, everyone finished.
The only ones left standing were the four participants in the mini-tournament.
The teacher smiled.
"Now, you four," he said.
The first was Yi Chen.
He had a thin and slender appearance.
An oval face and short, straight olive-colored hair.
And a defiant attitude.
Without hesitation, he chose a spear.
He took a deep breath.
Then took a single step forward.
Whoosh!
The tip struck the target.
The thrust was clean.
Fast.
But not deep enough.
"Good precision."
"Not enough strength."
Weed mentally recorded the information.
Any information was valuable, especially when the person in front of him could become a future opponent.
...
Next...
Zhang Wei.
He was perhaps the most disciplined in his demeanor, at least among the students who had taken the stage so far.
He walked straight and without haste.
Silent.
An expressionless face with long, dark, wavy hair.
His future first opponent.
He walked directly toward a training sword.
Without ceremony.
Then turned toward a straw dummy.
He breathed.
And struck.
Shhk!
The dummy's head flew several meters before falling to the ground.
The students immediately began to whisper.
"So this is the Sword Path..."
Weed observed every detail.
The stance.
The distribution of weight.
The force applied.
Nothing escaped his eyes.
'He has talent, but lacks practice and possibly experience.'
...
Lastly...
Hao Hao.
The first to advance in rank, and the one with the greatest talent in terms of his aperture.
He was tall for his age.
Muscular.
He had a determined attitude.
And bright, spiky orange hair held back by a headband.
Unlike the others...
He did not choose a weapon.
He walked toward the stone wall.
Slowly closed his fist.
He was the class favorite when it came to strength, so everyone focused on him at that moment.
'Wait. Doesn't he have more than one Strength Gu?'
Weed possessed one as well.
He knew exactly how that type of Gu worked.
'Even without activating it...'
'His body is still stronger than an ordinary person's.'
'Doesn't that mean he can use Gu in every attack, even without actively activating them?'
'Wouldn't that already create a huge advantage?'
He discreetly glanced at the teacher.
There was no reaction.
It seemed that this was considered perfectly normal.
'So this kind of competition isn't as "without Gu" as they made it sound.'
The next instant...
Hao Hao delivered a single devastating punch.
BOOOOOOOOM!
The ground trembled.
Dust rose into the air.
It was far stronger than anything a human should have been able to do.
But his stance was not perfect.
A handprint was left on the stone block, and cracks spread outward from it.
"That's our number one right there!"
Applause and cheers erupted.
"OOOOHHHHHH!"
"That's our number one!"
"Incredible!"
"Just as expected of Hao Hao!"
The praise continued without end.
'People in these cultivation worlds are really good at licking boots,' Weed thought.
But he gave a bitter smile.
'Who am I kidding?'
'If I had slightly less hope for a great future, I would probably be one of these bootlickers.'
'Or even worse.'
'I would probably be the first guy shouting praises at him.'
'Even in my previous life, throughout my countless jobs just to survive another day, I had already been humiliated and forced to stand my ground.'
In the end...
It mattered little what world one lived in.
It mattered little what era it was.
"In the end, we're all just humans trying to survive."
'Young women who sell their bodies in the red-light district become outcasts, and even their profession is treated as an insult.'
'But in the end, we all sell a part of ourselves.'
"Lee Hyun."
His name was finally called.
And he promptly stepped onto the arena.
Finally, it was his turn.
He looked at one of the available swords and chose the one that vaguely resembled something between a Hwando and a katana, though it was shorter to match his youthful stature.
His target?
A ceramic water jar.
Weed took a firm stance, his feet seeming to merge with the ground.
He breathed softly.
And inhaled.
Breathe.
And inhale.
Calm the mind.
Remove all thoughts.
He held the sword firmly with both hands, to the point that it almost felt like a part of his body.
Then, with a straight slash, the attack came.
Silence.
The jar appeared to remain exactly where it was.
No cracks.
No cuts.
Not even a single drop of water spilled.
"Hahahaha! He missed!" one student shouted.
"Hahahaha!" another continued.
"Hahahahaha!"
Various mocking voices could be heard.
But they all stopped when Weed lightly touched the jar.
It split into two.
The silence was interrupted by the sound of flowing water.
The cut had been so perfect that the jar had not fallen or moved from its place.
It had seemed as if it had not even been cut.
Weed looked directly at the teacher, as if saying:
"Any questions about who the winner is?"
---
Author: Before anyone says that this was stupid and that it makes no sense for Weed to have this level of skill as a swordsman, I would normally agree. But that is not the case here. The master who taught him how to use the sword, Ahn Hyundo/Geomchi was capable of making at least four consecutive cuts before the water jar spilled its water. (cap - 11 manga)
And that was in the real world.