Chapter 195: This is the Victory of Science
March 7th's posture was a complete disaster. The way she gripped the hilt was entirely wrong, her center of gravity wobbled with every step, and her footwork was so unsteady a stiff breeze could have knocked her over. To anyone with functioning eyes, it was painfully obvious she hadn't practiced a single day of swordsmanship in her entire life.
Yanqing let out a soft sigh, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. "The Cloud Knights have strict military regulations," the young prodigy stated, crossing his arms. "One must never use their martial prowess to bully the weak."
It was his polite, tactful way of explaining that he absolutely refused to beat up a complete novice. She was so incredibly green that even if he held back to the absolute limit, he might still accidentally hurt her.
Unfortunately for him, both March and Rekka were stubbornly insisting on this little sparring match.
"Since you insist on crossing blades," Yanqing said, his tone shifting into something slightly more formal. "I will put the unpleasant words out there first. I will suppress my strength to below ten percent. This match ends the moment a point is made. If you feel even the slightest pain in your wrist, call for a stop immediately."
"Hey! Who are you looking down on?!" March puffed out her cheeks, brandishing the twin swords awkwardly. "This lady right here is... well, anyway, just bring it on!"
Shaking his head, Yanqing drew his blade. The cold steel glinted under the ambient light as he took a single, measured step forward. He initiated a standard Cloud Knight probing strike—the most basic maneuver in their entire arsenal. The speed was intentionally sluggish, the kinetic force restrained with absolute, pinpoint precision. His sole objective was to gently flick the weapon out of March's right hand, and then smoothly disarm her left in the same fluid motion.
Clang!
A sudden, jarring parry violently redirected his blade, nearly sending Yanqing's sword flying straight out of his grip. His golden eyes widened in shock. It was a flawless counterattack. The deflection had perfectly dissipated his kinetic energy, leaving March completely unharmed while sending a sharp, numbing shockwave straight up Yanqing's arm.
How is this possible? Yanqing thought, his mind racing. The pink-haired girl's footwork was still a sloppy mess. Her posture was riddled with fatal openings, and she clearly didn't understand even the most rudimentary principles of the sword. No, it must have been a fluke. Or perhaps I suppressed my strength far too much.
Calculating his next approach, the young lieutenant flicked his wrist and swiftly flipped backward, creating a safe distance between himself and March.
"That move just now certainly made me see you in a new light," Yanqing admitted, a competitive spark igniting in his eyes. He planted his feet firmly, the tip of his blade angled diagonally toward the ground. "However, the sparring has only just begun. Next, I will increase my strength to twenty percent. My footwork and sword intent will quicken accordingly. Please be careful."
Before the final syllable even left his lips, Yanqing vanished. He moved like a streak of lightning, closing the gap in a fraction of a second.
"Hey, hey, hey! You—slow down!" March shrieked, stumbling backward in a frantic panic. Her brain couldn't even process his speed, let alone command her arms to make a defensive block in time.
Fortunately for her, the twin swords strapped to her hands moved a step ahead of her conscious thought.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
A rapid-fire display of clashing metal erupted across the training ground. To any oblivious bystander, the rhythmic, high-speed ringing sounded exactly like a master blacksmith furiously hammering iron on an anvil. It was that distinct, rapid clanging rhythm entirely unique to a hardcore Soulslike game.
The longer the exchange lasted, the more astounded Yanqing became. His opponent's footwork remained laughably loose and chaotic, yet her parries were absolutely airtight. Every single strike he threw was met with a perfect, mathematically precise deflection. She even had the spare energy to yelp and complain the entire time!
You clearly looked like a total pushover! Yanqing gritted his teeth, his pride stinging. Are you just playing the pig to eat the tiger?!
"I take back what I said earlier!" Yanqing called out, flipping away once more to catch his breath. "You were hiding your deep talents, miss. It was my own eyes that were lacking. Next, I will increase my output to seventy percent strength. Please instruct me!"
The young prodigy formed a sharp sword seal with his fingers. Instantly, six crystal-clear, ethereal flying swords materialized from thin air, hovering menacingly by his sides. He knew he had promised to stop once a point was made, but his youthful, burning competitive spirit had been thoroughly ignited. He refused to be looked down upon.
Seeing the barrage of glowing blades aimed right at her, March let out a terrified squeak and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
Yanqing's jaw practically hit the floor.
She blocked everything... even with her eyes closed?! His mind scrambled for a logical explanation. Is she listening to the wind to determine my position? Has she achieved the legendary state of Sword Heart Clarity?!
In reality, the explanation was far stupider. Rekka had literally tied the hilts of the swords directly to March's hands with industrial-strength bindings. He had casually assured her that as long as she didn't physically amputate her own arms, everything would be fine. No matter what angle or speed Yanqing attacked from, his strikes would be flawlessly neutralized by the automated weapons dragging the screaming archer along for the ride.
If the sword itself is a master of swordplay, then the wielder is invincible. That was perfectly reasonable logic, right?
However, the poor Cloud Knight lieutenant had no idea. Facing the pink-haired girl, Yanqing felt an immense, suffocating pressure bearing down on him, as heavy as a mountain of lead. Sweat poured down his forehead in absolute buckets.
This wasn't a sparring match between equals. She was handling his ultimate techniques with insulting ease.
Ten minutes later, Yanqing sat slumped on a nearby bench. His complexion was completely grey, his eyes hollow and washed out. He looked entirely burned out, his soul practically leaving his body.
This was the absolute victory of science.
The poor kid had exhausted every single sword art he could possibly imagine, yet he hadn't managed to inflict even a fraction of a stagger on her.
"Regarding this battle with me, Miss March..." Yanqing muttered, his voice hoarse and defeated. "What are your thoughts?"
"Uh, the dinging and clanging sounded quite nice?" March scratched her cheek awkwardly, trying to offer a comforting smile. "It feels a bit like... a dance with swords? It was very aesthetic, honestly!"
Rather than martial arts, it was more like a dance.
Very aesthetic.
Yanqing pulled his knees to his chest, feeling incredibly withdrawn from reality.
The peerless swordsmanship he had practiced bitterly for over a decade—bleeding and sweating every single day—was, in the eyes of this supreme master of the Sword Dao, nothing more than a visually pleasing dance routine.
His Dao heart was violently fracturing into a million pieces.
Fortunately for his sanity, Yanqing had previously exchanged a few moves with a certain mysterious, white-haired, blindfolded woman. During that encounter, he had been mercilessly whipped around like a spinning top. Thanks to that lingering trauma, his psyche wasn't entirely fragile. He had already accepted his own deep weakness, so to speak.
"Actually, you're quite impressive, kid." Rekka strolled over, casually untying the heavy bindings securing the twin swords to March's hands. "You were basically playing on maximum difficulty and getting perfectly parried the entire time without giving up."
"What... maximum difficulty?" Yanqing blinked, completely bewildered by the strange terminology. What did that even mean?
"Well, these swords are actually a little invention of mine," Rekka explained cheerfully, spinning one of the blades by the hilt. "The interior logic is basically the same as your Xianzhou flying swords. Your swords are automated combat floating units operated by qi. This one, however, is automatically operated by a high-end micro-computer pre-installed with master-level swordsmanship algorithms. It performs real-time tactical deductions and executes perfect blocks based on a complete, millisecond analysis of aerodynamics, physics, and biological kinematics."
Yanqing's expression completely froze. The color drained from his face all over again. "You mean... I lost to an inanimate object?!"
Seeing the boy's soul about to leave his body for a second time, Rekka quickly pivoted to save his pride. "Ah, well, you can think of it as these two swords actually having sword spirits! Uh, that is... Machine Spirit Sword Souls. Yeah, more or less."
Yanqing's expression shifted from ashen despair to deep suspicion. "...Sword spirits?"
"There's no difference!" Rekka waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, these two swords have genuine sentience, and they are both peerless sword masters in their own right. It wasn't March fighting you just now. It was two legendary sword masters, working in absolute, perfect coordination to fight you."
Yanqing stared hard at the two metallic weapons for a long, silent moment. "But... you clearly just said there was a micro-computer built inside..."
"That was only because I was afraid you wouldn't understand the deep concept of a modern sword spirit, so I used a technological metaphor you could grasp!" Rekka lied smoothly, patting the young lieutenant heavily on the shoulder. "Think about it. Doesn't the Artisanship Commission also pursue forging weapons with true spirituality?"
"Wait, wait, wait." Yanqing crossed his arms, his suspicion only growing. "Isn't this just a high-grade automated flying sword?"
"Don't talk nonsense! Slander!" Rekka planted his hands firmly on his hips, looking deeply offended. "Can the standard flying swords sold by your Xianzhou boast such high intelligence? I think not! These two swords can even talk! They have fully integrated voice lines!"
Yanqing's brow furrowed so tightly it nearly formed a knot.
Ignoring the boy's skepticism, Rekka picked up one of the swords and casually flicked the flat of the blade with his finger. "Come on, Sword Spirit Master. Say hello to this little brother."
In reality, the 'spirit' was just a rudimentary AI persona cobbled together with fourteen lines of algebraic expressions.
"Hello," a flat, synthesized voice buzzed from the hilt.
"See? Sentient!" Rekka grinned, suddenly pulling a completely different longsword from his inventory. "Hey! I actually have a sword right here that is fated to be with you. Do you want to take it? She can accompany you in your daily sword practice, and she is also a peerless sword master."
Without waiting for an answer, Rekka shoved the sleek longsword directly into Yanqing's hands.
"It's a gift for you, completely free of charge. This is a sword soul I manufactured—uh, I mean, I raised. I can see that you are naturally gifted, kid. You will surely be able to make a grand name for yourself across the cosmos with this blade."
"This...?" Yanqing looked down at the weapon, completely lost.
Suddenly, a female voice—a remarkably mature, intellectual, and slightly commanding female voice—rang out clearly from within the flying sword's hilt.
"Are you my disciple?"
Actually, it was just a flying sword with a slight glitch in its audio pack. The voice synthesizer was permanently locked to the voice profile of the Hou-oh Fairy, making it a slightly flawed, defective product.
Being suddenly interrogated by a talking flying sword, Yanqing stood frozen in the courtyard, looking utterly and completely dazed.
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