As Patrick saw it, if he told April not to follow, she might leave a note saying, ‘I am sorry for not being of help to the young master,’ and take her own life. She was the kind of person who would do just that.

‘Kngh, is there no other way? This messes up my plans.’

Originally, he had intended for April to be in charge of the soldiers' training during his absence. But if April was leaving with him...

‘Is there no choice? Well, I suppose the time has come.’

If the best option was not available, choosing the next best was the realistic way to handle things. Patrick looked at his father and spoke.

"Father, I have one request."

"What is it?"

"Tomorrow..."

After hearing Patrick's words, Baron Schneider showed a slightly surprised expression and asked again.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. With both myself and April gone, this is something that can no longer be postponed."

“…”

Baron Schneider thought for a moment before nodding and saying.

"Understood. I have already entrusted that part to you, so I will follow your opinion."

"Thank you. Then let's do it tomorrow."

And just like that, a rather important matter was decided on the spot. The next day.

For the first time in a while, Patrick came out to the training grounds. He had been too busy preparing to study abroad to come out, but today he made an appearance. Accompanied by April, Patrick spoke to the soldiers.

"All units, fall in."

At Patrick’s command, all 200 soldiers lined up in perfect formation. Looking at the soldiers who exuded an aura as sharp as a blade, Patrick said, "Today, we will conduct some special training."

"What kind of special?"

"What is he planning to do?"

To the murmuring soldiers, Patrick said, "Sanson, step forward."

"Yes, sir."

"We will now begin sparring. Jackson."

"Yes, sir!"

"You will face Sanson. The spar will be conducted with wooden swords, and aura is forbidden."

"Yes, sir!"

The two men answered vigorously and took their stances. And when Patrick gave the word to begin, their bodies shot forward and clashed.

Twaack!

After the first clash, the two men took a step back, and four wooden swords danced through the space between them.

Clack-clack-clack! Clack! Twaack!

‘This is good.’

Watching the scene, Patrick was reminded of a fond memory. A long, long time ago, when the disciples of the Twin Dragon Sect would diligently swing their wooden swords before him. The sword art the soldiers were currently learning was the Dragon Serpent Sword Dance, both the introductory and main martial art of the Twin Dragon Sect.

He had taught it to the soldiers under the name Dancing Sword, but it was originally an introductory martial art to progress to the Twin Dragon Eight Sword Forms, and its creation had a story of its own. Dragon Serpent Sword Dance.

According to the stories, it was a martial art created by the founding ancestor of the Twin Dragon Sect quite late in his life. At first, there was no need to create it. With just the Twin Dragon Eight Sword Forms, he was already one of the most powerful martial artists in the martial world at the time.

But after establishing a sect and accepting disciples, he came to a realization.

[Why can't these kids do it?]

No matter how kindly he taught, how much he yelled, or how strictly he guided them, the disciples he accepted could not properly use the Twin Dragon Eight Sword Forms. Among them, some forced themselves to follow and fell into energy deviation, while others gave up on their own, saying they could not keep up.

For the ordinary people who couldn't, practicing this was the best they could do, and eventually, after the founding ancestor's death, it became the main martial art of the Twin Dragon Sect. How could a sect whose main martial art was a sword dance with no practical application have any power?

After that, it took no time at all for the Twin Dragon Sect to be relegated to a third-rate sect. That is, until the moment Jin Cheon later joined. In the process of improving the Twin Dragon Sect's martial arts, Jin Cheon had modified this Dragon Serpent Sword Dance to a certain extent, making it practical for real combat.

He kept the introductory process for entering the Twin Dragon Eight Sword Forms, which was the original intention of the founding ancestor, while instilling practical combat applications within it. In fact, that Jin Cheon was able to do this was proof that his insight into martial arts was on par with the founding ancestor.

The ones who had been taught this new Dragon Serpent Sword Dance were none other than the soldiers of the Schneider Fief. Since the basic form of the sword art was a sword dance, it had a fluid and splendid appearance.

When those who trained in the same Dragon Serpent Sword Dance began to spar, it created a magnificent and exquisite spectacle, as if they were performing a synchronized dance. Just like right now.

‘For a bunch of chicks, they've grown up quite a bit.’

In particular, Sanson had recently been showing signs of breaking away from the form. He was showing signs of trying to shed his current self, like a snake shedding its skin. Today was the day for what Patrick had prepared for such a Sanson.

Clack-clack-clack!

After about fifty exchanges had passed.

“…”

Jackson became flustered by Sanson's ever-increasing sword speed. And in that moment, Sanson's sword moved in an unpredictable direction, flicking Jackson’s wooden sword upwards from below. As a result, Jackson's hands flew high into the air as if cheering, leaving a wide opening.

And in the very next moment, Sanson's wooden sword turned into a streak of light and...

"Good work."

"Haaa..."

Jackson felt Sanson's wooden sword at his neck and let out a sigh. For a moment, despite it being a wooden sword, the strike that flew with the force and speed to sever his neck had killed its momentum the instant it touched his skin. The fief's soldiers now knew as well.

That this was by no means an easy feat.

"The match is over."

As Patrick declared victory, Sanson smiled and said, "Good work."

"You worked hard."

The two men were about to clear the area for the next stage.

But…

"Sanson, you stay."

"Sir?"

"Stay."

"... Yes. Understood."

At Patrick's words, Sanson thought it was a bit strange, but he remained. He certainly still had energy left and felt he could face a few more opponents.

"Gerrick, come forward. You'll face Sanson."

"Yes, understood."

"Begin immediately!"

At Patrick's command, Gerrick immediately raised his sword and faced Sanson. And once again, the two men's wooden swords mixed in a dazzling display, and after about 40 exchanges, the match was decided.

"Good work."

"You worked hard."

And as the match ended, Patrick...

"Next, Taylor, get up here."

"Yes, sir."

"Begin immediately."

"Young master. I..."

"Begin!"

As Patrick commanded sternly, Sanson and Taylor flinched. And then, they finally began to realize. This was different from their usual sparring.

"Haaaahp!"

Bii-eeok!

After 200 exchanges, Sanson had subdued Nelson. However, it seemed his earlier composure was gone, as he couldn't stop his sword in front of his opponent and ended up striking Nelson on the crown of his head.

"Huk... Huk..."

He was out of breath. Nelson was the twelfth opponent to come up, and in that time, Sanson had fought against a total of twelve soldiers. Now, he was gasping for air, and the arm holding his sword was trembling.

Sanson looked at Patrick. His gaze held the question of whether he had to continue...

"Next, Harley, get up here."

"Yes... Yes, sir!"

"Begin immediately!"

Without fail, Patrick sent up the thirteenth opponent. 'Damn it, what is he trying to do?' Sanson gritted his teeth and swung his sword at the thirteenth opponent.

"What? This is..."

"This isn't the usual training, is it?"

"Did the captain... no, did our big brother do something wrong?"

"Shh, watch your mouth."

"But this..."

The soldiers murmured among themselves. At first, they thought it was just ordinary sparring, but the atmosphere was entirely different. Sanson remained while the soldiers continued to take turns attacking him.

The number of sparring partners had already exceeded thirty, and Sanson's sword had already lost its initial sharpness.

Twaack!

"Keuk..."

Sanson, who blocked the sword of an opponent he could usually defeat with ease, staggered. And the opponent, who should have seized that opportunity to attack, hesitated.

Then...

"Do it properly!"

Patrick let out an enraged roar. Startled by it, the soldier jumped in surprise and rushed forward. And with his follow-up attack, Sanson staggered backward, fell, and as a result, couldn't block the opponent's sword from reaching his neck.

"Ah... as expected."

"This is as far as he goes."

"Even for the captain, more than thirty was too much."

Seeing this, the other soldiers felt both regret and relief. And Patrick, instead of declaring the opponent's victory...

Smack!

He slapped the soldier who had beaten Sanson across the cheek. Then, he grabbed the dazed soldier by the collar and growled.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You think this spar is a joke?"

"N-No, sir."

"April."

"Yes, young master."

"Take this pathetic bastard and run him ragged until he's half-dead."

"Yes, sir."

Receiving Patrick's order, April took the soldier to one side of the training grounds. And Patrick spoke.

"I'll say this now. Anyone who goes easy or slacks off in this spar will die by my hand."

At those words, Patrick continued speaking to the murmuring soldiers.

"If you think I'm joking, go ahead and try it. If I make an example of one of you and his head flies, maybe idiots like you will come to your senses."

In that moment, Patrick's killing intent spread coldly through the crowd, and a chill went down the soldiers' spines. The moment they heard Patrick's grim threat, the soldiers realized they absolutely could not afford to take it easy. Returning to his spot, Patrick said, "Next, Paulo."

"Yes, sir."

"Begin immediately."

And so, the sparring began again. A hellish spar that continued on and on, even though Sanson had lost.

The 40th...

Sanson kept winning and losing, somehow managing to endure. But by the 50th opponent, it became impossible to win anymore. He was repeatedly and miserably beaten and thrown around by subordinates he could normally defeat with ease.

But it didn't matter how many times he lost or was broken. Patrick heartlessly designated the next opponent. 'What is this?

Is he trying to kill me?' Sanson was now feeling fear. He couldn't think of a reason.

But in Patrick's actions, which were pushing him to the brink, Sanson instinctively sensed the fear of death.

'I...

I have to run...'

"Next, Gray, begin immediately!"

But following Patrick's command, the next opponent mercilessly came up. Without any consideration for Sanson's state, a wooden sword swung mercilessly, and Sanson reflexively moved his body to dodge it. But he couldn't dodge the second attack that followed.

Twaack!

"Keuk..."

An attack he could normally block with composure now made his body stagger. He somehow managed to block that attack and retreat, but the opponent's attacks pursued him relentlessly.

Clack! Clack-clack!

In the end, unable to hold on for more than a few exchanges, Sanson's balance crumbled, and the opponent's sword flew toward him. Knowing full well it was coming, but unable to block it, Sanson gritted his teeth.

But... Twaack! 'Huh?'

It was strange. An attack he couldn't block. He was sure he had been hit.

But his wooden sword was blocking the opponent's. And the wooden sword held in his other hand flew towards the opponent's neck.

"Keuk..."

The opponent was flustered by the unexpected counterattack, and in that gap, Sanson corrected his posture. 'What was that?' He had defended and countered unconsciously.

His consciousness had clearly resigned itself to defeat, but his body had reacted on its own and saved him from the crisis. This was the first time he had ever felt something like this.

And...

"Haaahp!"

Sanson swung his wooden swords towards the opponent who was charging at him again. In a natural state, with all the strength drained from his body, Sanson's smoothly swung swords were gradually accelerating.

"Huh? What's that?"

"Did that guy suddenly take some medicine?"

"Why is he recovering?"

The soldiers who had been watching Sanson with pity now watched with their eyes wide open. Sanson, who had been crawling on the floor on the verge of collapse, was starting to come back to life, little by little. The speed of his sword was the same as in the beginning, no, it seemed to be getting even faster.

His expression had changed somehow. The face of Sanson, who just moments before had been utterly exhausted, was now filled with vitality.

‘He's got the gist of it. But from here on is what's important.’

Patrick watched Sanson, who was swinging his sword in a half-unconscious state, with a calm gaze. The 60th opponent, the 70th opponent. Sanson continued the sparring, repeating wins and losses.

And at the 80th opponent.

"Next!"

Sanson, having knocked away his opponent's sword, shouted confidently.