Patrick Schneider.
His name became so famous that there wasn't a soul in the Knight Faculty of the Academy who didn't know it. In fact, he had been famous in his own way even before. Mid-term transfer students were rare in themselves, and such a rare transfer student had caused a huge incident as soon as he arrived.
And he had done it twice. The first time, when he beat Roist to a pulp, it could have been overlooked. But afterward, defeating even Jordic, a third-year, was a huge issue in the Knight Faculty.
Jordic was a renowned talent, second only to the top student among the third-years of the Knight Faculty, and he was also the son of Marquis Panola. Such a person had been crushed by a first-year he had never even heard of, secluded himself at home, and even submitted a leave of absence.
It was a sufficient incident for the name Patrick Schneider to become famous within the academy. However, up to this point, the image of Patrick was merely that of a skilled freshman.
But...
"Spar with me. You have to do it today."
"Patrick. What are you doing this weekend? Do you want to get an outing permit and go out? I have two tickets to the opera."
"Spare me the time and spar with me instead."
"Oh my, Princess. Is that perhaps an abuse of power?"
"... I don't know. Anyway, spar with me."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
Princess Isabella Black Atronia, the sole flower of the Knight Faculty and the princess of the kingdom. Marianne Parmas, the greatest beauty of the Department of Public Administration and the only daughter of the Eastern Marching Count, Count Parmas.
After these two started visiting Patrick every day and showing such behavior, rumors about Patrick spread beyond the Knight Faculty to the entire academy.
"Hey, did you hear the rumor?"
"Of course. You mean the love triangle surrounding the first-year from the Knight Faculty?"
"One is the Princess, and the other is the Count’s daughter of the Parmas family."
"The Count's daughter of Parmas, you mean her, right? The beauty from the Department of Public Administration who has been confessed to by a string of men since her first year."
"Who in the world is he? To enjoy such good fortune?"
"Who knows? I've never heard the name House of Schneider before."
"Me neither. Is he perhaps rich?"
"No way. I heard it's the poorest fief in the eastern territory."
"Then what is it? Is he handsome?"
"I heard the butler he brings around is handsome."
"Ah, I heard that. They say he has a butler so handsome he doesn't seem human."
"I saw him once, and he was insanely handsome. No, beyond handsome... to the point I couldn't understand why a man could be so beautiful... Hey. It's not. It's not like that. Don't move away."
"Just get away from me."
Just like that, Patrick instantly became a celebrity within the academy. As a bonus, the rumor that he was accompanied by a butler of transcendent beauty spread along with it.
"Just once."
"... For now."
"For now or for later, it's just once. Do you understand?"
Isabella's cheeks puffed out in a pout. The truth was, she didn't know it, but this was something that would have shocked the martial artists of the martial world if they knew.
That notoriously stubborn, good-for-nothing, utterly depraved, and madness-filled Radiant Dragon Grandmaster Jin Cheon, the officially recognized number one scoundrel of the righteous path who wouldn't bat an eye at anything that didn't involve money, had just 'conceded'.
If his friends from his past life had seen this, they would have expressed their concern, thinking, 'Has his time to die finally come?' 'Agh, if only she weren't royalty...' Patrick couldn't help it.
He had faced all sorts of opponents, but royalty was a first... He couldn't beat her up, he couldn't intimidate her, and he couldn't threaten her. In the end, he resisted, saying no until the very end, but his opponent was no ordinary leech.
She clung to him, asking for just one more spar, and honestly, it was incredibly bothersome. She pestered him day and night for a spar, making it difficult for him to even sneak out for a drink at night anymore.
'Right.
A person needs some time to themselves. How can she be so inconsiderate?
So inconsiderate...'
In truth, sneaking out at night to drink was against the school rules, and that very violation was the cause of this whole situation, but was Patrick the kind of person to care about such things?
"Just once. I won't do it again."
"... We'll see."
"What do you mean, we'll see? We'll see what!?"
"Anyway, let's begin."
And Isabella drew her sword first and charged at Patrick. Seeing her, Patrick let out a small sigh and raised his sword to receive her attack.
Kaaang!
With their swords crossed, Isabella moved her feet sideways, trying to circle into Patrick's blind spot. Patrick attacked the direction she was trying to move with the sword in his other hand, and Isabella hastily retreated. And as soon as she retreated, she kicked off the ground with her back foot and thrust her sword forward sharply.
"Haap!"
A sharp thrust, using the sword's tip to lead her entire body in a charge. He deflected the thrust with a swing of his sword.
Kaaang!
Her all-out thrust was pushed back by the strong parry, and her stance, which had been centered on it, faltered. But instead of correcting her faltering balance, she rotated her body and countered with a sharp spinning slash toward Patrick.
Kaaang!
The two swords clashed sharply, sending sparks flying. 'Ooh, she's put some thought into this.' Patrick was slightly impressed as he received Isabella's attacks.
Since she kept shouting for a spar, Patrick thought she was just burning with a competitive spirit towards him. You know how it is, right? That trait of prideful people where, even after a clean defeat, they refuse to accept it, make up some excuse to justify themselves, and delude themselves into thinking they can win if they fight again.
But Isabella was different. If she truly hadn't accepted her defeat, she wouldn't have paid any mind to the weaknesses Patrick had pointed out in their previous spar. But now, she was moving in a way that compensated for the weaknesses Patrick had pointed out, in her own way.
Thanks to that, her sword, which had been confined to the standard forms, was now a bit more free and lively than before. This was not a development that one who refuses to accept defeat could achieve. It was a development rightfully earned because she had accepted her defeat and readily took to heart the opponent's painful critique.
'Well, she still has a long way to go, though.' Still, Patrick continued to receive her sword for a little longer.
If he had his way, he would have just fired off a Flash Dragon Strike right at the start, knocked her unconscious, and ended it, but if he did that, this leech might just cling to him again, begging for one more round. It was better to just do it properly once and get it over with.
"Your gaze shouldn't follow your own sword; you need to look at your opponent. Focus."
"Hup..."
"You can only fight while doing everything you want when you're fighting a lesser opponent. Even if your form is a bit off, if the timing feels right, just force the sword out."
"I got... it!"
Isabella, having received Patrick's critique, immediately corrected that part and charged at him. Patrick received Isabella's sword as if it were a teaching spar, and without realizing it, the corners of his mouth crept up slightly. 'She listens well.
A model student.' When you teach people, it's strange how no two are ever the same. There are people like April, with insane talent, who understand ninety-nine things when you teach them one, and on the other hand, there are slow learners like Matthew, whom you have to painstakingly teach one thing at a time.
Sanson wasn't a genius, but he was a bright student who could understand with effort. Oliver actually had better sense than Sanson, but his physical condition didn't support it, so his body couldn't keep up with his mind. In this way, if you teach a hundred people, each of the hundred will have their own clear strengths and weaknesses.
And Isabella was the same.
'She's smart.
The type whose comprehension is better than her physique. The Jegal Clan had a lot of kids like this.' In Patrick's view, the Jegal Clan's specialties were petty tricks and miscellaneous skills.
[The research and understanding of strategy and contraptions, as well as reading the heavens' secrets to gauge the rise and fall of the world...]
'What's this ugly thing rambling about.'
[You son of a bitch!]
Patrick cleanly ignored someone's protest and continued his thoughts. Anyway, that was the Jegal Clan, but they were still a family of martial arts that trained in martial arts. And sometimes, even from the Jegal Clan, a master of a level that couldn't be ignored would emerge.
How could those delicate scholars, who looked like they had never lifted anything heavier than a book, become masters? In a word, the masters of the Jegal Clan were those who used martial arts efficiently. Using four taels of strength to move a thousand catties.
It was theoretically possible, but frankly, it was a path too different from the one Patrick pursued. But the so-called masters of the Jegal Clan were fellows who obsessed over that ridiculously difficult logic and achieved a level of proficiency that made it possible. What was needed to achieve that?
Nothing else.
You have to be smart. People usually say that when learning martial arts, one must have good comprehension. Most who say that do so because it allows for faster progress.
Having good comprehension means having good understanding, and one with good understanding can grasp more profound teachings in a shorter time. Therefore, their progress is bound to be fast. However, those who were smart enough to go beyond that could add an extreme level of delicacy to their martial arts.
To execute perfect delicacy amidst a fierce battlefield where sword energy and aura fly back and forth to take each other's lives, an extraordinary level of concentration is required. A high level of concentration and cognitive processing power to understand and execute what needs to be done first, even as the opponent's blade is digging into one's own neck.
If one could embody that at a high level, it would truly be possible to move a thousand catties with the strength of four taels. 'She's of that lineage too. What a waste.'
Unfortunately, the swordsmanship of this world was focused on the logic of swiftness, weight, and power. Would it be possible for her to grasp on her own the subtlety of using a small force to move a great weight, which must be executed by adding softness and variation to precise observation?
It might be possible if Isabella were a great master on the level of Bodhidharma or Zhang Sanfeng, but otherwise, it would be impossible. 'I could teach her. It's possible, but…'
"Why should I?"
"What?"
Patrick didn't answer Isabella's question. It was just that Patrick's sword, facing hers, showed a peculiar movement.
Vwooom.
It was a strange sensation to call it a tremor. Patrick's sword, stuck fast to Isabella's, moved at high speed as if vibrating. That small but fast vibration traveled up Isabella's sword, through her wrist, arm, and shoulder, and reached the center of her body.
At that moment, she had a strange feeling. A feeling as if something was digging into her through the sword and interfering with her. She was horrified by the bizarre sensation that her body was out of her control and under her opponent's. And at the moment she tried to forcefully move her body to pull back...
"That's enough."
With Patrick's words, her body floated lightly into the air. One second, two seconds, three seconds, and then...
Thud!
Having been lifted higher than her own head, she fell straight to the ground. And Patrick, looking at her on the ground, pointed his sword at her and said.
"There, the match is over. Are we done now?"
"... How did you do that?"
"Well."
"What? Why? What? Why? Why? Why?"
His personality is really something... In truth, what Patrick had just shown her was a direct demonstration of the subtlety that could best utilize the talent Isabella possessed. He felt it was a waste of her talent, and felt a tiny bit of fondness for how obediently she listened, so he decided to show her just once.
But that was as far as he would go.
"I fed you a spoonful, that should be enough. Do I have to set the table for you for the rest of my life? I'm not your wife, so why should I?"
"That's..."
She was at a loss for words. Patrick sheathed his sword and said.
"Just think about it carefully before you forget. A swordsman is like the earth; if you plant a seed and tend to it with care, it is bound to sprout."
"Really?"
"Of course."
'When it will sprout is purely up to luck, though.' He didn't bother to say the last part out loud. But what could be done?
Enlightenment was originally that kind of thing. Patrick sheathed his sword and said to Isabella.
"I've sparred with you once. Now, really, stop following me around."
"If we just do it one more time..."
Isabella met Patrick's cold eyes and shut her mouth. Until now, Patrick had always sent displeased gazes her way. In fact, receiving such a gaze from a man was an unfamiliar experience, but Patrick was an exception.
But now, the feeling was even more different. Feeling a chill as if a blade was pressed against the nape of her neck, she couldn't bring herself to open her mouth any further. Patrick said to her.
"I hate liars."
"I will assume you have understood me sufficiently."
Having given his notice, Patrick turned and left. In truth, if she had clung to him and insisted further, he would have beaten her senseless without mercy, princess or not, but thankfully, it seemed she had at least a minimal amount of sense.
'Well, if she can digest what I gave her today, in about twenty years, she might be able to use four taels to move ten catties.' Even that would be enough to be usable in a real fight. And Patrick turned his back without a second thought.