Chapter 25: The Sword Tournament: Part 1

The teacher picked up his backpack next to the table and walked out of the classroom, leaving the students with a sense of curiosity and anticipation. A few minutes later, he returned, but something was amiss this time: he wasn't wearing his glasses. His gaze was just as penetrating, but there was something different in his demeanor.

"Pack everything up, we're leaving and won't be coming back to class," he said to the students with a firm and decisive voice.

Although some of the students found it odd that he looked exactly like the previous teacher but without glasses, they began to gather their things. Most simply stowed their belongings into their storage rings and followed the teacher out of the classroom, exchanging looks of confusion and curiosity.

They walked silently through the school corridors, their steps echoing on the marble floor. Finally, they arrived at a grassy area, a clearing surrounded by tall trees that filtered the sunlight, creating a tranquil and serene atmosphere. The teacher stopped and said, "Alright, this is a good spot. Take a lotus position."

The students sat in that pose, some more easily than others, adjusting themselves on the fresh grass. The teacher observed them for a moment, assessing their readiness and attitude before speaking.

"Firstly, let me introduce myself," he began, his voice softer but full of authority. "I am the twin brother of your previous teacher. I provide practical lessons when it comes to being soul masters."

The students, surprised, exchanged curious glances. The idea of having a second teacher who looked so much like the first but with a different approach sparked expectations, and a murmur of excitement ran through the group.

The teacher continued, "Alright, first we will meditate for ten minutes, because I see some of you are not fully present."

With deliberate gesture, he pulled out an hourglass from his backpack and flipped it over. "Start meditating. When all the sand has passed, ten minutes will have gone by," he said, placing it in a visible spot for everyone.

Almost all the students began to meditate, adopting relaxed postures and closing their eyes. The sound of wind whispering through the trees and the distant chirping of birds created a conducive environment for meditation. However, some simply closed their eyes without any real intention to meditate, their minds wandering far from the clearing.

The teacher, with a sharp gaze, approached one of them and clapped loudly near their ears, causing the student to almost jump in surprise. "Focus," he whispered firmly before moving on.

He walked slowly among the students, closely observing each gesture and breath. If he found someone not truly meditating, he repeated the action of clapping near their ears. The cool breeze caressed his face as he moved with grace and determination.

If the same student failed to meditate again, this time he gave them a light slap, ensuring they understood the importance of meditation. "Meditation is crucial for enhancing soul power," he said in a low but firm voice, while the students nodded seriously.

Gradually, the students began to concentrate more, understanding that the teacher would not tolerate lack of seriousness in practice. The initial tension dissipated, and a deep calm began to envelop the clearing. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting patterns of light and shadow on the students' serene faces.

The teacher, satisfied with their progress, stopped in the center of the group and closed his eyes, joining the meditation. His calm and authoritative presence served as a guide for the students, who now breathed in unison, feeling the energy of the surroundings and their own souls.

When the last grain of sand fell in the hourglass, the teacher opened his eyes and smiled slightly. "Well done," he said in a gentle but approving voice. "Now we are ready to proceed with our practical lesson."

The teacher stood up with a fluid motion, took the hourglass, and carefully stored it in his backpack. The children also stood up, now calmer, some even yawning and others stretching to release accumulated tension. The atmosphere had transformed; the calm of meditation had left a sense of serenity in the air.

The teacher observed them attentively, quickly counting the number of students. Then, with a decisive gesture, he pulled out 16 wooden swords from his backpack, each polished and balanced for training. He distributed them among the students, keeping one for himself. The students received the swords with a mix of excitement and respect, feeling the weight and texture of the wood in their hands.

"Since most, or almost all of you, haven't acquired a ring yet, today we will have a sword tournament," announced the teacher, his voice firm yet enthusiastic, resonating in the clearing. The students' eyes gleamed with anticipation, and a murmur of excitement swept through the group.

Next, the teacher took out 16 sticks from his backpack, each marked with a number except one that was blank. "Come and draw a stick. There are seven numbers and one blank stick. Whoever finds the blank stick can skip the round," he explained, holding the sticks in his outstretched hand.

The students lined up in an orderly fashion, their faces showing a mix of curiosity and nervousness. One by one, they approached the teacher and drew a stick, returning to their positions with their hearts pounding. Some looked at their sticks with relief, while others exchanged competitive glances.

Xue Feng approached Xue Sha with a curious smile and a spark of excitement in his eyes. "Sha Sha, what number did you get?" he asked, his voice full of anticipation.

Although Xue Sha didn't like being called that, with a resigned gesture, he showed his stick to Xue Feng, revealing the number engraved on it.

Seeing the number on the stick, Xue Feng commented with a smile, "So you got number one. I got number seven. Good luck, hope to see you in the final, Sha Sha."

The teacher, observing the students with a sharp gaze, asked aloud, "Who drew number one?"

Xue Sha and another student, a tall, sturdy boy named He Ming, stepped forward, raising their hands to indicate they had drawn number one. The teacher nodded, evaluating both of them carefully. The tension in the air was palpable, and the other students watched with interest, eager to see the first match.

The teacher pointed to a cleared area, free of trees and obstacles. "You can fight there," he said, his voice resonating with authority.

Xue Sha and He Ming nodded and headed to the designated area. They positioned themselves opposite each other, maintaining a respectful distance. With synchronized movements, they performed the traditional Chinese salute: they slightly bowed their torsos while clasping hands, one in a fist and the other in a palm, holding the fist before bowing.

With palpable determination, Xue Sha lunged forward, facing He Ming with renewed intensity. Both adopted blocking stances, their swords clashing constantly in a continuous clash of wood against wood. Xue Sha, with his basic yet growing skill, began to attack with agile and precise movements, seeking to breach He Ming's defense.

He Ming, with his style resembling the grace of a crane, moved with fluidity and agility, dodging Xue Sha's attacks and looking for opportunities to counterattack. His movements were elegant and calculated, as if he were dancing in the air. With a quick turn, He Ming executed a crane-like attack, raising his sword in a wide descending arc, aiming at Xue Sha's vulnerable points.

Xue Sha, initially at a disadvantage, gradually became familiar with his opponent's movements. Each exchange of blows was a learning experience, an opportunity to improve his technique. He responded with basic yet effective attacks, such as direct stabs and horizontal cuts, keeping He Ming on the defensive.

The fight intensified with each passing second. The sound of swords clashing filled the clearing as both fighters exerted themselves to the fullest. He Ming, with the precision of a hunting crane, launched a series of rapid and accurate attacks, forcing Xue Sha to retreat and defend with all his strength.

Xue Sha saw an opportunity and, with a bold move, executed his final attack, infusing his soul power into the sword in an attempt to secure victory. With a cry of determination, he launched a vertical slash towards He Ming, hoping to break his defense.

But something went wrong. The sword began to vibrate violently, emitting an ominous hum as cracks formed on its surface. Xue Sha, alert to the imminent danger, acted quickly. With no time to hesitate, he delivered a powerful kick to He Ming, pushing him back forcefully and jumping to the side.

With a dull thud, the sword shattered into multiple fragments. The released energy aura dissipated into the air, leaving a tense silence in the clearing. Xue Sha, panting and with a racing heart, looked at the remnants of his sword as the impact of what had happened settled in his mind. He Ming, surprised but unharmed, straightened up and looked at Xue Sha with a mix of fear and relief.