1:The Way of the Sword

At the Municipal Youth Palace, the Musashi Kendo Training Center. In the center of the arena, two individuals wearing kendo protective gear and holding bamboo swords face each other. The tip of the bamboo sword on the left side slightly trembles. It is not the holder's fear, but rather a probe, while also concealing the potential attack that could come in the next moment. This is akin to the feints in Taekwondo, Sanda, and Jeet Kune Do. However, the individual on the right makes no move—no movement in any sense. The bamboo sword in his hand remains steady, his breathing calm and long, and only his feet make small shifts, adjusting to find the optimal position for defense and counterattack.

The arena is quiet. Countless eyes are fixed on the duel, but a kendo match is not like a typical combat sport, where attacks come in rapid exchanges. Victory or defeat is often decided in a single moment, as suddenly as the clap of thunder. In the era of wandering swordsmen, when the thunder struck, it was not met with applause, but with a silent rain of blood.

The stillness lasts for two full minutes, as neither swordsman moves. They only shift, advance, and retreat, yet neither makes the first strike.

At the three-minute mark, the person on the left, having tested the waters for so long, can no longer hold back. A roar erupts from beneath his face guard, reverberating through the arena — yet he still does not strike.

The person on the right remains unperturbed by this sudden burst of energy. He doesn't move, not even the slightest tremor in his bamboo sword.

At three minutes and twenty seconds, the left-side swordsman finally makes his move. Without any warning, his bamboo sword rises high and executes a downward strike that he has practiced thousands of times.

The right-side swordsman, however, responds the moment his opponent raises his sword. His bamboo sword intercepts the downward strike with a sharp deflection, stepping forward as his opponent fails to regain his balance, delivering a clean, decisive downward strike to his opponent's head.

A duel that had lasted three minutes and ended in mere seconds. The arena erupts in thunderous applause, accompanied by the cheers of children.

This is the largest youth center in the city, so there are many children present. Therefore, the duel taking place is not a world-renowned contest between sword masters, but rather a demonstration match in the kendo training class at the Youth Palace, designed to showcase the appeal of kendo to the children and their accompanying parents, in hopes of recruiting new students for the spring semester.

"If my face weren't still numb from the shock, I would think I was just dreaming," the person on the left said as he removed his face guard, revealing the face of a middle-aged man, likely in his forties, with a look of disbelief and amazement.

The victorious swordsman on the right also removed his face guard. However, beneath it was the face of a young boy, his black hair and black eyes reflecting an expression of calm, without the slightest sign of joy from his victory.He bowed to the middle-aged man, then stood up and said, "Youth is feared in boxing, and the same applies to the way of the sword."

"It's still about reflexes and speed. But you need to change your habit of always playing defensively without testing the waters. Not attacking first puts you at a disadvantage," the middle-aged man said, holding the face guard against his waist and admiring the boy, who looked to be around sixteen or seventeen. "If your foundation weren't something I taught you, I'd actually think you've been learning swordsmanship since you were in the womb. A sudden burst of energy like earlier wouldn't have even shaken your footing."

In kendo, "ki-ai" refers to the sudden shout made during combat, a tactic used to startle and intimidate the opponent. Nowadays, many people refer to it as a "battle cry." As long as your voice is loud enough, a sudden shout can shock the enemy, causing them to make a mistake, allowing you to strike through the opening.

"Coach, you're overthinking it," the boy finally showed a helpless smile on his face. "I really just have fast reflexes. When you shouted earlier, I could tell from your grip that you didn't exert any force with your fingers. How could I possibly fall for that?"

"You still call me coach?" The middle-aged man glanced over at the excited children and the parents rubbing their sore faces by the sidelines, then sighed. "I passed my 6th Dan last year, and yet I lost to you. Do I still have any face left?"

"A disciple isn't necessarily worse than the master," the boy shook his head. "Besides, I was taught by you. Doesn't that mean your teaching skills are far superior to your own?"

"That's a good point," the middle-aged man pondered for a moment, but after a few seconds, he immediately came to his senses and spat, "You've only beaten me a few times and you're already saying you've surpassed me? Have you even passed your dan test yet? Have you practiced your stance and footwork?"

"Alright, alright, alright," the boy wisely decided to avoid the topic. "But why didn't you invite Senior Brother Chu Zihang? Why did you ask me to come back for this demonstration?"

"Isn't he busy with the college entrance exam this year?" The coach shook his head. "Besides, I'm not very familiar with him. If it weren't for you, that kid wouldn't have anything to do with me. He stopped coming to practice after graduating from elementary school. He only comes back occasionally as an honorary alumnus for events. And why should I ask him? Isn't it better to have you here as the labor?"

"Just because he has his exams doesn't mean I don't have mine," the boy sighed. "Plus, I think Chu Zihang is better-looking than me. Having him in the demonstration would be more appealing and could balance the energy at your kendo dojo."

"Nonsense, you're handsome too, just as good as him," the coach laughed, showing his white teeth. He then put his left arm around the boy and snapped several pictures in front of the parents and students. In the crowd, a beautiful blonde foreign girl was taking pictures of the two with a camera.

"It's coming soon," the boy smiled in front of the camera. After the photos, he immediately put away his fake smile and said calmly, "Whatever, I'll leave it to fate.""How can you just leave it to fate?" The coach patted the boy on the shoulder. "You still have to study, broaden your horizons. Plus, you have naturally fast reflexes and great coordination. If you're interested, you could develop a future in kendo. I can introduce you to some opportunities—after all, your coach here is a 6th Dan."

"A 6th Dan at forty-three," the boy said bluntly, stabbing where it hurt. "When are you planning to take the 7th Dan exam?"

"Five years from now. The rules are the rules." The coach sighed before chuckling. "It's a shame the system is so rigid. Otherwise, with your skills, if you train properly, I'd say making it to Kensei (Sword Saint) before thirty wouldn't be an issue."

"Don't flatter me to death. Kendo is just a hobby for me." The boy's tone lacked enthusiasm despite his coach's praise.

"Enjoy your youth, kid. Get into a relationship in high school to gain some experience, so you won't be completely clueless when you get to college." The coach sighed. "I heard that on rainy days, the entrance of Shilan High School is packed with luxury cars like a car exhibition. Plenty of rich young ladies in there—you should aim for one. That way, your college tuition will be taken care of."

"What the hell kind of advice is that?" The boy shot him a look of disbelief. "I never expected you to be the type to live off women and manipulate feelings. A real scumbag, huh?"

"If I could live off a woman, I absolutely would," the coach said with an exaggerated sigh. "But alas, time waits for no man. You, on the other hand, with that face of yours—it's a real waste if you don't."

"I have a perfectly fine stomach. I prefer eating solid meals, thanks. And besides, I'm not interested in that kind of thing. No one would like me anyway," the boy said, shaking his head.

"Enough with the false modesty. You think I don't know how popular you are at school? Plenty of girls like you. Young people should stop filling their heads with angsty poetry and resentment toward the world—fill them with butterflies and springtime romance instead." The coach gave the boy a playful shove, then kicked him lightly on the backside. "Go do whatever you need to do. Pick up your pay at the front desk later."

"Wait, there's payment for this? I thought this was a voluntary demonstration match?" The boy stopped and turned around in surprise.

"Have you saved up enough for next year's tuition?" The coach raised an eyebrow.

"It's still early for that," the boy said with a helpless smile.

"It's not early. Focus on studying in your second year, maybe even chase a girl or two. Don't waste your prime years working part-time," the coach waved him off and turned toward the group of eager children waiting on the sidelines. "Go on, study hard and aim high. I'll call you again for the next demo match—just remember to go easy on me."

The boy paused for a moment, then said nothing—he just smiled slightly and turned to leave.

"Oh, right—Lin Nian," the coach suddenly called out.

The boy stopped and turned back. "What?"

"Nothing much," the coach said casually. "Just wanted to let you know—my daughter said she saw your sister a few days ago. A new café just opened in the High-Tech District."

"Was she working?" The boy froze for a moment.

"Yeah, just thought you should know." The coach nodded.

"I got it," the boy replied. "I'm leaving now."

"Alright."

With that, the boy picked up his face guard, carried his bamboo sword, and walked out of the hall.

Yet, for some reason, his figure seemed noticeably heavier as he left.