Martial Dominance

In order to understand how Jiang—who had never once wielded a sword in real life—executed the technique flawlessly, we need to go back to the moment he first opened the Status Window.

At the time, it had seemed like just another feature, buried among countless others.

[Skill: Synchronization]

A passive ability that allows the user to replicate techniques they have previously learned, but its effectiveness is limited by physical conditioning and comprehension—without the necessary strength, control, or understanding, even a perfectly remembered technique may falter.

Back then, Jiang had barely given it a second glance. Why would he care about a skill that let him replicate techniques he had learned beforehand when the old Jiang hadn't even mastered a single mid-tier martial art—let alone a high-tier one? Using those low-tier skills would only make him look worse, not better.

It had been nothing more than an insignificant line of text. A footnote. Something that wouldn't change anything.

Or so he had thought.

But in hindsight, the signs had been there all along.

His movements were too natural. The way his body adjusted instinctively, the way he knew the exact spacing between steps, the way his weight shifted in perfect alignment—even though he had never trained in real life.

It wasn't just familiarity. It wasn't muscle memory.

It was something deeper.

At first, he dismissed it. The mind adapts quickly, right? Maybe he was just getting used to this body faster than expected.

Then he met Yue.

It wasn't that she fought. It wasn't that she used a sword. No, it was the way she moved.

Too smooth. Too controlled. Every shift in her stance felt precise—almost practiced.

That was when Jiang's instincts sharpened.

His observation skills had already significantly improved since arriving in this world. He had caught himself noticing details he would have overlooked before—the subtle tension in people's shoulders, the unconscious shifts in weight when someone was hiding something, the faint tremors of hesitation before they spoke.

And now, that same awareness had picked up on something else.

Yue's confidence in her movements wasn't normal. It was the confidence of someone whose body already knew how to move before their mind even thought about it.

Just like him.

That was when doubt crept in.

Hadn't he been doing the same?

He had never trained in a real-life martial world. His only experience came from years of playing God's Game. And yet, his body carried itself as if he had trained for years.

The realization hit him like a hammer.

And then, standing outside the Sword Hall, staring at his Status Window again, everything clicked.

Synchronization wasn't just useful.

It was everything.

Because every technique, every movement, every instinct he had refined through thousands of hours in God's Game—

They weren't just memories.

They were his reality now.

That was the difference. Unlike anyone else in this world, he wasn't starting from zero. He didn't have to learn from scratch.

He already knew how to fight.

He just had to execute.

From the moment he understood this, his plan had already been set in motion.

Whether the trial existed or not. Whether they challenged him or not.

It didn't matter.

He was going to humiliate them using his own Martial Arts anyway.

And now, standing amidst the stunned crowd, he had done just that.

The only sound was the lingering echo of Jiang's final movement, still reverberating in the stunned minds of those who had watched. 

Then, with deliberate intent, he tossed the sword forward, letting it spin through the air before it landed near Sword Hall's Master, Wei, and the other Hall Master—the woman—with a sharp, metallic clang.

No one moved.

The disciples, who had been jeering seconds ago, were now frozen. Their earlier amusement had twisted into something closer to horror. Even those who had dismissed him as a fraud were struggling to process what they had just witnessed.

Wei's face remained carefully blank. Too blank. His expression, which had once carried an edge of confidence, now looked artificial—forced. 

But his hands betrayed him. 

A slight tremor ran through his fingers, barely noticeable but there, a crack in the otherwise impenetrable mask he had worn throughout the match. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscle twitching, as if he were holding back a reaction he couldn't afford to show.

Poker face.

Jiang had seen players use the same tactic in God's Game. Pretending they were unaffected, that they still had control, even when they had already lost. But Wei's silence wasn't just calculated—it was defensive.

Because the truth was clear.

He hadn't expected this.

And neither had she.

The woman's reaction was even sharper. Her gaze flickered between Jiang and the sword, back and forth, as if her mind was rejecting what her eyes had seen.

There was no accusation, no immediate denial—only hesitation. Her fingers twitched near the hilt of her sword, a brief, instinctive movement—like a warrior's reflex when faced with something beyond reason.

Her arms remained crossed, her posture upright, but the way she shifted her weight told Jiang everything. Just like Wei, she was struggling to maintain her composure.

Jiang knew that feeling well. The disbelief. The frustration. The desperate need to explain away the impossible.

But there was no explanation.

The rest of the crowd fared no better. The tension that had once been directed at Jiang—the laughter, the mockery, the dismissive sneers—had vanished. In its place was something heavier, something that pressed against the air itself.

Not just silence.

Doubt.

For the first time, they weren't looking at Jiang as an outsider playing pretend.

They were looking at him as something else entirely.

The only exceptions were Bai and Yue.

Jiang Bai didn't react. Her face remained calm, her posture steady, as if this was the most natural outcome in the world.

Yue, on the other hand, was slightly confused. But there was something else in her expression—At first disbelief, but soon turned into delight.

Jiang turned without a word and began walking away.

Wei and the woman didn't stop him. Didn't say a single word. Just watched them leave.

Qian Yue and Jiang Bai followed.

As they stepped past the Sword Hall's entrance, Yue finally broke the silence.

"By the way, Senior Brother… Why did we come here?"

Jiang paused.

A realization hit him.

He had walked in, humiliated them, caused a scene so dramatic it would be talked about for months—and now, he was just… leaving?

His mind raced.

How was he supposed to answer that?

Should he come up with some grand excuse? Should he act like this was all part of a bigger political scheme?

Before he could respond, Bai spoke.

"Young Master, about my sword—"

Jiang immediately cut her off. "I'll buy a new one for you."

Bai nodded. "Thank you, Young Master."

That should have been the end of it.

But Yue was still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

Jiang said nothing.

He just kept walking.