Chapter 52: Training 2

I gasped. The sudden release of pressure was almost as overwhelming as the pressure itself. My body, which had been braced against the crushing force, suddenly had nothing to push against. I swayed. My legs gave out beneath me. I caught myself on one knee, my hands hitting the concrete floor with a sharp crack.

I was panting. My breath was coming in ragged, desperate gasps. My whole body was shaking, shaking like a volcano that was about to erupt. My legs were completely numb, barely responding to my commands. My nose was still bleeding, a steady trickle of red dripping onto the floor. My head was spinning, and also swimming with different visions.

He felt like he’d been hit by an armored truck. No, worse. Like he’d been put through a trash compactor. Every muscle in his body was screaming. His joints ached. His organs felt bruised. He was drenched in sweat, his clothes clinging to him like a second skin.

He wanted to vomit. He wanted to collapse. He wanted to curl up into a ball and never move again. Just to lie down on the ground till God knows when.

But he didn’t. He stayed there, on one knee, panting, bleeding, shaking. And slowly, painfully, he lifted his head.

Shoki was standing in front of me. I don’t even know when he left his position, but looking at the way he looked at me, it felt like it had been a while. He just stood there. He didn’t move. He looked down at the trembling me with that eye that looks as if it has found something fascinating. He looked at the blood on my lip, at the sweat-soaked cloth, at the unyielding and grinding set of my jaw.

He gave a single, sharp nod.

"The body is a liar," Shoki said, his voice still flat, but with a new, subtle resonance. "It will tell you it’s broken long before it is. It will beg you to quit when you’ve barely begun. My style isn’t about the strength of your arm. It’s about the silence you can find inside the storm. The part of you that can listen to the body’s lies and simply... refuse to believe them."

He turned and walked toward a door at the far end of the dojo. He paused with his hand on the frame.

"You said you wanted to learn martial arts," he said, not turning around. "Tomorrow, we start with the basics. Footwork. Breathing. How to stand. Be here at 0800."

The door slid shut, leaving me alone in the vast, silent room.

I finally allowed myself to collapse. I fell onto my right side, my cheek pressed against the cold concrete, my body curling into a fetal position. My body was shaking uncontrollably, muscles spasming, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Tears leaked from his eyes, not from sadness, but from sheer physical overload. His nervous system was fried. His body was in shock.

He lay there for a long time, just breathing. Just existing. The city lights flickered far below, indifferent to his suffering.

Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself up. His arms trembled. His legs barely supported him. He got to his knees, then to his feet, swaying like a drunk.

He looked at the door Shoki had disappeared through. The door wasn’t the door we used when entering. I felt the door led to another place entirely. Then I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. My knuckles were white. There was blood on his fingers.

I couldn’t help but smile because I can feel the change. A kind of training without any power, how worthy and very exhausting.

He was told he couldn’t use his powers, that the room they are in has something that can restrain someone’s power fully.

I then smiled again. But it was a small, tired, broken smile. But it was there.

He had passed the test. Not the test of strength. Not the test of skill. The test of constitution. The test of whether he could endure when his body was screaming at him to quit.

And he knew, with a certainty that burned brighter than any pain, that he would go very, very far.

I then stood up, walked back towards the direction of the bookstore. As I reached there, I left the bookstore, went back to the base to recover. But not without changing back to my original clothes. As I reached home, I just went to take a very cold shower, a cold shower that would help me to fall asleep immediately.

I did not even bother to eat, talk less of even trying to greet both Vivian or the maid. I just jumped on my bed, and immediately fell asleep. It was like my body wants me to quickly rest. That’s why when I touched the bed, it was almost immediate. And it was still in the freaking afternoon. I slept till 6:00 in the morning. I then went to do some little morning activities, like for example, shitting, scrolling through someone’s page, and some other normal activities.

Avery woke up around 7:30, close to two hours after I have woken up. Vivian hadn’t even bothered. She is not a morning person, to be exact. Afternoon is Vivian’s morning. That’s around the time she starts her own life. If there’s no reason for her to wake up in the morning, she would sleep to afternoon, and even evening sometimes. I don’t know if she has gone through her anger phase finish or not.

I was already prepared to leave around the time Avery woke up. So I just greeted her. She asked me if I would like anything to be made, and I nicely declined. I have eaten morning flakes, and I am okay.

I left the house and went back to the bookstore. I met the librarian sitting in the same position I met him the last time. He looked at me and checked the time. After some period of thinking, he stood up from his position. He then gave me a sign for me to follow him.

We walked towards the same position we did last time until we finally reached the underground dojo.

Twenty minutes later.

We stood in front of each other, eyes watching each other’s eyes. My eyes, which were piercing and normal, while also sending a message that I am not taking any shit like yesterday’s own. His own piercing, unrelenting, and completely unreadable. "You want to learn martial arts," he said. It wasn’t a question.

"Yes, Master Shoki," I said, my voice steadier than I actually felt. "I’ve studied your techniques. I’ve heard of the story of a once great, unstable swordmaster. I want to learn everything that could be learned from you. From your techniques, your finesse, and any style you have with your experience. Your ’Ghost Blade’ style is also incredible. I want to learn it."

A flicker of something—not quite amusement, not quite disdain—crossed Shoki’s face. "Before I teach you anything, I need to see what you already know. Not what you’ve watched. Not what you’ve memorized. What your body does when it’s threatened."

"What do you mean?"

I couldn’t help but ask.

Shoki walked to the center of the room and stood facing him, his hands loose at his sides. "Attack me."

I blinked. "What?" I asked to be sure, because I have a dream to beat him mercilessly for the pain he caused me.

"Attack me," Shoki repeated. "However you want. However you know how. Don’t think about technique. Don’t think about what’s correct. Just try to hit me."

I did not even bother to hesitate. This was a dream come true, and I am not wasting the opportunity. I’ve been in fights, and I have also sparred before. I have fought villains, heroes, normal people alike. This doesn’t feel any different. This felt like a honey trap. A beautiful trap I can’t resist.

"I don’t understand," I asked again one more time to be sure. "Aren’t you going to teach me first?"

"I’m going to learn first," Shoki replied. "I need to see your fighting method. Your instincts. The way your body moves when it’s not thinking. That tells me more about you than any form you could demonstrate."

I took a deep breath. I rolled my shoulders, loosening it up. He’d been in enough fights to know that hesitation got you killed. And the time for hesitation is already over. Maybe he could use this to get some punches in. If our dear Master Shoki wants to see what he could do, fine. He’d show him. He would show him by leaving a punch print on his face.

He stepped onto the mat.

The first thing I did was circle.

It was almost instinct-like. I felt that Shoki would be expecting me to attack straight on, so I decided not to attack straight on. I moved. I tested the waters. I looked for openings. I kept my hands up, at the ready, in case I found the perfect opening. It wasn’t any formal guard, just loose, ready, the way I have learned from the Chinese movies I have watched. My feet were flat, not on the balls of my feet like a trained fighter. Well, my future self could say I didn’t know any better.

Shoki didn’t move. He stood there, perfectly still, his hands at his sides. Watching.

I feinted left, then rushed in with a wild right hook, after finding the right opportunity.

It was fast. It was powerful. It was completely unexpected. And I believe it so. My elbow flared out. My weight shifted too far forward. My other hand dropped, leaving his face wide open.

Shoki didn’t even bother to block. He simply leaned back, and the punch whistled past his nose. Then he tapped me lightly on the forehead with two fingers.

"You’re dead," Shoki said.

I stumbled back, my face almost reddening. I then said, "I wasn’t ready."