Chapter 8
It was the seventh day since I began training.
And once again, Jayvolg was spouting nonsense from the crack of dawn.
“Good morning, Young Master! Today, we’ll be learning about imperial swordsmanship. This particular form was developed from a lineage of techniques used by imperial soldiers, and the founder—”
“Do you not know?”
“Yes?”
“This isn’t a lesson. It’s my morning walk.”
“…Ah.”
Jayvolg froze like his heart had stopped.
His eyes slowly shifted.
Once to the blooming flower fields of Mount Laktea, then back to me.
Don’t tell me… he actually didn’t realize?
His way of thinking was truly something else.
But before I could dwell on it, a twitch crept onto his face.
“Sword training knows no time or place, Young Master.”
Called it.
Next thing I knew, he’d be showing up just before bed.
Then, if he got bolder, he’d probably try to barge in while I was on the toilet.
If anyone truly embodied the phrase “sword demon,” it was Jayvolg.
Still, choosing him as my instructor hadn’t been a mistake.
Lately, I’d been slowly chipping away at him, arguing with every word he said, pushing back on every suggestion.
He was nearly at the breaking point.
Just a little more, and he’d snap.
Now that I had the bare minimum strength to face him properly…
Maybe it was time to make my move.
I looked at Jayvolg and began slowly, deliberately.
“Jayvolg. I’ve said it before, but I’m not interested in swordsmanship.”
“If the heir to House Pador has no interest in the sword, then what should he be interested in?! That’s dereliction of duty, Young Master!”
The way he spoke, you’d think he was the one born into House Pador.
Sure, I knew he cared in his own way.
But most of the time, his concern turned into pointless overreach.
He’d been ramming through lesson after lesson, all while ignoring whether they fit my body or temperament.
This body wasn’t built for swords.
It was perfectly suited for the Tang Clan’s martial arts.
Back in my first life, I was blinded by admiration and tunnel vision… obsessed with swords to the point of ignoring everything else.
And what did that get me?
Nothing but proof that the sword and I were never meant to be.
Sure, I could wield one if I had to.
But it didn’t align with me.
What suited me better were techniques that used my hands directly.
Or throwing blades like the Tang’s concealed weapons.
That was my true affinity.
If someone with real insight had guided me back then—someone other than Jayvolg—they would’ve seen it right away and pointed me in a different direction.
Still, I decided to try persuading him one more time.
“Can’t we focus on something else instead? It’s not like swords are the only weapons in the world.”
“There you go again! Young Master, how do you not get tired of saying the same thing every time?”
Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?
Completely missing the point, Jayvolg clenched his fist and raised it dramatically to the sky.
“The sword is the most noble and majestic of all weapons! Nothing compares to its greatness!”
There he goes again. What a clown.
That’s such a rigid, narrow-minded way of thinking.
People are all different—Body types, flexibility, natural talents. Everything varies.
And that’s why countless martial arts have been developed and refined over the centuries.
Even in the Tang clan, while hidden weapons were their specialty, anyone who showed aptitude in another area was supported in that path.
Forcing someone into something they’re not suited for only leads to failure.
But this guy? He insists I learn the sword, no matter what.
How much dumber can you get?
Jayvolg had passion, sure.
But as a teacher?
He was absolutely useless.
Ignoring his rant, I turned and headed deeper into Mount Laktea.
As always, I went to the most secluded part of the mountain—a spot I had scouted in advance.
There, I didn’t have to worry about being seen or interrupted.
This was the perfect place to settle things with Jayvolg.
I didn’t stop walking until I reached the waterfall.
There, at last, I turned and spoke to him quietly.
“I’ll be staying here for about half the day. If you get bored, feel free to leave.”
“I don’t get bored. Once you’ve rested enough, we can resume our evening sword training.”
Jayvolg leaned against a tree, staring at me like a statue.
Unbelievable.
You’d be hard-pressed to find someone more persistent than him.
And to be fair, Jayvolg was a man of integrity.
Even among the knights of the main house—most of whom treated me with respect—there were always a few who looked at me with thinly veiled contempt.
I was the black sheep of House Pador.
The jagged stone in an otherwise polished wall.
I didn’t blame them.
In a martial society, strength speaks louder than blood.
Respect is earned through power.
But Jayvolg wasn’t like that.
If anything, he was devoted—almost to a fault.
The problem was simply that his devotion was pointed in the wrong direction.
He wasn’t a bad person… but we were incompatible.
Living in the same world together just wasn’t going to work.
So the question was:
How do I open Jayvolg’s eyes?
The answer was simpler than it seemed.
I just had to train in front of him.
Not with a sword, but with a weapon he utterly disregarded.
Fwoooosh—
My hand sliced through the air.
There was no visible green glow yet, but I could feel the energy crackling across my fingertips.
That alone was enough for me.
I doubt anyone in the history of the martial world has ever reached this level of mastery so quickly.
From there, I swiftly began executing techniques from the Tang Clan’s martial arts.
But these weren’t just copied forms.
They were hybrid techniques, refined with my own understanding, reshaped to fit this body like a custom-made suit.
I spun through the forms, flowing seamlessly through the Tang-style stances like a waterwheel turning in a stream.
Then—
Shhhhik!
A needle shot through the air like lightning and embedded itself into a tree.
“Hmph…”
Ten needles, perfectly arranged in a circular pattern, pierced into the bark like the petals of a flower.
That formation said it all.
Sibji Tudo — Ten-Finger Flying Needle.
A technique where all ten fingers release concealed weapons at once and hit their marks.
In the Tang Clan, this was the true entry point.
Only after mastering this was one acknowledged as having “entered the gate.”
And even then, it usually took a full year of dedicated practice for most born into the clan’s bloodline to achieve it.
Me?
I’d done it in a week.
If the Tang Clan’s patriarch had seen a late-stage outer disciple reach this level in just a few days…
He might’ve dropped to his knees and tried to marry me into the family on the spot.
Still, I wasn’t fully satisfied.
Half the needles hadn’t penetrated deep enough—they should’ve gone all the way through the tree, but instead they only embedded halfway.
Too weak… Far too weak.
But for now, it was enough to catch Jayvolg’s attention.
The man who never showed a flicker of emotion…
His eyes were now wide with shock.
“Young Master? What… what was that just now?”
“This?”
I casually flicked my wrist again and sent another round of needles into the same tree.
A second flower bloomed on the bark.
Perfectly spaced, radiating outward in precise symmetry.
It was my own, secret technique:
Amryeong Bidosul — Shadow Spirit Flying Blade Art.
Jayvolg’s jaw dropped open.
“Why… why would you know something like that? A Young Master from a knightly house using assassination techniques fit for hired killers—!”
Just as I expected.
Rigid, old-fashioned Jayvolg.
That’s exactly why you’re not cut out for this.
I shrugged and replied casually.
“So what? Doesn’t matter how you win, as long as you’re strong, right?”
Jayvolg hesitated for a moment, then gave me his usual stiff response.
“…I’ll admit you have a point, but still, I believe it’s best if you take up the sword. You’re of House Pador, after all.”
I barely held in a laugh.
What, the blood of House Pador forbids concealed weapons now?
What a shallow way of thinking.
People will do anything to survive.
There are countless stories in the martial world:
A Wudang master was stabbed through the privy by a hidden assassin…
A monk from Shaolin breaking his vows to become a demon cultivator for revenge…
These tales are practically legend.
But using throwing weapons is dishonorable?
The same people who spout that nonsense will resort to every dirty trick imaginable the moment their life’s on the line.
When survival and victory are at stake, people will do anything.
Jayvolg, though? Still trapped in his box... He took the bait beautifully.
In truth, Jayvolg was lucky to have met someone like me.
With an attitude like that, if he kept training blindly, he’d eventually hit a wall.
And in fact… in my first life, that’s exactly what happened.
Jayvolg remained talented, sure.
But after graduating top of his class from the Knight Academy, he never quite lived up to the potential he once showed.
Back then, he blamed it on the time he spent mentoring me, convinced it had delayed his own growth.
But now I could see the truth.
It was all his fault.
“I think people should train in a way that suits them. And for me, this is what fits.”
Jayvolg looked at me seriously, then nodded.
“I understand now why you’ve turned your attention away from the sword, Young Master. You do have talent—no doubt about it. With ability like that, it makes sense. But still—!”
His face twisted like a man smearing mud over his own ideals.
“If you wielded a sword with that same talent…! You wouldn’t just be a knight—you’d be the knight. If you truly intend to walk the martial path… then choose a proper weapon! If not, you’ll hit a wall eventually.”
Thank you.
I needed you to say that out loud.
For someone older than me, your thinking is even more narrow.
I smiled and threw out the bait.
“Is that so? Then how about a little wager?”
“A… wager, sir?”
“If you’re so sure, then show me what makes the sword so great. Who knows? Maybe I’ll drop all this ‘nonsense’ after seeing it in action.”
Jayvolg paused, deliberating for a moment.
But then, with a heavy sigh, he gave in.
“Fine. If that’s what it takes to change your mind, I’ll oblige.”
“Great. So what are we wagering?”
“Anything. It doesn’t matter to me.”
Confident, aren’t we?
And of course, it made sense. He was raised on the elite knight track.
Top graduate of the Knight Academy.
That alone was a guaranteed ticket to a bright future.
In the martial world, I’d met plenty of late-stage disciples just like him:
The Phoenix of some righteous sect…
The Dragon of some demonic clan…
The Sword Fiend of some dark cult…
They always thought the world revolved around them—Arrogantly ruling their tiny ponds.
And I?
I specialized in breaking people like that.
I pointed at his sword.
“Then how about this: You use your sword, and I’ll use something else. We fight until one of us admits defeat. Simple enough, right?”
Twitch.
A vein bulged at Jayvolg’s temple.
Knights are creatures of pride.
And there are only a few young knights who can ignore a challenge, especially when it comes from a brash little noble with a sharp tongue.
To him, I was probably a spoiled brat mocking the honor of knighthood.
Which was exactly the point.
Go on. Lose your temper, Jayvolg.
You’re a knight, aren’t you?
But… maybe it was because I was technically his student.
Or maybe because I was a son of House Pador.
Either way…
He held back. One more time.
“Young Master… A knight and a noble fighting each other? That’s improper.”
“Oh? So you’re scared? That’s… disappointing. I expected more from the best of the Knight Academy.”
The smirk in my voice was impossible to miss.
Sure, he could ignore it.
But after all the times I’d jabbed at him lately…
It was like smoke was rising from Jayvolg’s body.
There was no way he could hold back now.
And sure enough, Jayvolg clenched his fists and answered with gritted teeth.
“Very well. If you insist, I’ll show you. Let’s call it… a form of instruction.”
He glanced around, likely reconsidering the idea of fighting with real blades.
“But… using live steel might seriously injure you, so I’ll...”
His eyes swept the area, landing on a thick, broken branch.
He picked it up, tested its flexibility with a few quick motions, then nodded to himself.
“This should work.”
A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth.
“You sure about that? Looks like it’ll snap in half.”
“Knights are strong, Young Master.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that...”
“Then let’s make this wager more interesting.”
“Go on, I’m listening. Name your terms.”
Jayvolg, still holding the branch like a wooden training sword, gave a soft snort before speaking.
“If I win… you’ll stop complaining and attend every lesson without protest. That’s all I want from this wager.”
“Of course. I swear on House Pador’s honor.”
“And what do you want if you win?”
Ah, now we’re getting to the fun part.
If we were going to make this a proper wager, I needed to lay out all my conditions.
After all, Jayvolg had already been assigned as my swordsmanship instructor—I couldn’t exactly dismiss him without causing a stir.
And frankly, I didn’t want a replacement.
Not only would they just send another boring instructor, but in my past life, Jayvolg had treated me with sincere dedication.
I owed him something.
So rather than drive him away…
Why not make him mine?
Sure, the method might be a bit extreme.
I raised one finger and began listing my terms.
“First—if I win, I want you to drop this whole sword-supremacy nonsense.”
“Tch… Fine. I’ll accept that.”
“Second—I want full control of all swordsmanship class time. No interference.”
“That’s… quite bold.”
“Come on. It’s not like the family will notice as long as we don’t make a fuss, right?”
“Fair enough. I accept. And?”
I raised a third finger.
“If I win… Jayvolg, I want you to take the knight’s oath. To me.”
“……”
Jayvolg’s expression tightened—brows furrowing, pride wincing.
The Knight’s Oath.
A solemn vow made by knights, swearing fealty to the one they would serve for the rest of their lives.
A knight who took the oath would follow their liege until death.
It was more than duty—it was a sacred bond.
And here I was, asking Jayvolg—a promising knight with a bright future ahead of him—to swear eternal loyalty to a youngest child with no future.
Anyone would be furious.
Honestly, if he didn’t get mad, I’d think he was a monk.
Jayvolg remained silent, the crease between his brows deepening.
And then…
“…Young Master. Even if you are of House Pador, please do not trample on a knight’s honor.”
“Oh? So you’re scared? If you’re afraid… I suppose there’s nothing to be done.”
I puckered my lips and whistled mockingly.
That was it.
The last thread of Jayvolg’s composure snapped.
His eyes glinted—sharp and cold.
Who could endure such blatant disrespect?
In the world of knights, honor is a sacred, unspoken rule—even nobles are expected to treat it with care.
Up until now, he’d endured it out of respect for my bloodline.
But he’d reached his limit.
The veins bulged on the back of his hand as he tightened his grip on the wooden branch.
“It seems the Young Master is in need of a little discipline.”
Perfect. Hook, line, and sinker.
“Then shall we begin?”
I bounced lightly on my feet, putting a little distance between us.
Rhythmic. Measured.
It was the setup for Amyeongbo—Shadow Steps, the signature footwork of the Tang clan’s Sichuan branch.
Jayvolg frowned as if unimpressed.
“Young Master, standing like that won’t let you generate proper force in your strikes.”
“Really? I find it comfortable.”
“Sigh…”
Clearly, I was getting under his skin.
To him, my stance must’ve looked unorthodox. Unrefined. Maybe even blasphemous.
“Young Master, consider this part of your education. Let me first demonstrate the proper form when holding a sword. Your spine must stay straight, left foot slightly forward, the opposite leg set diagonally back to serve as a firm anchor—”
He launched into a textbook explanation, completely ignoring the fact that this was supposed to be a duel, not a lecture.
I stuck a finger in my ear and yawned—deliberately provoking him.
So noisy.
From this point on, I wouldn’t be Deyan, the noble heir.
I’d be the Shadow Lord once more, giving a lesson of my own.
“Jayvolg, we’re dueling, not holding class. Or did you forget?”
Jayvolg let out a deep sigh and raised the wooden branch in his hand.
The sudden drop in formality—my switch to casual speech—seemed to further irritate him. His face stiffened with restrained emotion.
“Young Master, a knight must value character above all. But… since you seem unaware of that, I’ll teach you myself.”
“That’s more like it.”
Now listen closely.
Jayvolg—what you’re about to receive is a lesson worth a thousand gold.
I’ll enlighten you and break down that rotten, rigid view you call martial discipline.
---The End Of The Chapter---
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