During the admission test, Qin Chuan had chopped off the arm of a new student, but it healed over completely. The academy's healing system was excellent, but it did not erase the pain the injury caused.
The boy who fell to the ground wailed and curled into a ball. A cream-colored beam of light enveloped him and immediately healed the wounds on his face. After ten or so seconds, the boy had fully recovered; all wounds on his face had completely disappeared.
"Hey bro, how many redemption points did that deduct?" The person beside nudged him and asked softly.
"Fifty!" The boy gritted his teeth and did not dare to speak further despite his anger.
There were loud gasps in response. Save for a few who managed to achieve Grades S, A, or B in the admissions test, none of the others had any redemption points. Therefore, using the treatment system just once was enough to necessitate memory erasure and force them to be sent back.
In Dawn Academy, credits were proof of performance and strength, while redemption points were universal currency. Regardless of whether a person was rich or poor on Earth, everyone's starting point at the academy was the same.
"I killed twenty-three orcs in the New World yesterday; any one of them would have had no problem dealing with all of you! To put it bluntly, I've always loathed teaching new students; you're all weak and incompetent. Teaching swordsmanship to you lot makes me feel like I'm playing with a bunch of infants!"
The woman had a sullen expression as she scanned the trembling students. All of a sudden, she licked her scarlet lips and smiled playfully, "But I was told that this batch of freshmen was very special. So special, in fact, that the dean even attended your opening ceremony in person. For that reason, I applied to be your swordsmanship tutor, so I hope you guys will at least be a little entertaining. Otherwise… Hehe…
"Well, I'll spare you the nonsense. I don't want to talk too much about theory. The gist of swordsmanship is to kill people. Bladework that can't even do that is nothing but a joke!"
The woman walked to a corner of the hall, where rows of wooden swords of various sizes--specifically used for training--were arranged. Then, under everyone's watch, the woman waved her right hand in the air and conjured a huge, silver broadsword from the void. With purple lightning swirling around the blade, the woman held the hilt in a backhand grip and swung it toward the training swords.
The purple lightning burst and instantly turned all the wooden swords into powder.
"This useless garbage isn't necessary in my class! We'll be using real swords for all future training!"
Immediately, uproar!
"Is there a problem?" the woman asked coldly.
"Yes. I don't have a sword yet. The weapon I was assigned during the admissions test was a saber," a guy said, trembling.
"Do you want me to hire you a babysitter so you'll always remember what kind of weapon to bring?" The woman approached the boy who spoke; her extremely charming face was inches away from him. She was still holding the hilt of her two-meter long sword. Its rapidly flickering electrical current was extremely terrifying.
The guy staggered and fell, bottom-first, to the ground. He wanted to cry, but the tears would not come. "I…I'm sorry. "
The woman shouted, "If you don't have a weapon, go to the Equipment Store and buy one! If you don't have redemption points, go and complete some missions. Do I still have to teach you how to do all that?"
She was a very hot-tempered woman, and after several bouts of reprimanding, no one else dared challenge her authority. She was no joke. Everyone believed that she would not hesitate to cut them in half with her sword, which was entirely capable of cleaving through iron like it was dirt.
The Basic Swordsmanship course then finally began.
"First of all, I need everyone to have a more intuitive understanding of your own strength attributes. That's right, the physical properties of a melee weapon and its attack power depends on your strength value. But those attributes aren't the be all and end all. The power that the central computer measures is the strength that you are capable of showing under the best possible conditions. I've seen too many idiots that can't even display even half their strength attributes!"
The woman continued, "In today's lesson, and in the upcoming lessons, your task is not to learn swordsmanship, but how to fully exert your strength value! If your strength value exceeds twenty, please take one step forward!"
The moment she belted out the command, Xiao Lin noticed that five among the seven acting class monitors—including Cheng Ming—took a step forward. Although Cheng Ming was the only one among the group that he had a favorable impression of, Xiao Lin had to admit that the talents of those people were far beyond the scope of ordinary individuals. Joining those acting monitors, only a dozen other ordinary students stepped forward.
The woman remained expressionless. She pointed at Cheng Ming and asked, "How much is your strength value?"
Cheng Ming, firmly but humbly, replied, "Thirty."
"Give it a try." The woman glanced at the longsword Cheng Ming was holding. The random weapon Cheng Ming was assigned in the admission test was not a sword, but he had gotten someone to exchange weapons the night before as preparation for the Swordsmanship course.
Cheng Ming scratched his head earnestly. "Teacher, um, Tutor. I'm no match for you."
The woman waved her right hand and her big, silver sword vanished. In place of it was a short and powerful stainless-steel dagger. She brandished the dagger with a force that whipped up gusts of wind, and raised her eyebrows before pointing at Cheng Ming. "I'll keep my strength to about thirty. Come on!"
Cheng Ming did not refuse. He wielded his longsword in both hands and rushed over with a low growl. Despite facing a head-on attack, the woman did not evade; instead, she raised the dagger to her chest. Light flashed suddenly in mid-air.
The two blades struck, keening with a metallic clash.
Everyone was stunned to see Cheng Ming's sword slip his grip and fall to the floor a few meters away. Cheng Ming stared at her, his hands a little numb. The woman had indeed lowered her power. Although Cheng Ming's ability was far above the hapless catcaller, it was still a resounding defeat.
"Twenty. That's the strength value your sword just displayed. Displaying 70 percent of your total strength is commendable," the woman impassively commented.
Cheng Ming was in disbelief. "What? I clearly used all my strength! My talent is a bonus too!"
"Having a talent isn't everything! You focused all your strength on the hilt and you released it too early. The first thing you should do is learn how to control the distribution of power when you swing your sword! Next!"
Another acting class monitor stepped forward. He initially looked down on Cheng Ming, but ended up worse off. Not only did the sword slip out of his hands, he was flipped over completely.
The woman mocked him. "You have a strength value of twenty-seven, but used only thirteen--not even half. You're holding a sword, not a torch! Idiot! Next!"
…
After about ten minutes, dozens of longswords and shortswords were strewn all over the floor. Aside from the acting monitors, other ordinary students reluctantly came up to try, but fared no better.
The woman reported the strength of each person's sword. The result was undoubtedly frustrating for everyone, and only a third of them could exert 60 percent of their strength. Cheng Ming's 70 percent achievement was already the highest possible value that they could attain.