As Elrian lay down for his nap, he couldn't help but feel mentally drained. Cultivation was a new and exhausting experience, but the possibilities it offered filled him with excitement. Closing his eyes, he sank into a light sleep, rejuvenating himself for the training that awaited him.
When Elrian woke up, he found the aroma of lunch wafting through the house. The food rejuvenated him even further, and as they ate, his parents began to explain more about the world beyond their village.
"Listen closely, Elrian," his father started. "Our village hunting zone is primarily populated with mortal creatures, but occasionally, first-stage monsters make an appearance. It's dangerous, but it's also the reason our village exists: we provide a barrier between the wild zones and the other villages."
His mother continued, "Within a million-kilometer radius of our village, there are about 10,000 other villages and one major town. In a typical village like ours, expect around 100 people and about five cultivators who have reached the first stage."
His father interjected, "Yes, and it's rare for anyone to go beyond that. It takes the combined effort of a thousand villages over the span of a century to produce even one second-stage cultivator."
"And the town?" Elrian inquired, his curiosity piqued.
"The town is a different beast altogether," his mother answered. "It has a population of around 100,000 people and is home to cultivators as powerful as the fourth stage. But remember, the further you go from the village, the more dangerous it becomes."
His father took a deep breath before continuing, "And that brings us to the wild zones. These are areas between each village or city's hunting area, where the laws of nature rule. There you can find creatures up to rank 5, monsters that could easily destroy entire villages."
The weight of his parents' words hung heavily in the air, cementing the scale and danger of the world around him. Elrian took a moment to absorb it all, suddenly feeling very small but also incredibly eager to explore this vast and perilous world.
After lunch, Elrian's mother guided him to a small, cleared space near their home. This was where the village often held practices and training sessions. Today, the sun was high in the sky, casting radiant light over the ground. Elrian held the thin-bladed longsword in his hands, its weight unfamiliar but intriguing. His mother picked up a similar weapon, and they both stood facing each other.
"Today," his mother began, locking eyes with him, "we will start with the very foundation of swordsmanship. Pay close attention, because these basics will accompany you throughout your journey as a martial artist."
Elrian nodded, gripping the sword lightly but not attempting any moves. This was a moment for observation and absorption.
"First things first, the grip," his mother continued, narrowing her eyes as if the act itself was a form of meditation. "The way you hold your sword is crucial. Hold it too tightly, and you risk fatigue. Hold it too loosely, and you sacrifice control."
She delicately gripped her sword's hilt, her knuckles neither white with pressure nor lax with ease. "A balanced grip gives you both control and flexibility. It's almost like holding a bird: too tight, and you'll crush it; too loose, and it'll fly away."
As she spoke, Elrian's eyes were locked onto her hand, watching how her fingers curled around the hilt. He committed the image to memory, knowing the importance of this foundational element.
"Once your grip is established, you need to understand stances," she went on, her voice steady and instructive. She transitioned smoothly into a high guard stance, her sword raised above her head. "The high guard is a stance that prepares you for a powerful downward strike. But it also leaves your lower body exposed, so it's a double-edged sword—no pun intended."
With fluid grace, she shifted into a middle guard. "The middle guard is a balanced stance. It allows for both offensive and defensive moves. Your sword is held at waist level, preparing you to strike or block as the situation demands."
Finally, she moved into a low guard, lowering the blade closer to the ground. "The low guard is generally defensive. From here, you can swiftly parry an incoming attack or exploit an opening in your opponent's defense."
Elrian could see how each stance had its pros and cons, its own unique rhythm and purpose. His mother was a living encyclopedia of martial wisdom, and he hung onto her every word.
"Footwork," she said, snapping him back to attention. "In combat, static fighters are dead fighters. Your feet are as important as your sword."
She began to demonstrate various steps—forward steps, backward steps, sidesteps—each with its own tactical utility. "Forward steps are for aggression, for closing the gap. Backward steps are for creating distance, whether for defense or to set up a counter-attack. Sidesteps are for evasion and flanking. Remember, a moving target is harder to hit."
She stopped and looked at him. "These elements—the grip, the stance, the footwork—are the ABCs of swordsmanship. But here's something even more crucial—balance. Without a strong core and a stable base, your swordplay will be shaky and inefficient. Balance empowers every swipe, every block, every dodge."
As she spoke, she moved with purposeful poise, showing off basic balancing exercises. "Keep your center of gravity low, and always be aware of your body's positioning. If you're off-balance, even a child could topple you."
Finally, she sheathed her sword and turned towards him. "Today, I've shown you the basics. Tomorrow, you'll pick up your sword and practice. But remember, Elrian, knowing the theory is one thing. Mastery is a whole different ballgame."
As the sun's warm hues began to dim, Elrian stood there, absorbing the avalanche of information he had just received. Although he hadn't performed any of the maneuvers himself yet, he felt as if a door had been opened for him, one leading to a path fraught with challenges, yet exhilaratingly promising. His mother's instruction had laid the first stones on his road to martial mastery, and as the day drew to a close, he felt not just exhaustion, but a pulsating excLitement for the journey ahead.