Chapter 19: Bear School Swordsmanship
Early the next morning, Elder Allen, lying on the straw bed, groggily opened his eyes. His bleary old eyes scanned the empty room as usual.
But when his gaze passed over the empty straw bed next to the door, which was supposed to be occupied, his eyes suddenly widened in alarm. He sprang to his feet, ignoring the complaints of his elderly wife, hastily throwing on a coat as he rushed toward the wooden door.
"Where is he? Where's the witcher? Did he run away?!" Elder Allen's expression was frantic; it wasn't an impossible scenario. After all, if someone dropped a losing proposition on him, he'd be tempted to take off as well.
"No! He can't leave! I need to…" The fishing grounds needed to be expanded, and they were relying on this. How could he leave at such a crucial time?!
Muttering to himself, Elder Allen pulled open the door to his home. But as he swung the door wide, the village elder, the most knowledgeable man in the community, stood frozen in shock at the threshold.
The thick clouds still loomed over Velen, and a light drizzle continued to fall. There stood Lan, holding the Bear School steel sword he had taken from Bordon, standing resolutely in the rain. The gleaming blade was angled forward, held at his side, and the young witcher's gaze was completely focused.
Even though Elder Allen had only seen tax collectors and their soldiers serving the lord, he had never encountered a renowned swordsman. Yet at this moment, he found himself swallowing hard, feeling a sense of awe—
"It's too steady." The sword was held with such stability. Even someone like him, who had only wielded a fish spear or a fishing net, could easily sense it. The young man's grip on the sword was unnaturally steady.
People subconsciously have a concept of how far they can push their bodies. In Lan's previous world, even if someone encountered a skill they had never heard of in their life, as long as the master demonstrated their level, viewers would be unable to contain their admiration.
They might not know how much effort was required to achieve such skill. Yet instinctively, they could feel, "I could never do that; the gap is too great." Thus, feelings of admiration and awe would arise from within. Elder Allen felt that sensation now.
In Lan's hands, the straight and gleaming sword was like the surface of a windless lake. If it weren't for the rain, it would be less impressive; now, in the rain, the unyielding stability was even more pronounced. Raindrops struck the blade like stones hitting the ground.
In the midst of Elder Allen's stupor, a deep breath resonated from Lan's chest. Then the longsword and his body began to move. It was a unique sword technique, with his weight shifting back and forth between his left and right feet, but often resting on just one foot at a time, switching through rotations and lateral leaps.
Even an outsider could tell that this style emphasized agility far more than traditional knightly swordsmanship. After all, the monsters that witchers faced often possessed strength comparable to that of fully armored heavy cavalry. No one could endure a direct charge; only agility could save them.
The frequent shifts in weight might reduce the fluidity of force and attack power, but the rotational movements in the sword technique compensated for that. Centrifugal force was a swordsman's best friend.
The sword, when "whipped" around, could draw a perfect arc; at such high angular velocity, if the tip of the sword was utilized to its maximum speed, it could even cleave through the body of someone in plate armor.
The Bear School's swordsmanship took this a step further based on their superior physical condition. When attacking, Bear School swordsmanship became more aggressive, utilizing both the rotation and the weight shift, sacrificing some of the rotational force but delivering multiplied power against the enemy.
In Lan's previous hunts with Bordon, the insect-like creatures' exoskeletons had seemed to be "shattered" by the blade rather than "cut."
This advanced technique of controlling one's center of gravity was precisely what Lan sought to fully analyze and master with Mentos's assistance.
"Sir, according to our training plan, your basic swordsmanship has reached proficiency. However, from my analysis, it seems that the Bear School's advanced techniques do not prioritize the stability of swordplay."
"You mean that my excessive proficiency in the basics is hindering my progress in learning the Bear School's unique swordsmanship?"
"No, I believe that the basics are always of utmost importance. Perhaps my analysis and training plan are still imperfect."
"Understood." Lan silently noted in his mind.
He didn't let Mentos's feedback disturb his thoughts; this analysis stemmed solely from what he had observed in Bordon's past battles. But ultimately, for the AI, the occurrence of "inconsistencies" indicated a lack of computational power. It still boiled down to needing an upgrade in permissions.
"Let's continue analyzing the existing data and refining the training plan." Lan slowly lowered the sword and returned it to its sheath.
"I still lack much knowledge, and swordsmanship isn't urgent. Someone is coming." With that, the conversation with the AI temporarily came to a close.
Elder Allen cautiously approached after Lan finished his spinning sword dance. It was as if he were the outsider in this village. Lan could tell what the elder had been thinking moments ago.
"Don't worry, I won't leave. You still have one victim's family here, and the school's compensation will not stop."
He spoke in a lighthearted tone, mirroring how he had spoken the night before. But Elder Allen didn't feel the same inexplicable chill that he had felt during their earlier conversations on the subject.
In reality, the young man had come to terms with this. It was a world where death could happen at any moment without surprise. His morals and worldview indeed felt, as Bordon had said, completely out of place in this world. That bear-like man had told the apprentice he was about to kill, "You are already in hell."
And on that same day, Lan had heard of a human tragedy firsthand and felt a powerful sense of helplessness, along with the pain that accompanied it. That feeling truly made him want to be sick!
But ultimately, this also revealed a truth he had long understood—without power, there is no choice. It wasn't just about needing the "power to survive." It was about the "power to live and maintain one's will."
There were already enough worthless people who complained about their fate. The "seed of power" lay within his grasp, and the "guidance of power" operated within his mind; Lan was not prepared to halt his progress here.
"Let's go. It's time to get to work." The young man stretched his neck and wrists, speaking matter-of-factly.
The hastily patched cotton armor he wore had replaced his tattered blue cotton armor. The long robe, reaching his calves, had patches of leather armor that still bore traces of blood on the shoulders and chest. Clothed as he was, Lan appeared imposing and ready to face the monsters and challenges of the day.
Elder Allen watched the now-focused witcher, scratching his chin as he tentatively suggested, "How about… we eat something first?"
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