The morning sun cast long shadows over the dirt training ground.
Yu Jin and Yue Jin stood across from one another, eyes locked.
Neither spoke.
Yue Jin, ever the direct one, shifted first. He gripped the practice sword in both hands and rushed forward without warning. There was no finesse in it—just brute intent. He knew better than to give a spearman room to work. Distance was death.
The first spear thrust came sharp and fast. Yue Jin knocked it aside with the flat of his blade and kept moving.
The second came. He deflected again.
Third.
Fourth.
Still, the gap didn't close.
His eyes narrowed. "Why can't I get in...?"
Yu Jin's stance remained grounded, yet fluid. Each thrust wasn't just a block—it was a brake. A wedge slowing the charge. Worse, each strike came harder than the last. Tighter. Sharper. As if the very air was turning against Yue Jin's advance.
He pushed harder. Met the spear dead-on with strength. Wood cracked under the pressure.
But Yu Jin held.
Held—and returned.
Every movement was more refined. Less effort, more outcome. His feet moved in small, precise shifts. His spear traced angles that boxed Yue Jin in without touching him.
Yue Jin gritted his teeth. He threw all his strength forward, finally catching the shaft mid-strike and pushing hard. A breath of space opened.
He lunged.
Blade came down.
Yu Jin didn't flinch.
The trap snapped.
With a turn of the wrist and a hard sweep from the butt of his spear, Yu Jin caught the sword mid-swing. The blade spun out of Yue Jin's hands. Before he could recover, Yu Jin stepped in, twisted, and swept his leg clean out from under him.
Yue Jin slammed to the ground.
Cold wood pressed against his throat.
The tip of the spear.
A pop echoed in Yu Jin's vision.
[Strength increased: 47 → 48]
He blinked. Shocked. One duel, and his body responded.
He pulled the spear back and offered a hand.
Yue Jin scowled, but took it.
"Would've had you," he muttered, brushing himself off, "if not for the damn shoulder."
Yu Jin raised an eyebrow. "An enemy won't stop to kiss your boo-boos."
Yue Jin scoffed.
Yu Jin opened his skill tab.
[Spearmanship Mastery: 32.7%]
He stared.
Twelve percent in three days.
Twenty percent in one spar.
Technique honed through sweat. Sharpened by pressure. Refined in fire.
And rising.
Yu Jin lowered his spear, breath steady. Across from him, Yue Jin was already back on his feet.
There was a fire in his eyes now. Still sore, still pride-bruised, but something had clicked. He grumbled to himself, dragging his feet over to one of the wooden racks where the training scrolls were stored. Without a word, he began working through the sword forms from the manual—sloppy at first, but persistent. His brows were furrowed in concentration, lips moving with each step and motion.
Yu Jin watched, then allowed himself a rare smile.
"Well, at least he's motivated now."
Then his voice turned sharp.
"Back foot straight! That swing was garbage! Again!"
He barked orders like a drillmaster, no longer friend or mentor—just the one raising a warband.
---
The next day arrived with heavy morning heat and heavier expectations.
Yu Jin was already soaked in sweat by sunrise, his training complete, his breathing calm and deep. When Yue Jin and the four new recruits arrived, they found him waiting—stone still, spear in hand.
Only Yue Jin looked remotely like he belonged.
The others stood in a crooked line, yawning, hunched, one scratching his ribs.
Yu Jin didn't say a word at first.
Then he moved.
The wooden spear struck the first man across the shin.
"Straighten up."
Another got a jab in the gut.
"If you blink while I'm talking, I hit you again."
The third tried to speak. Yu Jin struck him across the shoulder.
"No questions. Only corrections."
And so it began.
Form after form. Step after step. Whenever a man got it wrong, Yu Jin was there—with wood, with words, with no patience.
Defiance? Met with a strike.
Laziness? Met with a louder one.
It was hours before he said a word of approval.
He wasn't building soldiers yet. Not really.
But fear? Fear was fast.
And fear would keep them standing until respect had time to grow.
As the sun climbed higher, Yu Jin continued hammering discipline into the four recruits. Every misstep was corrected. Every movement watched. Yue Jin, meanwhile, had taken to a spot off to the side, running through his own daily drills. He practiced the sword manual with sharp determination, sweat running down his brow as he repeated each form with increasing accuracy.
By midday, the recruits were near collapse. These weren't soft boys—they had fought in back alleys, brawled in taverns, robbed and survived.
But this?
This was a different kind of pain.
Their muscles burned. Their fingers cramped. Their lungs felt like they were breathing smoke. Yu Jin's drills didn't just work the body—they demanded the mind to follow.
At last, Yu Jin raised a hand.
"Rest."
The four dropped like stones.
Yu Jin turned toward Yue Jin. "Again."
Yue Jin didn't hesitate. He grabbed his practice sword, rolled his shoulder once, and took position.
The thugs, despite their fatigue, turned their heads. Curiosity sparked in their bruised faces. They'd fought Yue Jin themselves. Felt the power in his fists. The anger in his strikes.
And now, they watched as Yu Jin faced him again.
The two clashed.
Just like before, Yu Jin controlled the field. His spear danced with precision. Every strike bled momentum from Yue Jin's charge. His distance never broke. His guard never faltered.
It wasn't luck. It wasn't strength.
It was control.
And it was beautiful.
The recruits stared, jaws slack. None of them had seen fighting like this—not in the streets, not in the pits. This wasn't just about hitting harder. It was movement with purpose.
Yue Jin finally fell again, this time less from a sweep than from exhaustion and subtle redirection. He hit the ground with a grunt.
Yu Jin pointed the spear at his chest, then lowered it and offered a hand.
"Slightly better," he said. "Still not good enough."
Yue Jin groaned. "I'm trying, damn it."
"Try harder."
Without another word, Yue Jin trudged back to his solo training, muttering curses under his breath.
Yu Jin turned back to the four sprawled recruits, eyes glinting with fire.
"Rest is over."
His voice cracked like a whip.
"Get up."
And for the first time... the four were in perfect unison as they cried for help.