Episode 4

I would lose if I fought.

I would get caught if I ran away.

Thus, all I could do was talk my way out of it.

Even though I kept talking, I was constantly improving and revising the plan in my mind.

The fragmented information I had about Kayan—gathered from rumors, personal observations, and the values I could infer from both—was something I mentally reviewed and combined repeatedly.

At least one thing was certain. Kayan is a thoroughly principled man.

He wasn’t easily swayed by sentiment. If his superiors gave him an order, he would strike with his dagger, regardless of the opponent.

If so, this was something I needed to explore further. Since he had pledged loyalty to the Badnikers, I would exploit the doubts that arose to follow his superiors’ orders.

Of course, the crucial part of my plan started from this point onward.

“The creation of swordsmanship,” I claimed.

Kayan eyed me coldly. “You are talking nonsense.”

His abilities, once shrouded in mystery, were now becoming clearer.

I concluded that, even putting aside the miscellaneous adjectives and modifiers, he was a monstrous old man.

It was only natural. After all, one couldn’t attain or hold the position of a collector without being strong.

Half-cripples like me aren’t the only ones from whom they collect debts, I mused.

Collectors also needed to collect debts from powerful figures—those who had mastered the Badnikers’ hereditary secret techniques and those from other families seeking these same techniques—and mercenaries willing to take on the most unsavory tasks for the right price.

There were no exceptions.

Kayan ranked among the top three in that talented group, making him a monster among monsters.

I asked, “What do you mean by nonsense? Anyone from the Badniker lineage is bound to have created one or two unique martial art techniques.”

The Badniker family was unique in many ways, even within the empire, but their custom was especially difficult to understand. Anyone bearing the Badniker surname—no matter who it was—had to develop their own martial art technique before reaching adulthood.

There was no exception to this rule. If they failed to invent a martial art technique, they would lose all the rights associated with being a Badniker.

“Although I still have some time before reaching adulthood, my second brother also created a martial art technique around this time. It isn’t unusual,” I added.

Kayan’s gaze darkened at the mention of the Iron-Blooded Lord’s second son.

“Young Master Luan,” he started.

“Yes.”

“How old are you now?”

Why would he ask that all of a sudden?

I replied in a puzzled manner, “I am fifteen years old.”

“Young Master Hector had already created seven sword techniques by that age,” Kayan stated.

A brief silence ensued.

He asked only to make me feel ashamed.

Kayan continued, “Since childhood, he displayed an unrivaled talent for martial arts. He could memorize the movements after seeing them once, flawlessly replicating them the next day. At just eleven years old, he even proposed improvements to the family’s swordsmanship, some of which were actually implemented.”

Among the Iron-Blooded Lord’s children, three particularly stood out, and Hector was naturally one of them. In other words, he was so successful that comparing him to my current self was shameful.

“I have been with the Badniker family for many years and have seen many people. That time wasn’t in vain. It helped me develop a keen, discerning eye.”

I asked, “What are you trying to say?”

“Young Master Luan, do you consider yourself on the same level as Young Master Hector?” he asked back.

I couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing. “How is that possible?”

“If that is the case—”

“That guy is beneath me,” I interrupted him.

It was beyond ridiculous.

I had to admit that Hector was impressive.

He wasn’t the only one, though—each of the Iron-Blooded Lord’s children was extraordinary.

Heero, the eldest son; Hector, the second son; and Nero, the second daughter, stood out among them all.

In the past, I had admired them with awe. Even after I became a rascal, I still paid attention to rumors about them. However, when my inferiority complex took hold, I deliberately distanced myself from them.

But what about now?

I have seen real geniuses.

How many times did I almost break down while watching my seniors on Spirit Mountain?

For the first time, I realized there were people in the world who couldn’t be classified as geniuses or described as monsters.

Kayan, who had been staring at me in shock, sighed deeply. “You will have to own up to what you said.”

“What?”

“Get up,” he commanded me.

His expression was serious. It felt like if I said, “I can’t stand,” then he would say, “Really?” and cut my tendons without hesitation. Therefore, I got out of bed without arguing.

A groan escaped as I stood on my feet.

I realized that my body was in even worse shape than I had anticipated. It wasn’t just from the butler’s beating; it was more a result of my usual debauchery.

“Do you have a sword?” Kayan asked.

I replied, “A sword? Yes, there should be one.”

“Then, please raise your sword.”

Naturally, I didn’t have a sword in the room, so I had a servant bring me one.

“Do you prefer a wooden sword or a real sword?” I asked.

“A real sword,” Kayan replied gravely.

“Gasp.”

The servant’s shoulders slumped at those words. He rushed out and soon returned with a sword.

I couldn’t help thinking as I took the sword from the servant, He isn’t even asking what it is for.

Although, in principle, the family members had no right to prevent the collector from carrying out an execution.

Kayan ordered, “Draw your sword. Swing it.”

“What?”

“All you need to do is make three downward slashes,” he replied.

I was getting annoyed, but I thought that this would be the last request.

With my sword still in its scabbard, I slashed through the air three times—no more.

Kayan silently observed the process before asking, “What do you think is the most important aspect of martial arts?”

This was a pretty interesting question. The answer wasn’t clear-cut, but you could get a glimpse into the other person’s values regarding martial arts through their response.

I can say what I really think, but—

Somehow, I knew there wouldn’t be a 100-point answer.

What answer would Kayan—the Iron-Blooded Collector, a man who had demonstrated his loyalty and worth to the family over decades of active service—value most?

“The ability to apply it in real situations,” I answered.

Kayan remained silent.

“No matter how good a martial art technique is, it is meaningless if you can’t apply it in actual combat,” I elaborated.

“Who did you learn that from?” he asked.

“It was a thought that dawned on me when I was reading a book and practicing on my own.”

I was a bit surprised by my answer. I had tried to lie to score points, but instead, what I said was a blend of my original thoughts and my prepared answer.

There was a brief silence.

Kayan looked at me intently, as though he were trying to grasp the deeper meaning behind my words.

Look at me all you want. Can you see my insides?

If I put my mind to it and feigned ignorance, I could make even my master feel uncertain. My master, however, would ultimately see through me and beat me mercilessly.

“If that’s what you think, let’s have a quick chat,” Kayan said.

The dagger, which had disappeared for a while, reappeared.

Kayan traced the dagger’s blade with his gloved fingers and said, “As you mentioned, the most important aspect of martial arts is practicality. Sword techniques that can’t be applied in combat are worth less than a sword made of straw.”

“So you want to test it yourself? To determine the practicality of my swordsmanship?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, that is the case,” he replied.

I was certain I would lose if I fought him directly, so I kept talking. That would work until he had the slightest inclination that I was wasting his time.

“Of course, it isn’t a normal form of sparring,” Kayan said. “It takes into account your level and condition, Young Master Luan.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I won’t move faster than the speed of the swing you just made with your sword,” Kayan explained.

So, he had given me orders to measure my movements.

As he had said, it was to ensure the minimum level of fairness.

Silence followed.

I looked at Kayan.

I didn’t reveal all my thoughts, but it occurred to me that it was the same for Kayan.

I still had many questions about him, but one thing was clear: he would enforce the collection if I didn’t accept this proposal.

As such, I nodded. “Okay.”

The problem was that I had no choice from the beginning.

Of course, I knew the reason. This was a simple principle, a fundamental truth of the world.

Between us, Kayan was the strong one, and I was weak. Unfortunately, in this world, the weak didn’t always have a choice.

Thus, I wanted to praise myself now. No matter the process, I achieved my desired outcome against a strong opponent.

***

What I said about the creation of a martial art technique must’ve stimulated Kayan’s heart.

Evidently, he had invested a considerable amount of time in training. The reason he didn’t show it was that, as mentioned, Kayan was a person who distinguished between public and private matters.

I unsheathed the sword and examined it as if appraising it. The blade was somewhat dull, but it was a genuine weapon—one capable of killing in the hands of someone with enough skill. I could tell by its weight the moment I picked it up. Still, I only felt relieved when I examined it.

“Let me know when you are ready,” Kayan said.

He remained a polite old man, both in his gestures and speech.

I threw the sheath onto the bed and held the sword with just my right hand.

It was heavy and felt awkward.

In my previous life, I never forgot the Badniker family’s martial arts, even after the tendons in my right arm were severed.

I didn’t even try to do so. As a disowned Badniker, their martial arts were the last link to my family.

During my time wandering the continent, the martial arts changed in their own way.

Should I say that this martial art had been adapted for one-armed people?

It was very crude because it wasn’t professionally refined. Instead, it had been modified for survival.

It couldn’t be considered a true creation.

In fact, insulting the family’s martial arts could lead to the tendons in all my limbs being severed.

However, the martial art I was about to show him wasn’t solely of my own making.

“What? What is that clumsy move?”

“Oh my. You have modified the traditional martial arts to fit your body.”

“It is acceptable, but discard it now. I’ve fixed your right arm. Take a look. Isn’t it moving normally?”

“There is a lot of unnecessary movement. Your breathing is being wasted, and there are gaps in your defenses everywhere.”

“How many times have I told you to maintain an appropriate distance from your opponent? Next, focus on shaping your linked movements.”

“The most important thing in a fight is distance control. If you can always gauge how many steps or breaths it will take to reach your opponent, you won’t die from a single blow, even against a strong enemy.”

This martial art was developed based on my master’s guidance.

I suddenly became curious. How would the Iron-Blooded Collector judge the martial art that was about to be demonstrated?

“Let’s start,” I muttered briefly.

Then the lights around me seemed to dim slightly.

It didn’t feel like an illusion.

The air grew heavier, and the lights flickered ominously.

Then Kayan started to move.

It was a slow motion, yet the distance between us rapidly closed.

Is it due to that strange footwork?

Though the movements were slow, the actual speed was startling.

Wasn’t it a perfect technique to kill an opponent in one breath?

It seems like a useful skill.

Of course, this wasn’t the time for admiration. I kept my focus on Kayan’s movements.

The moment the gap between us became around two and a half steps, I made the first move.

Kayan tilted his head slightly, dodging my simple stab easily.

Avoiding an attack with minimal movement was a skill that required the ability to predict the opponent’s attack with precision.

My ambitious first move missed, but I remained undeterred and pressed on with my onslaught, stabbing, slashing, and even swinging my sword like a club.

Kayan steadily closed the distance, evading all of my attacks.

Then, a strange scene unfolded.

Though I was the one attacking and Kayan was merely dodging, I was the one retreating.

At one point, I was backed up against the wall. Meanwhile, Kayan didn’t even look disheveled.

The short distance made it hard to swing the sword any longer.

Kayan stood in front of me, pressing me in. He was a head taller, exuding a pressure that was hard to ignore.

“Pant… Pant…”

This damn body.

Sweat poured down my whole body after only a few swings.

I looked up at the old collector, half exhausted.

“I was looking forward to it a little bit.” His voice carried a lot of emotion, as though Kayan was revealing it intentionally.

He had no intention of hiding the deep disappointment beneath his dry voice and emotionless eyes.

I remained silent.

“But in the end, it was all a sham,” Kayan concluded.

I gritted my teeth and swung my sword.

There was a high possibility of getting hurt if I wielded the sword at such a close range, but I didn’t care.

However, my wrist was grabbed.

The old man’s hands were as big as his body. He could wrap them around my skinny wrist and still look relaxed.

He squeezed hard.

“Keuk!”

His strong grip made my wrist numb, forcing me to release the sword. A clanging sound echoed, and the blunt blade swung around in vain.

A punch followed.

The dagger wasn’t visible, so I dodged the incoming fist by slightly twisting my shoulder, confident my left arm could respond fast enough.

Then Kayan opened his outstretched fist and grabbed my shoulder.

Crunch!

My shoulder blade screamed in agony.

Old man, your hand hurts.

Was he trying to dislocate my shoulder?

Kayan spoke up. “I’ve seen the swordsmanship you created. If you haven’t named it yet, I would like to suggest one.”

I didn’t respond.

“What about Straw Swordsmanship?”

Was it because he had a high sense of pride in martial arts? I detected an unusual hint of mockery in the expressionless old man’s demeanor.

Kayan took out his watch again and sighed. “You wasted my time for no reason. It is late, but I will enforce the collection now. Please stay still.”

I burst out laughing the moment Kayan took on the role of a collector again.

“Straw Swordsmanship. It is an interesting name. By the way, Sir Kayan, when did I say that I created a sword technique?” I asked.

“Are you going to talk about meaningless things again?” he asked back.

“I’m just trying to dispel a misconception. What I created was a fist technique.”

Bam!

Kayan’s chin jerked upward.

The difference in physique and the extremely close distance inevitably created a blind spot in his field of vision.

This wasn’t sufficient, so I devised a strategy.

It was the most necessary element for the weak to beat the strong. As such, I induced the opponent to lower his guard.

The moment Kayan’s head shot upward, he didn’t panic and reflexively waved his hand.

It was clear that he would regain control of the situation in one second at most.

Seizing the opportunity, I continued my attacks and alternated between striking the center of his chest, solar plexus, and abdomen.

Due to the flurry of attacks that flowed naturally, Kayan took a step back.

Nevertheless, the hand gripping my shoulder retained its strength.

It wasn’t bad.

I jabbed my finger into the crook of Kayan’s arm. As expected, the areas of the body where muscle couldn’t develop were soft.

Bam!

My finger sunk in.

Kayan let out a short snort, and the strength in his grip disappeared.

The rest was simple. I pushed the still-disoriented Kayan on the chest, knocking him down. Then, I snatched the sword from the ground and pointed its tip at Kayan’s throat.

There was absolute silence.

The Iron-Blooded Collector was staring at me with wide, dazed eyes.

I said, “Sir, you have a very poor naming sense.”

“What—”

“This martial art already has a name,” I interrupted him.

“It’s called White Sun Eclipse,” I said calmly.

It was the name the martial art I had created with my master, Bai Luguang, the First Under Heaven.

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