"Why do you fight like a swordsman?"
This was the second time Simon was asked such a question, and he could not help but frown as he looked at the ground.
He already knew this about himself, and it was one of the main reasons he wanted to get somebody to teach him the fist path.
To majority, if not, all his classmates, he was a master at using his fists.
The little fights he fought with them, and the simulation of the battle against the Bulwarks would make them believe that he was extremely talented when it came to fists.
But Simon knew that he was not.
If he ever encountered an enemy who could match him in terms of physical strength and was truly talented in the fist path like he was talented in the sword path, he would find it difficult to win using only his fists.
And this flaw, or this habit of his which he could not and would not destroy or forget, was exposed to Instructor Ormon and Instructor Amahi.
"You’re holding a sword that isn’t there."
Simon looked up and locked his gaze on the Raksha.
These seven words perfectly described how he fought, but only those with battle experience and those with adequate knowledge of the fist path and sword path would be able to perfectly understand what Ormon was saying.
Simon did.
Instructor Ormon shook his head slightly, then he opened the palm of his upper right hand.
"In case you don’t understand what I mean, let me explain."
"It’s not that whenever you throw a punch, you act like you’re swinging a sword."
"No."
"If that was how you fought, then I would have kicked you out a long time ago."
Ormon looked at his fist and clenched it, then he looked back at Simon.
"A swordsman fights while thinking about the range between themselves and their enemy or enemies. Because of the sword, they have to make sure that their enemies are not too close to them."
"The attack of a swordsman is usually linear. I mean straight lines and clean arcs. The more perfect and straight a swordsman’s swing is, the more deadly their cut and slash."
"A swordsman usually wants to end a battle with a single decisive cut. They prefer precision over contact."
Whoosh!
Instructor Ormon punched, and a blast of wind flew toward Simon.
Simon did not dodge, and he allowed the wind to hit him and to blow his white hair.
"That is how you punch."
Ormon lowered his hand and looked at Simon with the same serious expression he had from the beginning of this conversation.
"Your punches are... too straight and too direct. It’s like you’re piercing with your sword, and that’s very wrong."
"If you’re making your arm to be as steady and straight as a sword, then you won’t be able to react to close range attacks with your hands. You’ll be forced to dodge."
Ormon paused, then he released another punch at Simon.
The wind generated from the punch hit Simon and blew his hair to the back.
Before this wind blast was over, another wind hit Simon, but this... was different.
"Can you tell me where you were hit the second time?"
Instructor Ormon asked, and Simon brushed the hair that was covering his eyes to the back.
"The first hit me in the face, and the second hit me in my stomach."
Ormon nodded. "Good. If I punched like you, I would find it a little bit more difficult to punch in two different places at such quick succession."
"You might need a second more to adjust your body."
Instructor Ormon suddenly a soft uppercut to the air, and Simon raised his brows in confusion.
"Even the times when you tried to give me an uppercut, it felt... straight."
Ormon shook his head as he recalled the utter confusion he had when Simon tried to uppercut him during their spar.
"Because of how direct your uppercut was, it was pretty easy for me to dodge it. An uppercut is meant to have a sort of curve as you twist your body."
Ormon wanted to say a lot more but he was tired of talking, so he stopped talking and released a frustrated sigh.
Sigh
The only reason why he spoke so much is because Simon was truly talented and frightening.
He could see immense potential in Simon, and he wanted to see by how much he could nurture this sprout called Simon.
"If you want to be a brawler and not a swordsman, then you’ll have to learn how to fight in short range, and to layer your attacks. Stop treating every strike of yours like a final cut."
Simon nodded, and in his mind, he began to respect this perverted and sex crazed instructor.
He already knew some of his flaws, but Ormon exposed more and taught him more.
He closed his eyes, then he bowed.
"Thank you for this lesson."
Instructor Ormon stroked his beard and nodded like a wise old man.
"Hmm. That’s surprising. I didn’t know you could bow your head to me. I thought you’d be extremely arrogant."
Simon shrugged. "And you also surprised me. I thought the only thing that was in your head was women and sex. I was worried I made a mistake choosing you."
Instructor Ormon chuckled. "Do you know that very few are bold enough to say that to me. Many fear me."
Simon indifferently shrugged for the second time.
"Well, I guess I’m part of that few."
"Hmm." Ormon stroked his beard with a smile. "Yeah. I guess you are. I like bold men and women. Good job impressing me."
’I didn’t impress you, you impressed me, and that’s not an easy feat. Good job for impressing me, you pervert.’
Just as Simon had this arrogant and truthful thought, Ormon’s next words made him freeze.
"Let’s spar again. But this time around, use a sword."
"Huh?" Simon looked at the Instructor with his mouth slightly open.
If his mask was not on his face, his stunned expression would be exposed.
He watched as Ormon brought out a sword from his spatial ring, then he threw it.
’Ohh... This is bad.’
The moment Simon had this thought, the sword fell in front of him.
Clang!