Chapter 53: Foremost of the Fore (Double-Length Episode)

This melee weapons class was officially taken over by Hannelore, and no one showed the slightest dissatisfaction; instead, everyone was excited and eager to try.

Miyamoto Isshin, acting as the assistant, smiled without a word as he handed out bamboo swords to each student. When he reached Caesar and Lin Nian, he lowered his voice and said, "I look very forward to both of your performances, Master Gattuso, Master Lin."

Caesar remained expressionless, ignoring Miyamoto Isshin, and Lin Nian also said nothing. The two of them thus appeared to be cut from the same cloth. Miyamoto Isshin did not react in the slightest; he conscientiously finished handing out the bamboo swords, then walked back to stand behind and to the side of Hannelore, hands clasped behind his back, serving as a background prop.

"Does anyone here have any prior knowledge of Kendo?" Hannelore was also holding a bamboo sword. Only at times like this could one catch a glimpse of the thug's physique hidden beneath the old man's refined and gentlemanly exterior. The three-foot-nine-inch men's bamboo sword looked like a feather duster in his grip, giving an illusion of effortless mastery just by looking at it.

Out of dozens of students, five or six raised their hands, with Lin Nian among them. This proportion was considered a normal standard; having five or six actually exceeded Hannelore's expectations.

"Foot, leg, waist, spine, arms, hand." Hannelore slowly raised the bamboo sword in his hand, forming the starting posture known as the "seigan-no-kamae." Amidst the crowd, Lin Nian's eyes lit up slightly. Even those who had never studied Kendo could tell that Hannelore's simple starting posture was full of rhythm and a sense of power.

When the seigan posture was completed, Hannelore's gaze swept across everyone, and every student unconsciously took a step back. For a moment, they all thought the principal would step forward in the next instant and strike directly at the face!

"Some say the importance of Kendo lies in the basics: footwork, stance, and techniques, practiced diligently day after day for fifty years as if it were a single day, only then can one achieve greatness." Hannelore slowly lowered the bamboo sword. "But for you, fifty years is too distant, and this class is only fifty minutes long, so my teaching will keep everything simple. Has anyone read The Book of Five Rings?"

This time no one raised their hand, and Lin Nian was no exception. He knew that The Book of Five Rings was one of Miyamoto Musashi's works, but he had never truly read it himself. For him, Kendo was merely a temporary means of making a living rather than the entirety of his life, so naturally he had never deeply studied related knowledge.

Although everyone else failed to raise their hands, behind Hannelore, Miyamoto Isshin quietly raised his. This was not surprising; as the head of the Kendo Club and the successor of the Miyamoto family from the Japan Branch, thoroughly reading the works of Japan's greatest sword saint was practically a mandatory course.

"Isshin-kun, which do you think holds more weight, The Book of Five Rings or the Mirror of Strategy?" Hannelore asked.

"The Book of Five Rings holds more weight," Miyamoto Isshin replied, lowering his hand.

"Why is a book on swordsmanship inferior to a book on military strategy?" Hannelore smiled.

"Military strategy is metaphysical, while swordsmanship comes after," Miyamoto Isshin smiled as well.

While everyone else was baffled by the conversation between Hannelore and Miyamoto Isshin, Lin Nian understood it. Hannelore's meaning was very simple: swordsmanship and techniques are the means to achieve victory, while military strategy is the fundamental principle that teaches one how to win.

"Today, in terms of technique, I will only teach you one movement." Hannelore held the bamboo saber vertically in front of him, pointing forward. "'Chudan-no-kamae,' this is the starting posture. As for the subsequent variations—whether to raise the blade and strike straight down, slash diagonally, execute a reverse kesa-giri, or a men-tsuki—those are merely striking actions and will not be elaborated upon today."

The students in the dojo automatically cleared some space, keeping two meters apart from one another, and assumed the sword-holding posture following Hannelore's example. At this moment, Miyamoto Isshin also walked down with his hands behind his back, correcting the details of everyone's posture and form from the front row onwards.

Caesar's position happened to be directly to Lin Nian's left. He glanced at Lin Nian's current 'Chudan-no-kamae,' which was so standard it looked like a replica of Hannelore's.

Lin Nian also glanced at Caesar's posture, then caught sight of Miyamoto Isshin slowly walking over to correct mistakes. He could not help whispering, "Relax your shoulders, don't face your palms upward when gripping the sword, and move your right foot forward another five centimeters."

Upon hearing this, Caesar immediately adjusted his posture. At that moment, Miyamoto Isshin walked up to him. Seeing this standard Chudan posture, he smiled and shook his head, then bypassed Caesar and came before Lin Nian. However, he merely glanced at Lin Nian's posture and passed by once more.

Lin Nian's expression remained completely unperturbed. Every time he went through his daily routine, he would practice this starting posture hundreds or thousands of times with a suburi bat, so even Hannelore could find no fault with it. Moreover, for a veteran like him, there was entirely no need to nitpick over the details of the starting posture.

Soon, Miyamoto Isshin had checked all the students and returned behind Hannelore. The principal nodded. "Can anyone tell me what is most important during a one-on-one confrontation?"

"The initiative," someone answered without hesitation.

"What is the initiative?" Hannelore asked again.

"Striking first to gain the advantage," that person replied once more.

"Step out of the ranks," Hannelore said indifferently.

The person who answered twice obediently walked out. Lin Nian recognized him because the other person had introduced himself to him earlier, seeming to go by the name "Sigrid." Judging by the name, he looked French; with short brown hair and the features of a quintessential Caucasian race, his light green eyes were exceptionally striking. He had a tall and muscular physique, radiating the innate aura of a French gentleman.

What left the deepest impression on Lin Nian was that this person was a member of the Lionheart Society. Freshmen who could pass the Lionheart Society's evaluation were rare; basically, they were elites with 'A'-grade bloodlines, and this Sigrid was no exception.

"Name," Hannelore lowered his bamboo sword and smiled as he looked at the tall boy in front of him.

"Sigrid Agren," the boy nodded.

"Ah, a descendant of Count Agren. I remember you. Your score in the 3E examination was outstanding, a rare 'A'-grade bloodline. I heard you joined the Lionheart Society," Hannelore smiled.

"The descendant of a count is of no consequence. My motherland has long abolished the monarchy, and titles are merely things used to fool young girls," Sigrid was evidently somewhat flattered that the principal remembered him, and his tone remained very modest during the conversation. "As for joining the Lionheart Society, I merely had good luck and barely passed the assessment."

"Have you studied Kendo?" Hannelore asked.

"No, but I've studied some Cossack cavalry saber techniques," Sigrid nodded.

"Then use whatever starting posture you are accustomed to. Today we are studying Kendo theory, not basic drills." Hannelore waved his hand, and the students in the front row immediately stepped back to clear an open space.

Sigrid took a deep breath, seemingly understanding what was about to happen. In the eyes of Caesar and Lin Nian behind the crowd, flickers of undisguised envy flashed by. Sharing this exact expression in a third corner of the classroom was the waiting teaching assistant, Miyamoto Isshin.

"Cossack cavalry saber techniques of the Systema variety?" Hannelore asked with a smile when he saw Sigrid holding the bamboo sword vertically at his right side.

"You are well-read, Principal," Sigrid nodded.

"What is the initiative?" Hannelore repeated his initial question.

"Striking first to gain the advantage is the initiative," Sigrid replied.

"Then you attack first," Hannelore assumed his starting posture.

Sigrid concentrated, gazing at the smiling Hannelore. His feet did not move; his entire body was as tense as steel. Everyone in the classroom watched him, wondering from what angle, with what force, and at what speed his upcoming attack would be launched in the next second.

The stalemate lasted for about ten seconds. Sigrid took a step forward to break the deadlock, drawing his 'sword' to slash toward Hannelore's left thigh while simultaneously extending his left hand to press against the bamboo saber held by the principal, intending to block any possible counterattack while executing a swift slash!

From within the crowd, Lin Nian suddenly let out a sound of astonishment.

Sigrid's head blossomed; the bamboo sword struck squarely on his forehead. His left hand grabbed empty air, and even the bamboo sword in his right hand slashed through nothingness. At this moment, Hannelore stood beside Sigrid, holding the bamboo sword with both hands in the posture of a downward chop.

Only then did a synchronized gasp of amazement ring out through the dojo. Everyone's gaze had been focused entirely on Sigrid, so no one had seen Hannelore's movement clearly. He had seemed like a ghost, piercing right through Sigrid's attack and smashing a single sword strike onto the boy's forehead.

"Sen-sen-no-ken," Hannelore removed the bamboo sword from his student's head. "In combat, everyone wants to seize the initiative; this is known as 'Sen.' But we can go a step beyond 'Sen' and reach the victorious state of 'Sen-sen-no-ken'—the initiative of the initiative. The moment your opponent raises their sword or takes a step, you perceive the intention behind their 'first move' and preemptively strike them first. This is the highest-level and most practical tactic among the 'Three Sens.'"

Thunderous applause erupted in the dojo. Sigrid was still somewhat dazed, unclear about how he had been defeated. During those ten seconds, he had constructed the optimal attacking route in his mind and even thought of ways to counter a counterattack. Yet the moment he made his move and took that step, Hannelore had read all his intentions and seized victory with a superior solution. If that had been a real blade, Sigrid's skull would have been split open by now.

Sigrid bowed, stowed his bamboo sword, and walked back into the formation. Holding the bamboo sword in one hand, Hannelore continued his lecture: "Therefore, in a Kendo confrontation, there will always be a stalemate lasting tens of seconds or even minutes. Observation, feints, fake moves, discernment—the battle begins long before the sword is drawn. That frozen period is the moment to seize 'Sen-sen-no-ken.' It relies heavily on observational skills, the anticipation of precursors, and the synthesis of combat experience. If your judgment is wrong, your head is lopped off; if your judgment is correct, your opponent's head hits the ground. This is what I want to teach you in today's class."

Are foundational moves more important, or is military strategy?

Hannelore's simple duel provided the answer: military strategy is metaphysical, and subsequent techniques are what achieve victory.

"Try to see through things, to pierce the deception, and also try to feint and deceive. Warfare is the art of deception. This course teaches you how to survive on the battlefield, rather than imparting techniques honed over a hundred years," Hannelore smiled and swept his gaze over all the students. "Does anyone else want to give it a try?"

Lin Nian and Caesar raised their hands simultaneously, and students raising their hands accounted for half the classroom. Even though Sigrid's miserable defeat was still fresh in everyone's mind, it could not stop them from wanting to challenge Hannelore, the living legend.

"There are many people," Hannelore smiled. "Since there are many, we naturally need to set a threshold. Isshin-kun."

Miyamoto Isshin walked quietly from the corner to the front of the stage. Hannelore brushed past him and patted his shoulder. "I'm going outside to catch some fresh air. Whoever can secure the first victory against this Kendo Club president will be considered to have passed today's class. I'll come back in a bit to offer some guidance to that genius myself."

The moment Hannelore walked out of the dojo, a strange thing happened: the raised hands suddenly vanished to almost none.

Everyone knew V. A. Hannelore, but they also knew Miyamoto Isshin, the president of the Kendo Club.

The freshmen's impression of Miyamoto Isshin came from posts on the Potter's Forum, where meddlesome students had compiled a series of videos of the Kendo Club gate-crashing other dojos, with the protagonist being none other than the club president Miyamoto Isshin himself.

Armed with a single bamboo sword, he treated every battle as a life-or-death duel, striking ruthlessly without mercy—kesa-giri, horizontal slashes, jodan-no-kamae. Every technique was executed with such ferocious intensity that it felt as though he intended to smash through his opponent along with the wooden floor beneath their feet. Just watching the videos imparted a strong visual impact of decisive, merciless slaughter.

No one wanted to be struck squarely by a person like that, not even with a bamboo sword, because in the hands of a monster like him, the fierce momentum of a bamboo sword strike was completely indistinguishable from a real blade. Nobody enjoyed personally experiencing the agony of "dying once" during a sparring session.

However, when most people lowered their arms, two arms remained held high in the dojo, and Miyamoto Isshin showed no surprise, a smile playing across his face.

The ones raising their hands were Caesar Gattuso and Lin Nian. Under Miyamoto Isshin's nod, the two men took their bamboo swords and stepped out of the formation.

"The moment I learned that the freshmen had a melee weapons class today, I actively applied for the position of teaching assistant," Miyamoto Isshin looked at Lin Nian with a gentle smile.

"Senior, a person's flaw lies in being fond of playing the teacher," Lin Nian walked to the very front of the crowd. "I call you senior not out of fear, but out of respect, and I hope you don't misunderstand."

"I've heard that the Japanese have a very strong sense of hierarchy, but it seems someone brought those customs to the wrong place," Caesar loosened the wrist holding his sword as if warming up.

"Has Master Gattuso ever studied the sword?" Miyamoto Isshin looked at Caesar.

"A little bit. I wanted to spar with the principal and receive some guidance," the moment Caesar spoke, he showed everyone what arrogance without the slightest trace of awe looked like. When he uttered those words so casually, it was as if he were going out for afternoon tea, skipping past Miyamoto Isshin entirely to target Hannelore directly.

"Such grand momentum. Lin-sang, this is what I told you about as 'sharpness.' At first, I thought you were a proud man just like Master Gattuso." Miyamoto Isshin took a step forward, and the students behind him all retreated. Everyone could see that the situation in the dojo had shifted from a teaching session into a personal grudge match; nobody wanted to meddle in such an atmosphere.

A rising star of the Gattuso family fighting the Kendo Club president alongside an 'S'-rank student sounded exceptionally dramatic.

"I'll go first," Caesar said.

Lin Nian did not contend for it and stepped back to enter the spectator area.

"Master Gattuso will go first?" Miyamoto Isshin nodded. "Have you grasped the practical concept of 'Sen-sen-no-ken,' Master Gattuso? This is the absolute foundation of practical Kendo."

"I recall that you Japanese are a people with strict hierarchical distinctions. In the workplace and at schools, the stratification of superiors and subordinates is extremely obvious. This stratification manifests in every aspect of your lives, and one of the most obvious things is forms of address," Caesar unbuttoned his school uniform jacket, holding the bamboo sword in his right hand and letting it hang naturally at his side. "Titles like 'kun' can be used among intimates and friends, but it seems the two of us are not friends."

Miyamoto Isshin said nothing, merely smiling.

"And another usage is an elder addressing a junior, a superior addressing a subordinate," Caesar drew his left hand out of his uniform jacket, changed his stance to face Miyamoto Isshin sideways, locked his gaze onto the Japanese man, and said coldly, "Who on earth do you think you're looking down upon?"

Miyamoto Isshin's eyes widened slightly. From his perspective, he could not see Caesar's grip on the bamboo sword at all, nor the orientation of the blade. This simple posture completely concealed Caesar's attacking strategy within the darkness. Those azure-blue eyes reflected his own figure as if countless blades were already aimed at his vitals.

The formidable momentum erupting from Caesar at this moment was so rigid and stern. Hidden in the darkness was not a bamboo sword, but a sharpened, lethal blade capable of taking a life. The moment it struck, even steel could be cleaved in two!

Principal Hannelore was right: 'Sen-sen-no-ken' is a theory of military strategy, not a mere technique. A successful theory can be applied in all scenarios, disregarding methods and styles, solely to seize the initiative.

The deepest layer of condescension toward the arrogant young nobleman of the Gattuso family vanished from Miyamoto Isshin's eyes. Instead, a delighted smile surged openly across his face. He was always someone who wore his emotions on his sleeve; he grew excited when encountering strong adversaries and felt disdain when meeting mediocre ones. When he first met Lin Nian, he could not suppress his joy and smiled, and today, unexpectedly, he wore that exact same expression when facing Caesar Gattuso.

Due to the lazy and indulgent academic atmosphere of Cassel College, he looked down on the vast majority of people and thus had never bothered to understand Caesar Gattuso. Yet he felt that right here, right now, might be the best way to decipher whether this rumored proud emperor was a genuine genius or an undeserving fraud.

"Pleased to meet you, I am Miyamoto Isshin." Miyamoto Isshin tapped the sword hilt with his index fingers while his other fingers relaxed and lifted. Once his smile faded, he assumed a stern expression and looked at Caesar.

"Caesar Gattuso," Caesar said, and without the slightest hesitation, he moved! He shot forward like a crossbow bolt, starting so fast that people struggled to react. He stepped, sprinted, and his sharpness erupted completely. A suffocating, oppressive weight washed over Miyamoto Isshin, causing everyone in the dojo to involuntarily lean back to evade that invisible pressure—it was the symbol of a powerful bloodline flowing through veins, driving everything to its absolute extreme!

Sen-sen-no-ken!

With his blade hidden against his chest, opponents could not see his offensive trajectory at all. Whenever the first step was taken, it was always the initiative of the initiative!