Chapter Thirty-Four: Guangwo’s Instructions and the Do-or-Die Preparations

Baitang Jing patted Saeko’s hand on his shoulder and spoke.
“Since you’ve acknowledged that I’m to be the successor of the Dojima Style, then there’s no reason for someone who smashed our sign to just walk out of this dojo unscathed. Isn’t that right, Master?”
“…Ah, what a predicament. I’d found a promising seedling and was hoping to start training him right away. But if I’ve been seen through, there’s nothing to be done.”
The elderly man, who had already hauled the burly Mitsushima to the door, sighed helplessly.
Yet, as someone who had stood tall in the martial world for decades, with the head of the school speaking, he had no intention of playing any more tricks and set Mitsushima down.
At this point, Mitsushima accepted the outcome of joining the Takemoto school. As for the punishment for his failed challenge, it had never occurred to a man like him to avoid it.
He had only been unable to speak earlier because Takemoto Hisayasu had restrained him.
So, leaving Hisayasu’s side, he stepped before Baitang Jing.
“I won’t shy from punishment, but please, I beg you, allow me to keep my qualification to fight on!”
He pressed his hands to his sides, bowing deeply at a right angle to Baitang Jing and Saeko, eyes squeezed shut, unmoving.
Baitang Jing’s cold gaze swept over him, then glanced at the embarrassed master scratching his head by the door.
He let out a sigh.
“…You’ll compensate for the damage to the dojo entrance, not a cent less. And, Saeko.”
He jerked his chin at the beautiful swordswoman beside him.
“Break his left hand. Quickly.
If he walks out of here unscathed, others might think he succeeded in his challenge, don’t you agree?”
The latter part was directed at the elder in the kimono at the door.
The burly old man nodded, satisfied, and Mitsushima himself looked up with joy.
The white-haired delinquent was about to raise his left hand to make it easier for Saeko.
But before he could move, a brown blur flashed past.
With two crisp cracks, searing pain shot through his left arm, which instantly went limp as if it were a noodle.
If he hadn’t been prepared, Mitsushima doubted he could have suppressed a scream.
“Ugh!”
“Don’t worry, Mitsushima. The cut to the bone is clean—the cast will see it heal smoothly.”
Saeko’s wooden sword leaned against the sofa, just as it had when she’d first sat to pour tea.

If not for the pain burrowing into his very bones, Mitsushima might have thought that brown blur was a hallucination!
“Ah—using a wooden sword to make such a clean cut through flesh and bone… you really are astonishingly strong!”
“Hardly, you flatter me.”
After exchanging polite words with Saeko, Mitsushima, drenched in cold sweat, was promptly picked up by Takemoto Hisayasu, who made no plans to linger.
He dragged the white-haired delinquent from the dojo.
Heaven had granted him another fine piece of raw talent; he would make up for not having witnessed Baitang Jing’s growth up close!
After all, to personally raise a supreme martial artist, then fight them—win or lose, wasn’t that the greatest thrill?

~~~~~~

After Takemoto Hisayasu and Mitsushima left, Saeko quickly set the main doors in order. The Dojima Style signboard outside—Mitsushima, gritting his teeth, hung it back up himself with his uninjured right hand before leaving.
Only after she fetched a new set of kendo armor from the equipment room for the eager Taisuke did she have a moment to return to the inner hall.
The bespectacled youth still sat on the sofa, holding the wooden plaque that marked his membership in the Kengan Association, eyes vacant.
He seemed to be staring into the plaque, or perhaps simply lost in thought.
Saeko approached quietly. Whether it was her imagination or not, she thought there was a faint chill about Baitang Jing, as if something was drawing away the heat around him.
A pair of perfectly shaped, jade-like hands encircled him from behind, rousing him from his trance.
“Hm? Oh! Thank you, Saeko.”
Without responding, Saeko tightened her arms around him, pressing his back into the sofa.
His head sank into the soft, bouncy embrace of her ample chest—a singular sensation that sent even Baitang Jing’s well-tempered mind reeling.
How skillful, this woman!
He couldn’t help but widen his eyes, but then relaxed, surrendering to the gentleness.
He patted the hands holding him.
“Don’t worry. As I told Master, I’m walking the right path.”
“I believe you, but… your strength grows ever more astonishing. Even in the myth-shrouded tales of old, what you did just now would be called miraculous.”
Her warm, full body pressed close to his.

She only felt the distance between them growing.
When they’d first arrived in Tokyo, he was merely a capable child—strong-willed, able to manage himself, someone who could hold his own in barehanded combat with her.
Yet, in just a year, he could navigate even genuine duels with her effortlessly!
Now, he was edging into the realm of the supernatural…
She felt she could hardly keep up.
Baitang Jing understood the helplessness of watching your goal recede into the distance.
He had, after all, lost count of how many dojos in Fukushima he’d shattered in spirit.
Still, he offered comfort.
“Just wait a little longer, Saeko. When I finish this… I’ll be able to teach you, too.”
“…?!”
Even her look of stunned astonishment was alluring.
Since childhood, she had seen too many secret techniques in the martial world, so demanding that they risked dying out for lack of a worthy successor even with direct instruction.
Thus, she didn’t believe such “supernatural” powers could be taught.
In her view, they belonged to the realm of individual enlightenment—beyond words.
But Baitang Jing wasn’t lying.
Nen, or aura, could indeed be taught and spread—a supernatural power.
He himself had learned it in the tug-of-war with a malicious Nen weapon, hadn’t he?
In theory, there was no problem; all that remained was for him to reach the necessary level to teach Saeko.
The training of Nen was divided into four stages: Ten, Zetsu, Ren, and Hatsu.
Ten was the foundation, stabilizing one’s life energy after it was awakened.
Zetsu was the suppression of that energy.
Ren was its efficient release.
Only after mastering Hatsu—freely controlling and applying one’s life energy to develop unique, superhuman techniques—could one be called a true master of Nen.
Baitang Jing felt only once he’d completed Hatsu would he be able to teach Nen without harming the student.
And now, nothing was more urgent than completing his Hatsu before the deadly tournament began in a week!