The thirty-odd students of Spring’s class stopped fighting. They looked at her with disbelief, as if seeing a three-headed cat.
“Instructor, can we fight her?” Tjinna asked.
“You will treat her like a regular student,” Wartorn said, also confused by Spring’s haughty statement. “No blows to the neck, spine, head, or around the heart. For women, no blows aimed at the breasts, no crotch for men. Everything else is fair.”
“These coins are for the strong,” Rowny shouted and charged towards Spring, after getting the permission.
I have to take out thirty of them without appearing too competent. Can I even do that? I can’t use The Bending Reed techniques, and I mustn’t draw blood. Otherwise, I’ll have to act like I’m suffering from a panic attack and automatically lose. Spring watched Rowny prepare for the blow, trying to knock the wind from her with one strike to the plexus. She suddenly sprang towards him, hitting his abdomen with a quick jab.
The brawny youth doubled over, gasping for air. His eyes bulged as he struggled to understand what had happened and how such minute motion caused such devastating damage.
Unperturbed, Spring ran into the midst of the gaping youths. She used the moment of surprise to eliminate the greatest threat, and disable Rowny’s two teammates with a pair of snap kicks. By the time the rest of the students reacted, five men and one woman were already on the ground, heaving and wheezing for air.
“Stop her!” someone shouted behind Spring’s back, and she heard the bat of lone feet, before students from two other brawls joined in, seeking to overwhelm her with numbers. She turned around in time to see a fist heading towards her midsection. She had no time to dodge, and instead, sent a palm into the attacking youth’s shoulder.
Her extended arm struck before the hook, and the youth’s shoulder popped. Spring disregarded his pained scream and used the force of the strike to open more distance. She fed her second-eyes mana and expanded her field of vision, enhancing her peripheral vision.
She ducked under the blow aimed at her shoulder, coming from her left. She let her attacker get above her, then stood, lifting her and using her as a shield she threw at the two youths running towards her.
Spring used the opening and dashed out of the ring of attackers. She moved constantly, forcing them to obstruct and trip each other, fighting one or two at a time. After five minutes of awkward maneuvering, she was the last one standing.
Spring turned around, looking whether any enemies remained, pretending to be down when she heard a clap, soon joined by three others. She spun and saw Wartorn applauding, as did the three other instructors. The one missing an arm slapped his thigh to show his appreciation.
“That was an excellent example of hand to hand combat and how to fight against overwhelming numbers,” Wartorn said. “Tommen used a similar tactic to survive against seven topiary horrors until his backup arrived.”
“Nah, Young Miss Searing did it better,” the one-armed Tommen shook his head. “I had an ax, and I used trees as shields.”
The students are bound to hate me after taking their resources and publicly humiliating them, however, I have no conflict of interest with the instructors. At least, not yet.
Spring considered the most suitable way she wanted to develop the conversation before replying, “Instructor is praising me too much. Topiary horrors must have been more dangerous than my clumsy classmates.”
Tommen laughed, and the rest of the instructors covered their mouths. “They were. But this is your first day at school and tactics for fighting in groups and against groups are advanced. We will teach them next year.”
Yes, after you weed out the protected. You wouldn’t want to teach them how to form organized resistance and start an uprising.
Spring remained silent, despite making the connection, and Tommen kept talking. “Tactics make more sense when you have experience fighting against each other. You can see what you were doing wrong, and what you were doing right. I thought you were doomed when you just jumped into the thick of it, but you realized your precarious situation and left the encirclement right away.”
Spring nodded, and since nobody had anything left to say, she picked up her coins. Forty-two. I need twenty-four more to refine my mana to the late stage. I can drain five more maroons from my room’s applants. I guess I could go around the house, pilfering maroons or crystals used to power applants.
“Have a nice day, see you tomorrow,” Spring said her goodbyes, and madam Wartorn warned her not to be late for class.
She walked out the gate, staring into the pile of coins she held with both her hands, lacking a better container.
I can’t believe it. I put on the skin of a rich clan’s young miss, and yet I have to rummage through their garbage for mana. I don’t even have a money pouch or pockets! Jasmine Searing probably never needed them. She had others to carry her money and goods, but what about me? How am I to get around?
“Young Miss,” someone shouted behind Spring. She turned and saw a carriage with a familiar driver. “I apologize, er, all the carriages were sent away on an errand this morning. Madam ordered me to fetch you and bring you home after your classes.”
The man still stared into the ground, observing etiquette and not meeting his better’s gaze, however, Spring noted the oddness in his choice of words.
He isn’t telling me everything. There’s a story behind this, but whatever happened isn’t his fault. Otherwise, Madam Searing would have dealt with him.
Spring graced the driver with an overjoyed smile. “Thank you. I really didn’t want to go back on foot. It took me two hours to get here this morning,” she chatted and entered the coach.
Her dress made a moist squish as she sat, and Spring looked into the mirror.
I look like I’ve been through a storm. Her dress was soaking wet and partially see-through, her hair in disarray. Even her veil was so damp it clung to her cheeks, hinting at Jasmine Searing’s beautiful features.
I’m thirsty. Second-face’s water consumption was crazy today. It should reabsorb the sweat, or at least a portion of it, staying moist, but water just poured off of me, and there was no way to reuse it.
The ride back lasted mere fifteen minutes, during which Spring explored the carriage, and found applants which refreshed the air, provided illumination, heating and a vibrating massage effect in the seats. Three carmine crystals powered them, and Spring stole around six or seven maroon coins worth of mana from them, making sure not to diminish their glow.
Excess mana will dissipate as it courses through my mana circuits. Come morning, I’ll have some four or five maroons’ worth of mana left. With five I can certainly get from my room, I just need fourteen. No, sixteen. I should plan for the worst. People fail their breakthroughs and waste mana precisely because they believe they have enough mana at their disposal. I can easily keep two coins in my pocket, should they prove a surplus, but even if I waste them, who cares, as long as I succeed.
If I internalize these forty-two coins after breakfast tomorrow, I can extract the mana I need from the carriage, heedless of the consequences to achieve my goal, but that’s stupid. I could just rob the students from other classes come Friday.
The carriage drew to a halt, and Spring waited for the driver to open the door.
“Young Miss, we have arrived,” the man said, and Spring came out without sparing him a glance.
“This carriage stinks, I want a new one tomorrow.” She left him behind dumbfounded.
“Yes, Young Miss,” he shouted after her, but Spring had already entered the manor and went towards her room.
“Follow me,” she snapped at the first maid she encountered.
“I want you to prepare a set of clothes for running and training. They shall be ready by tomorrow morning. And they must have pockets! Since nobody kept me company for breakfast this morning, I will eat breakfast alone in my room from now on. I wouldn’t want to occupy the dining hall when I’m not wanted…”
Spring spoke as she strode towards her bedroom, while the maid, carrying neatly folded bedsheets, trotted behind her mumbling, ‘Yes, Young Miss,’ whenever Spring finished a sentence.
Spring entered the room, but the maid stopped at the door. “Follow me in. Do you expect me to undress with the door open?”
The terrified maid scurried inside, and Spring took her veil and dress off, discarding them onto the ground, followed by the bra and panties.
“Take those and leave. I will come down for lunch in one hour.” The maid stood there, gaping at the perfect feminine form.
“Go,” Spring barked and the maid fumbled, picking the clothes from the ground and placing them atop the stacked clean laundry she carried.
“Yes, Young Miss. Sorry, Young Miss,” she bowed, and dropped her laundry. She gathered them into a messy heap and escaped the room as Spring entered her bathroom.
The thirty-odd students of Spring’s class stopped fighting. They looked at her with disbelief, as if seeing a three-headed cat.
“Instructor, can we fight her?” Tjinna asked.
“You will treat her like a regular student,” Wartorn said, also confused by Spring’s haughty statement. “No blows to the neck, spine, head, or around the heart. For women, no blows aimed at the breasts, no crotch for men. Everything else is fair.”
“These coins are for the strong,” Rowny shouted and charged towards Spring, after getting the permission.
I have to take out thirty of them without appearing too competent. Can I even do that? I can’t use The Bending Reed techniques, and I mustn’t draw blood. Otherwise, I’ll have to act like I’m suffering from a panic attack and automatically lose. Spring watched Rowny prepare for the blow, trying to knock the wind from her with one strike to the plexus. She suddenly sprang towards him, hitting his abdomen with a quick jab.
The brawny youth doubled over, gasping for air. His eyes bulged as he struggled to understand what had happened and how such minute motion caused such devastating damage.
Unperturbed, Spring ran into the midst of the gaping youths. She used the moment of surprise to eliminate the greatest threat, and disable Rowny’s two teammates with a pair of snap kicks. By the time the rest of the students reacted, five men and one woman were already on the ground, heaving and wheezing for air.
“Stop her!” someone shouted behind Spring’s back, and she heard the bat of lone feet, before students from two other brawls joined in, seeking to overwhelm her with numbers. She turned around in time to see a fist heading towards her midsection. She had no time to dodge, and instead, sent a palm into the attacking youth’s shoulder.
Her extended arm struck before the hook, and the youth’s shoulder popped. Spring disregarded his pained scream and used the force of the strike to open more distance. She fed her second-eyes mana and expanded her field of vision, enhancing her peripheral vision.
She ducked under the blow aimed at her shoulder, coming from her left. She let her attacker get above her, then stood, lifting her and using her as a shield she threw at the two youths running towards her.
Spring used the opening and dashed out of the ring of attackers. She moved constantly, forcing them to obstruct and trip each other, fighting one or two at a time. After five minutes of awkward maneuvering, she was the last one standing.
Spring turned around, looking whether any enemies remained, pretending to be down when she heard a clap, soon joined by three others. She spun and saw Wartorn applauding, as did the three other instructors. The one missing an arm slapped his thigh to show his appreciation.
“That was an excellent example of hand to hand combat and how to fight against overwhelming numbers,” Wartorn said. “Tommen used a similar tactic to survive against seven topiary horrors until his backup arrived.”
“Nah, Young Miss Searing did it better,” the one-armed Tommen shook his head. “I had an ax, and I used trees as shields.”
The students are bound to hate me after taking their resources and publicly humiliating them, however, I have no conflict of interest with the instructors. At least, not yet.
Spring considered the most suitable way she wanted to develop the conversation before replying, “Instructor is praising me too much. Topiary horrors must have been more dangerous than my clumsy classmates.”
Tommen laughed, and the rest of the instructors covered their mouths. “They were. But this is your first day at school and tactics for fighting in groups and against groups are advanced. We will teach them next year.”
Yes, after you weed out the protected. You wouldn’t want to teach them how to form organized resistance and start an uprising.
Spring remained silent, despite making the connection, and Tommen kept talking. “Tactics make more sense when you have experience fighting against each other. You can see what you were doing wrong, and what you were doing right. I thought you were doomed when you just jumped into the thick of it, but you realized your precarious situation and left the encirclement right away.”
Spring nodded, and since nobody had anything left to say, she picked up her coins. Forty-two. I need twenty-four more to refine my mana to the late stage. I can drain five more maroons from my room’s applants. I guess I could go around the house, pilfering maroons or crystals used to power applants.
“Have a nice day, see you tomorrow,” Spring said her goodbyes, and madam Wartorn warned her not to be late for class.
She walked out the gate, staring into the pile of coins she held with both her hands, lacking a better container.
I can’t believe it. I put on the skin of a rich clan’s young miss, and yet I have to rummage through their garbage for mana. I don’t even have a money pouch or pockets! Jasmine Searing probably never needed them. She had others to carry her money and goods, but what about me? How am I to get around?
“Young Miss,” someone shouted behind Spring. She turned and saw a carriage with a familiar driver. “I apologize, er, all the carriages were sent away on an errand this morning. Madam ordered me to fetch you and bring you home after your classes.”
The man still stared into the ground, observing etiquette and not meeting his better’s gaze, however, Spring noted the oddness in his choice of words.
He isn’t telling me everything. There’s a story behind this, but whatever happened isn’t his fault. Otherwise, Madam Searing would have dealt with him.
Spring graced the driver with an overjoyed smile. “Thank you. I really didn’t want to go back on foot. It took me two hours to get here this morning,” she chatted and entered the coach.
Her dress made a moist squish as she sat, and Spring looked into the mirror.
I look like I’ve been through a storm. Her dress was soaking wet and partially see-through, her hair in disarray. Even her veil was so damp it clung to her cheeks, hinting at Jasmine Searing’s beautiful features.
I’m thirsty. Second-face’s water consumption was crazy today. It should reabsorb the sweat, or at least a portion of it, staying moist, but water just poured off of me, and there was no way to reuse it.
The ride back lasted mere fifteen minutes, during which Spring explored the carriage, and found applants which refreshed the air, provided illumination, heating and a vibrating massage effect in the seats. Three carmine crystals powered them, and Spring stole around six or seven maroon coins worth of mana from them, making sure not to diminish their glow.
Excess mana will dissipate as it courses through my mana circuits. Come morning, I’ll have some four or five maroons’ worth of mana left. With five I can certainly get from my room, I just need fourteen. No, sixteen. I should plan for the worst. People fail their breakthroughs and waste mana precisely because they believe they have enough mana at their disposal. I can easily keep two coins in my pocket, should they prove a surplus, but even if I waste them, who cares, as long as I succeed.
If I internalize these forty-two coins after breakfast tomorrow, I can extract the mana I need from the carriage, heedless of the consequences to achieve my goal, but that’s stupid. I could just rob the students from other classes come Friday.
The carriage drew to a halt, and Spring waited for the driver to open the door.
“Young Miss, we have arrived,” the man said, and Spring came out without sparing him a glance.
“This carriage stinks, I want a new one tomorrow.” She left him behind dumbfounded.
“Yes, Young Miss,” he shouted after her, but Spring had already entered the manor and went towards her room.
“Follow me,” she snapped at the first maid she encountered.
“I want you to prepare a set of clothes for running and training. They shall be ready by tomorrow morning. And they must have pockets! Since nobody kept me company for breakfast this morning, I will eat breakfast alone in my room from now on. I wouldn’t want to occupy the dining hall when I’m not wanted…”
Spring spoke as she strode towards her bedroom, while the maid, carrying neatly folded bedsheets, trotted behind her mumbling, ‘Yes, Young Miss,’ whenever Spring finished a sentence.
Spring entered the room, but the maid stopped at the door. “Follow me in. Do you expect me to undress with the door open?”
The terrified maid scurried inside, and Spring took her veil and dress off, discarding them onto the ground, followed by the bra and panties.
“Take those and leave. I will come down for lunch in one hour.” The maid stood there, gaping at the perfect feminine form.
“Go,” Spring barked and the maid fumbled, picking the clothes from the ground and placing them atop the stacked clean laundry she carried.
“Yes, Young Miss. Sorry, Young Miss,” she bowed, and dropped her laundry. She gathered them into a messy heap and escaped the room as Spring entered her bathroom.
