The old man stood a few meters away from Rayen, his posture firm. "Now we begin your martial arts training," he said. "I'll teach you the basics, the advanced forms, and eventually the master-level techniques. With this, you'll learn how to defend and attack efficiently. But first—concentrate your life force into your arms and hands. Otherwise, if I don't go easy on you, you might end up breaking something."
A chill ran down Rayen's spine at the warning, but he nodded and tried to steady his breath. He focused, channeling his life force into his arms and hands, feeling the slight tension building under his skin.
Then, he took a stance—feet firm, arms forward, elbows slightly bent. It was a form he remembered well.
The old man raised an eyebrow, watching with curiosity. What kind of stance is that? I've never seen anything like it...
Rayen smirked inwardly. Hehe, I knew this would surprise him. I don't actually know how to use Wing Chun, but I've seen the stance in the game. At least it looks cool.
The old man tossed his cane aside and took his stance—arms raised, elbows slightly bent, legs firmly planted shoulder-width apart. His posture was calm, yet sharp like a coiled beast ready to strike.
"Now, come at me," he said.
Without a second thought, Rayen charged forward recklessly, no strategy in mind. He threw a punch with full force, but the old man easily sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and with a swift motion, threw him hard to the ground.
CRACK!
A sharp pain shot through Rayen's arm as he screamed, thrashing in agony.
The old man's expression shifted from calm to stern. With a flash of irritation, he stepped forward and gave Rayen a sharp slap across the cheek.
"Why didn't you focus your life force?!" he snapped. "It's not just about charging at your enemy! You have to understand both your opponent—and your own strength!"
Then, softening his tone slightly, he placed his hand gently over Rayen's injured arm and began chanting a spell. In a faint glow of light, the pain vanished, and the broken bone healed in an instant.
Rayen slowly got to his feet, shaking off the dull ache still lingering in his muscles. He raised his arms, settling back into the Wing Chun stance.
That healing spell… he used it without hesitation. He can fight and heal like it's nothing. Who even is this old man? Just how powerful is he?
The old man stepped back, returning to his stance with unwavering focus. "Now, come at me again," he said, his voice calm but firm. "But this time, focus on three things—me, your life force, and a strategy to defeat me."
Rayen moved forward, still rough around the edges. His punch came a second too slow and his footwork lacked precision. The old man caught his wrist and redirected him with minimal effort. Rayen stumbled, but didn't fall this time. He adjusted his stance and tried again.
There was no breakthrough. The old man continued to read him like an open book, countering every move with ease. But Rayen was no longer mindlessly charging. He paused between strikes now, eyes scanning the old man's form, looking for any hint of an opening. His fists weren't just flying wild—they were trying to reach something.
A kick came next, not well-formed, but better aimed than before. The old man blocked it, nodded subtly, and stepped aside. "You're thinking. That's good."
Rayen didn't smile or lose focus. He was too busy breathing, focusing, shifting his life force—not perfectly, but better than the last time. His muscles weren't reacting fast enough, and his control wasn't deep, but he was slowly beginning to feel how his life force moved within him. His arms didn't sting as much when he blocked the next counter.
He attacked again. Sloppy, wide—blocked. Then again. Tighter, faster—but still blocked.
"You're still far from ready," the old man said, brushing away the next strike with two fingers, "but you're not swinging like a blind fool anymore."
Rayen's chest rose and fell heavily. Sweat rolled down his jaw. He nodded once, silent, and returned to his stance.
This time, the old man didn't say "again." He simply waited.
And Rayen came at him.
Rayen circled slowly now, not charging in recklessly. His breathing was loud, shoulders heavy, and fists clenched—not just from exhaustion, but from how hard he was thinking. Each movement the old man made looked flawless, but something felt… off.
Wait… Rayen narrowed his eyes, watching closely as the old man deflected his next punch.
There. A tiny pause.
It was barely anything—less than a blink—but right after each counter, the old man's movements reset just a bit slower. His hands dropped for a fraction of a second, like his energy needed the smallest breath before continuing.
Rayen didn't react immediately. He let the next few exchanges happen. Punch. Parry. Kick. Redirect. Every time, that brief moment returned. The old man wasn't invincible—just ridiculously skilled. But even skill had rhythm.
Rayen exhaled, pulled back, and ran at him again. But instead of throwing an obvious punch, he ducked and twisted his weight, faking a step back. The old man's guard followed for just a moment too long—and that moment was all Rayen needed.
He channeled a sliver of life force into his fingers and swiped.
A red line appeared on the old man's cheek.
Rayen froze. Shock flickered in his eyes. I actually… landed a hit?
The old man reached up and touched the shallow cut. He stared at the blood on his fingers, then gave a small nod and the faintest smile. "Not bad."
Rayen stood firm, breathing hard, trying to hold his stance despite his trembling legs.
He's still too fast. Too strong. But… I found something. A rhythm. A weakness, even if it's small. Anyway, I'm a gamer—I know how to turn it to my advantage.
The old man wiped his cheek and stepped back into position. "Let's see if that wasn't just luck. Again."
They fought the whole day without even taking a break for lunch. Now, the sun had set and the moon was visible. Rayen lay on the ground, covered in cuts and bruises. The old man sat beside him, his body marked by only three cuts—one on his cheek and two on his hands.
Rayen looked up at the moon. I did it. I actually landed three hits. Though I didn't do much damage, it's still my first time in this world. He smirked. I was a pro strategist in the game. I know master-level combat arts, but I still can't use them. Because this isn't a keyboard controlling me—it's a real soul.
The old man noticed Rayen smirking to himself. "What's the matter? Why are you so happy? Is it because of the hits you landed on me?"
Rayen's smirk widened as he nodded. The old man smirked back. "It's just because I'm old that you think you're cool for landing a mere three hits on me. That's pathetic," he mocked.
Rayen smiled with irritation. I'll definitely shut your mouth one day, old bald.
Then Rayen stood up. "I'm going to make dinner."
"Okay," the old man replied, gazing at the stars. As Rayen started to leave, the old man suddenly remembered something. "Wait."
Rayen stopped and looked back. "What?"
With a smile, the old man said, "Tomorrow we will go to the city."
Rayen's eyes widened. Yoo, I forgot there's a world outside these plains. It's been ten years since I was born in this world, but I've never left this plains to reached the city!
Excited, Rayen said, "I'll go make dinner. Then we'll sleep—tomorrow will be fun." He jumped and hurried into the house.
The old man watched him, feeling happy. He's improving. I want to prove Vaelion's words wrong. My Rayen isn't like the others cursed ones; he will never be the cause of someone's death. I will show everyone how different my child is.
---
Next morning, the old man was packing a bag just for Rayen, knowing full well that Rayen would demand many things in the market like a typical kid.
Rayen slipped on the boots and new clothes the old man had given him.
Then the old man said, "So, let's go."
Rayen nodded eagerly and dashed outside.
Is the city the same as in the game? I'm so excited!