Just then, the system's voice echoed in Santoryu's mind:
"Running goal for today has been achieved. Now, we move on to sword training. You will practice basic sword swings and form."
Santoryu gave a silent nod, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and stepped back into the house. He made his way to the courtyard, where his three wooden swords lay neatly arranged.
"Start with single-sword training," the system instructed.
"Hold one sword with both hands and swing it in a rhythmic motion. Follow the exact movements of the person in front of you."
Santoryu blinked, confused.
"What person?" he asked, scanning the empty courtyard.
Then, without warning, a translucent human figure appeared before him. It matched his height and build perfectly. The figure began swinging its sword in a smooth, fluid pattern—each motion deliberate, precise, and rhythmic.
Santoryu stared, eyebrows raised.
"Is this your doing?" he asked.
"Yes," the system replied.
"Your task is simple: synchronize with this figure. Mirror its movements exactly. When you've mastered single-sword swings, we'll move on to two-sword technique."
Santoryu nodded, tightened his grip on the wooden sword, and took his stance. He began to mimic the figure, trying to match its flow.
At first, it was rough. His balance was off. His swings lacked timing and control. Sometimes he moved too fast, other times too slow. But with each repetition, he adjusted. The mistakes lessened. The rhythm became clearer.
He wasn't perfect—but he was improving.
And that was enough to keep going.
Santoryu continued practicing sword swings for another thirty minutes, focused on matching the movements of the translucent figure. His form was gradually improving, his strikes becoming sharper, more controlled.
Then, the system's voice returned:
"That's enough sword swinging for today. Now, let's shift to practicing sword stances and building better balance during swings. Follow the figure in front of you and mimic each stance precisely."
The figure in front of him shifted into motion once more—this time cycling through a series of sword stances: high stance, low stance, middle stance, and others more intricate and unfamiliar.
Santoryu followed without hesitation, adjusting his posture to match each stance. However long the figure held a stance, he held it for the same duration, staying focused on every detail—footwork, center of gravity, hand placement. The strain on his legs and core began to build, but he didn't falter. He was determined to hold out as long as needed.
More than thirty minutes passed in this way, his body growing heavier with each transition. Still, he pushed through.
Then the system spoke again:
"Now we move on to sword drawing technique. Before attempting it yourself, observe the figure carefully. Watch the movement in detail and understand the timing."
Santoryu nodded. The figure in front of him stopped its stance practice and shifted to a new motion—drawing and sheathing the sword in one swift, seamless motion. Over and over, it repeated the action: draw, strike, sheath. Each repetition was sharp, fluid, and fast.
Santoryu narrowed his eyes, studying the movement intently. He knew this wasn't just about speed—it was about precision, flow, and the ability to act in an instant.
After observing the demonstration several times, Santoryu stepped beside the translucent figure and began mimicking the sword-drawing technique to the best of his ability. His first few attempts were clumsy—too slow, poorly timed, lacking fluidity—but with each repetition, he improved. His movements grew more controlled, his speed more consistent.
For fifteen solid minutes, he practiced the technique without pause. By the end, his breathing had grown heavy, and a deep ache pulsed through his arms and shoulders from the repeated motion.
Then the system's voice spoke once more:
"The goal for today's morning sword training has been completed. Now, enter the three-sword style stance and hold it for as long as possible. Once finished, proceed to physical conditioning."
Santoryu dropped to the ground, chest rising and falling with exhaustion. He sat still for a few minutes, drawing in deep breaths and calming his heartbeat. When he felt ready, he stood and positioned himself in the familiar stance: one sword gripped tightly in each hand, and the third clenched between his teeth.
The strain was immediate.
His body trembled from fatigue, but he held the position as best he could. This time, he lasted only ten minutes—five minutes less than the day before—before collapsing onto the ground, completely spent.
But he knew why. Today's sword training had pushed him harder than ever. The earlier drills had drained him, and holding the stance had simply tipped him over the edge.
After resting for fifteen minutes, he got back up. No complaints, no hesitation.
He began his physical training routine—basic drills like push-ups, squats, and sit-ups. Without any equipment, he relied solely on bodyweight exercises. For now, it was enough.
And as he moved through the sets, exhausted but unwavering, he reminded himself:
This is the foundation. And he was building it—one painful step at a time.
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