Making Trouble

"Ha!" With a resounding shout, Ingrid raised her wooden sword high and stepped forward. Channeling all her strength into the blade, she brought it slashing down with all her might against the armored dummy before her! *Crack!* At the sound of the dummy splintering, the wooden sword halted at the edge of the ninth ring. Ingrid withdrew her sword and resumed a vigilant stance. Following the breathing technique taught by the university, she exhaled a ten-foot plume of white vapor, swiftly replenishing her stamina. *At this rate, I should be able to summon a Slash Sword sorcery spirit within the month,* Ingrid thought. As an institution of sorcery with a heritage spanning centuries, Sword and Rose Sorcerer University had long developed various guiding methods for training sorcerers. A training armored dummy like the one before Ingrid was a tool specifically designed to help apprentice sword sorcerers get started. The dummy resembled a wooden post on the outside, with a ten-ring target marked at its core, made of an exceptionally tough material. When an apprentice could cut cleanly into the tenth ring at the center, it meant their talent in swordsmanship was sufficient to summon their very first sword sorcery spirit. Generally speaking, there were three types of one-wing sorcery spirits that sword sorcerers could summon: Slash Sword, Thrust Sword, and Sever Sword. Having dedicated herself to slashing practice, Ingrid naturally aimed to summon a Slash Sword sorcery spirit. Ingrid took a second or two to adjust her breathing. By then, the armored dummy had already repaired itself, looking as though Ingrid had never struck it at all. This was the true marvel of Sword and Rose Sorcerer University's training ground. No matter how severely they were damaged, all the armored dummies would rapidly regenerate. As long as you still had energy, the dummies were yours to batter—after all, it wasn't the dummies who would end up crawling out of the training hall on trembling legs. *Boom!* Just as Ingrid resumed her slashing practice, she heard the entrance doors to the training hall swing violently open. She couldn't resist glancing over. Although the apprentices inside were constantly shouting and drenched in sweat, the training hall was actually a very disciplined place; almost no one dared make a scene here. Anyone bold enough to cause trouble would find dozens of sword sorcery apprentices, brimming with pent-up sword aura, eager to treat them to an "intimate physical exchange" in mere moments. Ingrid had had several persistent suitors last semester, but none had ever dared approach her in the training hall. Such interruptions to training would prompt the hot-blooded apprentices nearby to step up immediately to administer justice if Ingrid so much as frowned. Hot-blooded, restrained, combative, and dripping with male hormones—these were the hallmarks of the training hall. A famous joke circulated within Sword and Rose Sorcerer University: "Some boys start practicing swordsmanship just to chase girls, but end up practicing it to compete with other boys. Maybe love didn't lose to strength; maybe simple strength is just easier to pursue than complicated love." Tonight, however, complicated love boldly strode into the domain of strength. A wave of ruby-glowing hair appeared at the entrance. Her skin was dazzlingly fair, her facial features as delicately sculpted as if polished by an artist, her waist slender enough to encircle with a hand, and her legs long and straight. A rose that belonged at an evening banquet had abruptly blossomed in a training hall bristling with swords. Yet what drew the sword sorcery apprentices' attention most was the object held in her right hand—a wooden training sword. "Sonia?" Ingrid was utterly bewildered as she watched Sonia walk halfway across the training hall, pick an unoccupied armored dummy, and raise her wooden sword to begin training. Although Ingrid bore no ill will toward Sonia, in her eyes, Sonia was the last person who would ever touch swordsmanship. Unlike the graceful, ethereal female sword sorcerers depicted in the fantasy epics and knight dramas on the light screens, real-world female sword sorcerers had to forge physical fitness far exceeding that of ordinary men if they wished to summon sorcery spirits and master spells. Callused hands from swinging swords were a given, and the muscles in their arms, legs, and waist grew thick and powerful from relentless exercise. Those actresses on the screen who performed dazzling swordplay with dainty, unmuscled hands simply did not exist in reality. Even sword sorcery spirits would never acknowledge a physically frail sorcerer. Ingrid had grown up hearing news of sorcery spirits fleeing on their own when aging sword sorcerers grew weak and decrepit. While some claimed female sword sorcerers possessed a certain "athletic beauty," in Ingrid's experience, far more boys pursued female water sorcerers than female sword sorcerers. Besides, Ingrid freely admitted that delicate water sorcerers like Sonia and Lois were far prettier and more refined than a rough fellow of a sword sorcerer like herself. She harbored no resentment about this; while she was busy training, Sonia and the others were applying makeup and skincare. Everyone got what they pursued. That was precisely why Ingrid was so stunned. For Sonia to start practicing swordsmanship now—wasn't that throwing away all her prior efforts? Not only would it derail her progress in water arts, but it would also take a toll on the beauty she so painstakingly maintained. However, when Ingrid noticed an attractive young man wiping away sweat not far from Sonia—still wearing a full training uniform despite the sweltering heat—she suddenly understood. Felix Vosroda, a fellow first-year and the genius apprentice of the swordsmanship department. Although Felix, like Ingrid, was still training hard to summon his first nascent sorcery spirit, he was not aiming for a basic Slash Sword spirit. Felix sought to summon the Vosroda family's secret sorcery spirit: Wave Sword. A sorcerer's nascent spirit was of paramount importance, often determining their future path of development. Families with the means would do everything possible to secure the right cultivation method, ensuring their talented kin summoned the strongest and most suitable nascent spirit. Even a minor rural noble family like Ingrid's possessed secret methods for cultivating spirits, though none suited her. Wave Sword was undeniably stronger than Slash Sword, and Felix's training intensity far outstripped Ingrid's. The reason Felix enjoyed the reputation of being a first-year swordsmanship prodigy was that his technique and training regimen far surpassed his peers. During the swordsmanship department's end-of-term sparring last semester, Ingrid had lost to Felix. But she accepted the defeat whole-heartedly; he was not only more talented than her, but also worked harder. The title of swordsmanship prodigy was well earned. Yet compared to his swordsmanship, girls gossiped far more about another side of Felix. Even though Ingrid came from the countryside, she knew the Vosroda family was among the highest nobility in the Starry Country—one of the Five Pillars of the Starry Council. The Duke of Vosroda, also known as the Star-Forging Duke, controlled the country's most advanced steelworks, spanning both civilian and military sectors. Wielding immense influence across military, political, and commercial spheres, he was practically the most powerful man in the nation. As the duke's second son, Felix should by all rights have attended Truth University. Yet for reasons unknown, he had enrolled at Sword and Rose Sorcerer University instead, leading many to quietly speculate that he was out of favor with the duke. Even if out of favor, Felix remained a direct descendant of the Vosroda line. Even at his lowest, he belonged to the highest tier of society, and plenty of people longed to use his "promotional organ" to climb the social ladder. Furthermore, Felix's social prowess matched his swordsmanship: he went through female companions practically every week, changing women faster than changing clothes. At his peak, Ingrid had noticed a different girl visiting him at the training hall for five consecutive days. It left her both disgusted and impressed—how did this guy have the stamina for other pursuits after such grueling training? After her own sessions, she wanted nothing more than to melt into her bed. Exceptional skill, handsome looks, and a trail of scandals made Felix the undisputed focal point of the training hall. If Sonia had an ulterior motive, Felix was the only plausible target. Yet back when their dorm relations had been somewhat amicable, they had once discussed the boys at school. Lois, Adele, and Sonia had all explicitly stated that they kept Felix at arm's length. After all, a dissolute noble scion like Felix was bound for a political marriage arranged by the Duke of Vosroda. Throwing oneself at him with any romantic hopes would only end in becoming an insignificant member of his ex-girlfriend club. Though Ingrid, who harbored romantic ideals, disliked their brazen opportunism, she admitted their judgment was sound. Over the past year, not a single one of Felix's girlfriends had managed to last more than a week. Could Sonia be here for someone other than Felix? But aside from Felix, no one else here could possibly catch her eye... While Ingrid pondered, Sonia had already begun to train with rigid formality. "Ha!" In sync with her breathing technique, Sonia struck at the armored dummy with her sword, yet barely managed to pierce its outer layer. Ingrid watched for a moment and shook her head repeatedly. Sonia's dominant hand was unsteady, her supporting hand weak, her footwork sloppy, and her body sluggish—not a single movement was proper. She hadn't even changed into athletic training clothes, still wearing her bright, fashionable daily outfit. Even her shout sounded more like she was acting cute. Rather than training, it looked more like she had come to draw attention. Whatever her motive, it certainly wasn't serious training. Ingrid stopped paying attention to her and returned to her own practice. Swordsmanship training demanded the unity of mind, body, and technique; focus was paramount. Every strike required complete concentration: how much force to exert, how much to hold back, the rotation of the shoulders, the flick of the wrists, the shifting of the feet... Only when every detail was mastered could a strike truly be called a sword strike. Slacking off was utterly pointless. An apprentice sorcerer's effort was never for anyone else, but entirely for themselves. Only when an apprentice's talent was sufficient to resonate with the Void Realm could they summon a sorcery spirit out of nothingness, thereby transcending reality, obtaining a pass to step into the Void Realm, and becoming a true Void-Winged sorcerer. At Ingrid's current level, she paused briefly every three strikes and took a break to relax her muscles every thirty strikes. Completing nine hundred strikes within two hours counted as a single training session, accumulating enough exhaustion that she would fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow after a shower. "Ha!" "Ha!" "Ha!" A few minutes later, Ingrid could no longer suppress the irritation in her chest and glanced displeasedly toward Sonia. In just those few short minutes, Ingrid had heard Sonia swing dozens of times without a single pause in between. It was sheer reckless nonsense. Ingrid's anger was only natural. It was like sitting in a solemn, high-stakes examination hall, only for an arrogant student to start scribbling answers without even reading the questions, all while muttering, *"So easy? That's it? Is there really someone who can't do this?"* Anyone else would think that student was just making trouble. What Sonia was doing right now was no different from making trouble. Yet just as Ingrid prepared to go over and warn Sonia, she realized she might have been mistaken. While Sonia's movements remained rough and amateurish, every action strictly followed the requirements of the *Swordsmanship Manual*. Each swing squeezed out every ounce of her strength, and sweat ran down the bridge of her nose. She was by no means fooling around. What was more, compared to a few minutes ago, Sonia's swordsmanship had visibly improved. Her wooden sword could now strike the outer edge of the dummy's first ring! While she still dragged down the average skill level of the entire training hall, she now showed a glimmer of foundational technique—a presence only someone who had trained for months could display! *Has she practiced swordsmanship before?* Ingrid thought. Even so, she still believed Sonia hadn't come for real training. Squandering her stamina like this, Sonia would surely collapse from exhaustion within a few minutes, completely defeating the purpose of training—though it might help with weight loss. *I get it—she must be doing body shaping! I've heard of that!* Ingrid felt she had finally grasped Sonia's goal. Still, she could tell Sonia was on the verge of giving out. After all, even a sword apprentice like Ingrid, who had trained for years, could only manage two hundred and fifty-six consecutive swings in eleven minutes without stopping. For a novice like Sonia, lasting several minutes without a break was already quite remarkable. Feeling somewhat tired herself, Ingrid paused to rest and quietly counted Sonia's swings, intending to step in and offer guidance once Sonia's form broke down. While she didn't believe Sonia would ever switch to the swordsmanship department, fostering even a bit of interest in the sword could only be a good thing.