Chapter 14 - Training (II)
[Gray’s POV]
I tightened my grip around the wooden sword.
Taking a slow breath, I recalled Mother’s instructions.
Feet.
Hips.
Core.
Shoulders.
Everything had to move together.
Not just my arms.
I adjusted my stance and swung once more.
Whoosh!
The wooden sword cut through the air far more smoothly than before.
It still wasn’t powerful...
But it felt noticeably better.
Mother nodded slightly.
"Better."
"But your body is still stiff."
She walked toward me and gently adjusted my shoulders.
"Relax."
"A sword is not something you force."
"It’s something you guide."
I nodded seriously.
"I understand."
"No."
Mother shook her head.
"You understand with your mind."
"You haven’t understood with your body yet."
She stepped back.
"Again."
I repeated the movement.
Again.
And again.
Every swing felt slightly more natural than the last.
Mother corrected every mistake immediately.
Sometimes it was my footing.
Sometimes my grip.
Sometimes my breathing.
She never raised her voice.
Yet every correction was precise.
Before long, sweat began to form on my forehead.
Even something as simple as swinging a wooden sword correctly demanded far more effort than I had imagined.
Just then—
Footsteps echoed through the training hall.
"Sorry I’m late!"
Amy hurried inside, already wearing her training clothes.
She scratched the back of her head sheepishly.
"I underestimated how long it would take me to change."
Mother looked toward her.
"You aren’t very late."
Amy smiled in relief before walking over to us.
Then she looked at me.
"Oh?"
"You’ve already started."
I let out a helpless laugh.
"I’ve already been corrected more times than I can count."
Amy giggled.
"Mother did the exact same thing to me."
She looked at Mother.
"So..."
"Am I joining today’s training too?"
Mother nodded.
"Yes."
"You’ll train alongside Gray."
"However..."
She looked directly at Amy.
"For today, your role is also to observe."
"The foundation I am teaching Gray is the same one I taught you."
"If you notice that your own basics have become sloppy..."
"Correct them."
Amy immediately became serious.
"I understand, Mother."
Mother gave a small nod before turning back to me.
"A cultivator’s foundation determines everything that follows."
"If the foundation is unstable..."
"Everything built upon it will eventually collapse."
She paused for a moment before continuing.
"That is why I chose to personally oversee this stage."
"However..."
"My responsibilities as Matriarch prevent me from training you every day."
I listened quietly.
"Once your foundation has been properly established, your daily training will continue under the instructor I have already chosen."
"They are currently away on an important assignment."
"Until they return..."
"Selena will supervise your physical conditioning and basic exercises."
"When your instructor returns..."
"They will take over your daily training."
I nodded.
"I understand."
Honestly...
I had expected something like that.
Mother governed one of the most powerful families in the world.
She couldn’t possibly spend every day teaching me personally.
The fact that she had made time to build my foundation herself already meant more than enough.
Seeing my expression, Mother gave a faint smile.
"I’m glad you understand."
Then her expression returned to that of an instructor.
"Now."
She pointed toward the weapon rack.
"Gray."
"You told me yesterday that you wanted to use a sword."
"Tell me why."
I looked down at the wooden sword resting in my hands.
"I don’t think swords are the strongest weapon."
"Every weapon has its own strengths."
"A spear has greater reach."
"A bow excels at long-range combat."
"Daggers are deadly in the right hands."
"But..."
I gently tightened my grip.
"A sword feels balanced."
"It can attack."
"It can defend."
"It adapts to almost any situation."
"It’s versatile."
I smiled slightly.
"And..."
"It just feels right."
"When I imagine myself fighting..."
"The weapon I’m holding is always a sword."
For several moments, Mother simply looked at me.
Then she nodded.
"A simple answer."
"But a good one."
"A weapon should become an extension of its wielder."
"If your heart rejects it..."
"You will never reach its true potential."
She stepped in front of me once more.
"Very well."
"From today onward..."
"You will walk the path of the sword."
She raised her own wooden practice sword.
"Show me your stance."
I immediately obeyed.
"Again."
I adjusted.
"Again."
The lesson had only just begun.
"Good," Mother said with a slight nod.
"Then we’ll begin with the fundamentals of the sword."
She walked to the nearby weapon rack and picked up a wooden practice sword before tossing it toward me.
I instinctively reached out and caught it.
The moment it landed in my hand, I blinked in surprise.
It was heavier than I had expected.
Not so heavy that I couldn’t lift it...
But heavy enough to remind me that my body still belonged to a seven-year-old child.
Mother noticed the subtle change in my expression immediately.
She stepped in front of me.
"First—your stance."
She spoke calmly, but every word carried authority.
"Plant your feet firmly."
"Keep your balance centered."
"Don’t lean too far forward or backward."
"And never rely solely on your arms."
I adjusted my posture exactly as she instructed.
Mother circled around me slowly, examining every detail.
Without hesitation, she gently nudged one foot into a better position.
Then she lightly pushed my shoulder back.
She lowered my elbows slightly.
Each adjustment was small.
Yet every correction made my stance feel noticeably more stable.
Only after she finished did she give a small nod.
"Good."
She stepped back.
"Now..."
"Swing."
I tightened my grip.
Taking a slow breath, I brought the wooden sword down.
Whoosh—
The blade sliced through the air.
Yet the swing felt...
Wrong.
There was no weight behind it.
No stability.
It felt awkward and empty.
Mother immediately pointed out the problem.
"You’re swinging with only your arms."
"That’s why your strike has no power."
She walked over and stood beside me.
Then she gently placed one hand against my shoulder and another against my waist.
"A sword is never swung by the arms alone."
Her tone remained calm.
"Power begins at your feet."
She lightly tapped my front foot.
"It travels through your legs..."
Her hand moved to my waist.
"...your hips..."
Then to my abdomen.
"...your core..."
Finally, she rested a finger lightly against my forearm.
"...and only then reaches your arms."
She looked directly into my eyes.
"Every part of your body must move as one."
"A sword is not wielded with strength alone."
"It is wielded with coordination."
She stepped back once more.
"Again."
I nodded seriously.
This time...
I didn’t focus on my hands.
I planted my feet.
Shifted my weight.
Rotated my hips.
Engaged my entire body.
Then—
I swung again.