Madman’s Retirement

As luck would have it, the merchant seemed eager to buy some of his stock, and Grant obliged. He ended up selling the merchant 10,000 of the aphrodisiac, and 1,000 of the youth potions to the merchant, and a group of adventurers did end up purchasing some of both.

The result? There were a bunch of sweaty and exhausted adventurers and a bunch of younger adventurers popping up. Grant was a bit surprised about how they were so willing to use those outside in the forest, but decided it was either because Leon’s performance attracted a ton of sales, or that they felt safe in such high numbers. He chalked it up to common sense in this world.

Dain and Natalie had managed to get straight to the end of the foundation realm in the last week or so. Of course, this required a bum rush of resources, though thanks to his divine realm, Grant had been able to scrounge some lower level resources for some low level pills, shoved them into the local god-level furnace, and cooked up some pills.

And since they were about to depart from each other in a week or two, Grant decided it was time to start handing out some techniques. They could make the divine realm on their own away from his influence. What they needed currently was someone who could teach them techniques. Any foo could waive a sword, especially with time, but only a master could make a sword dance. Grant had a book or two for that.

Grant decided to interrupt their cultivation session, as he had started leaving them alone within a cultivation and protection array recently. Grant had never been the subtle type, and perhaps subtlety wasn’t needed to get Dain to confess to Natalie. Not that tossing a dozen aphrodisiacs and hints at the man’s face had done anything.

First, he wanted to prove his point, so he had Dain stand before Grant, sword in hand. Natalie stood to the side, watching, honey coated popcorn in hand. Yup, Grant had managed to convince Honey Ursa that yes, popcorn with honey was delicious. So he had begun teaching him how to make popcorn with a honey glaze. He was also in the midst of explaining to the bear how not everything needed overwhelming honey, as hard as that was to convince the bear of. He stated only two words.

“Hit me”

Immediately after this, Dain brought down his blade with as much force as he could bring to bear, mana flowing though his body, as he casted body strengthening.

As strong and as fast as that blow was, it never hit Grant. With a lopsided swerve, he dodged just in the nick of time in a ridiculous manner. Dain followed up with another slash, horizontally, instead of diagonally. Grant tipped over backwards, almost dropping to the ground, but not quite, and the next slash caused him to take another foolish step, causing Dain to grow frustrated as the man walked and tripped like a drunken fool, yet he dodged Dain’s every blow.

With every step and every blow, Dain grew more infuriated, and he even began casting spells, using his new foundation to produce a rain of fireballs and lightning bolts and earth spikes, yet none of the seemed to land.

Dain could only do so much, before being exhausted. Cultivator or not, he could only go at it so long, and so it was Natalie’s turn.

Natalie did not fare much better. Natalie used a bow, and she used it quite well. She was fast and quick on her feet, and unlike the great sword, the bow had greater maneuverability, and more freedom in battle. She put it to use.

Casting wind arrows and illusions, Natalie conjured up multiple images of her, each seemingly shooting their arrows, while invisible arrows flew through the air, each aiming to land a blow on Grant. To an inexperienced eye this would be a rather impressive showing, and would in fact be a good way to approach a foe who was seemingly great at maneuvering.

Sadly she was facing an 1000 year old man, and was thus treated to the sight of a drunken masked man dancing through her rain of arrows the way one dances through the rain; effortlessly and carelessly, for none of the arrows seemed to land.

This wasn’t either of their faults of course. Using the steps of the drunken immortal might have been a bit unfair. The sect he had first joined had been all about elegant and great footwork. His drunken teacher, about the unpredictability of body language, and when one combines the two, you arrive at a rather stupid looking technique, yet unquestionably formidable. Drunken boxing was one of deception, and that was why technique was important. Technique allows one to best utilize their body to best fit their style of combat, and to adapt better reactions and better flow of qi. A technique allows for far better reaction and pre planning rather than merely dancing to the opponent’s rhythm. Control is one of the greatest points in battle after all.

After the two were exhausted from trying to hit him, Grant grew a chair out of the ground to sit on, and feeling bad for the two, got Honey Ursa to hold them and act as just the most comfy couch. After burning through qi and mana for an hour or two, even the hug of a bear felt like the bed of Hypnos.

“You’re not bad fighters. Good reaction time, and you even knew how to push mana and qi into certain points of your body to improve your power.” Began Grant, making sure to compliment their efforts, “however, you weren’t ever going to land a blow on me.” Taking out Grata Minn, Dain and Natalie came face to face with what seemed to be a plain sword. A silver sword, indistinguishable in it’s nature, were it not for it’s presence, and that it was only silver. There were no other colors. Despite its simplicity, it felt alive. SO alive in fact… it started moving.

The sword rippled in Grant’s hand, like the ripples on a lake, and the sword seemingly shook in joy before calming down. Grant holding the sword, began circulating, focusing the energy as he took stance.

The stance seemed simple, casual, and were it not for the fact he had been told to pay attention, would have assumed it to be a simple stance. The steps he took afterwards, and change in stance were equally simple. Nothing really stood out. Only with effort could Dain see it. However, Natalie could see it clearly. The tempo.

1,2,3, and 1,2,3, 1,2,3,4…

Occasionally he’d change rhythm and at first Dain couldn’t see it metaphorically. This was a tempo, sure, but what was the point? When it began speeding up however, Dain finally understood. It had begun going past the point that none of them could see, the man was a living blur. And yet…

1,2,3, and 1,2,3, 1,2,3,4…

There was tempo. Even as Grant sped up, the tempo remained the same.

…

“When you fight, you merely react. And while your instincts and reaction speeds are good, technique will improve your speed in battle. Technique allows one to refine your attack patterns, and pattern begets tempo, which in turn begets increased speed. Reaction can only get you so far, but the ability to change attack patterns and think clearly will help you in battle.”

“So what’s with all the books?” Asked Natalie impatiently. She was already getting handsy.

They were back in the divine realm, where Grant had brought them before a immense shelf, upon which lines of books were present. The books came in many forms, from scrolls of sheepskin, to sheets of papyrus, to paper books, and even books of… questionable items. Dain and Natalie probably noticed the books made of human skin but chose not to note them.

“You’re here to pick out a technique.” With a wave of his hand the bookshelf rearranged itself, with some books melting into the bookshelf. Soon, as the bookshelf split into two, groaning as it split, with each shelf presenting itself to one of the kids respectively. “Well? What are you waiting for?”