Chapter 35: Massive Purchase
Kaelor flipped through the brittle pages of the worn book, his brows knitting tighter with each turn. Crude illustrations of sword swings filled the parchment, vertical slashes, diagonal cuts, and horizontal strokes so basic that even a militia recruit would scoff at them.
Every page seemed to echo simplicity, too much simplicity.
His lips thinned as he read on.
Accompanying these drawings were long, winding passages filled with the writer’s philosophical ramblings. The sword, it claimed, was not the true weapon. "The heart is the blade. The soul, its edge." Page after page, the writer preached about will, intent, and purpose, delving more into why one fought rather than how.
Compared to what Kaelor remembered from the previous Kaelor’s memories, training drills, aura control, the techniques of true Swordmasters, this read like the musings of a wandering monk. No forms, no mana manipulation, no battle techniques or advanced footwork. Just the mindless repetition of basics and some idealistic nonsense about channeling one’s heart.
Kaelor’s face darkened as he neared the end, disappointment tightening his jaw. But then, he turned the final page.
And everything stopped.
His pupils dilated. The ink was faded, but he could read it perfectly.
Mandarin.
Words not from this world, but from Earth.
His heart stuttered as he read the line aloud in his mind: