The two-hour group training session concluded, transitioning into individual practice time.
Many recruits rushed over to Lumine, eager to seek guidance in swordsmanship, hoping to improve as quickly as Victor Wang had. Victor Wang also wanted to learn more of Lumine's foreign sword style, but seeing the crowd, he didn't compete for her attention. Since he already knew her, there would be plenty of chances in the future to learn.
The situation with Noelle was quite similar. A whole group of recruits surrounded the beautiful maid instructor, all hoping to glean more technique. Seeing the crowd still full of questions, Noelle simply led them into continued drills.
Only then did Victor Wang notice the massive iron bar she pulled out—crafted from refined steel. Though called a claymore, it was more akin to a warhammer in size and weight.
Wagner had forged many weapons for Noelle in the past. After those were all destroyed, he staked his reputation on crafting her a heavy and durable greatsword—likely this very one.
Victor Wang recalled that Yandere Expression Noelle reaction image and shivered internally.
Yandere types are better left in fiction. They have no place in real life.
Sunlight reflected off her "maid armor," dazzling enough to make one mistake her for a descending goddess. Its owner, a silver-haired girl, earnestly explained swordsmanship to the recruits, her greatsword—equal to her own height—twisting and sweeping around her with grace.
Her swordsmanship was already comparable to the instructors' dual-handed techniques.
Sword skills, Sword Aura, a Vision, proper etiquette—what more did Noelle lack?
Nothing, really. And yet, she failed every single selection round. Perhaps it wasn't about strength. Maybe she just... wasn't the right fit.
Lost in such aimless thoughts, Victor Wang suddenly noticed two new recruits who had chosen claymores weren't focusing at all on Noelle's training. Instead, they kept tilting their heads, stealing glances.
Victor Wang quietly moved closer, following their gaze—and at certain angles, caught faint glimpses of black stockings.
Driven by some unexplainable instinct, he was torn. In-game, he watched such things daily—and he still liked looking now—but watching others ogle made him... uncomfortable.
He realized he'd become a hypocrite.
Cursing himself inwardly, Victor Wang made a decision. So, what if I'm a hypocrite? Still not allowed to look!
"Hey! What are you two doing?"
The two were startled. Though it wasn't an instructor who caught them, they were still flustered, immediately abandoning their attempts to peek.
Fortunately, Noelle's skirt was long, and all they had glimpsed was a sliver above the leg armor.
Victor Wang turned his gaze toward Rosaria.
She had found herself a chair from who-knows-where, crossed one leg over the other, and sat lounging with a smoking pipe in hand.
Perhaps out of a shred of respect for the training ground, the pipe wasn't lit. But she didn't want to stash it away either, rhythmically tapping the armrest with it.
When someone approached with questions, she answered seriously. Otherwise, she did nothing extra—just sat there sunbathing and tapping the pipe.
Victor Wang composed himself and began fixing the flaws in his sword techniques.
The chief instructor had once said he wouldn't point out everyone's flaws directly. He hoped they'd discover them on their own.
The ability to identify one's own mistakes is a skill in itself. They had only three months on the training ground, but swordsmanship was a lifetime pursuit. Without self-correction, who would point out mistakes in the years to come?
This wasn't to discredit Lumine. Victor Wang just remembered—in a little over a month, the Rite of Descension in Liyue would begin.
"Ha!"
Without using elemental power, Victor Wang sliced through three wooden logs lined up side by side with one swing.
The next day, Grand Master Jean arrived for special training.
Though she only had the morning, she not only taught Favonius Bladework but also gave an in-depth session on the Gale Blade to the six Vision holders.
In the afternoon, after Jean left, Victor Wang went to bid farewell to the chief instructor.
He could have stayed a bit longer to train, but starting tomorrow, all new recruits would undergo a one-month outdoor combat training. They'd travel across several locations—mainly to battle endless Hilichurls.
Victor Wang didn't intend to go.
During that period, the training ground's cafeteria would be closed, making it no different from any random field outside the city.
"Ready to leave?"
"Yeah."
"Then let's see how much you've improved."
Without asking for consent, the instructor had already drawn his sword.
Victor Wang had no choice but to draw his own.
He stood alert, mind simulating countless scenarios.
Facing the chief instructor, Victor Wang had the illusion that no matter how he attacked, there were no openings.
And in fact, that was the case. While his attacks were no longer flashy or pointless like before, every strike was still parried with ease.
Having all attacks countered didn't always mean the opponent was stronger—but when they were deflected so effortlessly, the gap was undeniable.
"Use your full strength."
"Then you'd better brace yourself!"
Several wind blades materialized midair, spiraling toward the chief instructor from tricky angles. Though wind blades were less destructive than Sword Aura, their flexibility far surpassed it.
The instructor's sword was so fast it left afterimages, either slicing the wind blades apart with Sword Aura or deflecting them with the blade's flat.
Victor Wang didn't stay idle—his left hand summoned Palm Vortex, pulling the instructor forward.
While resisting the pull and fending off the blades, the instructor saw Victor's left hand suddenly release and his right hand unleash a Gale Blade to push outward.
Caught between his own momentum and the Gale Blade, the instructor staggered back several steps.
The final wind blade struck his shoulder—but didn't break through.
"Good! Got anything else?"
Victor Wang began condensing elemental force around himself, enveloping his body in a glowing cyan aura. Then he expended that protective energy to create clones.
While the clones couldn't move like real people, they could shift position. Four glowing wind-element doppelgängers rushed out.
Now five identical Victor Wangs encircled the instructor.
One clone twisted first, morphing into a massive wind blade the height of a man, and shot toward the instructor.
Aside from elemental countering, protective elemental shields relied purely on comparing the users' energy reserves. A wind blade of such density would either have to be dodged or blocked with even greater elemental force.
If dodged, the attacker would lose the advantage. Victor Wang's goal was to make it undodgeable through sheer force.
Even split in two, the blade held massive impact. The instructor chose to dodge with agility.
In a blink, two more clones turned into wind blades, crossing toward him from opposite directions.
Wind gathered at the instructor's feet as he leapt into the air.
Flight—an Anemo-exclusive trait.
Long-term flight drained energy fast, but short bursts were easy.
Victor Wang had deliberately not commanded all clones to attack simultaneously to avoid leaving a blind spot.
The final clone's wind blade shot upward but was shattered mid-air by the instructor's Wind Roar Fist.
Landing safely, the last figure still glowing green was, of course, the real Victor Wang.
Most people would assume that.
Then, the energy around Victor Wang's body twisted into another wind blade, slashing horizontally toward the now-grounded instructor, with Victor Wang following close behind.
The instructor performed a full mid-air split to evade the slash while parrying Victor's sword.
Such a tall and burly man... doing an aerial split... Victor Wang nearly burst out laughing.
But then he remembered—he still couldn't do the splits himself. What if he needed to dodge an attack like this someday?
Not so funny anymore.
Both sides sheathed their swords.
The instructor gave a mixed evaluation: "That move was wasteful—but creative."
Switch the order of those two phrases, and it becomes: "That move was creative—but wasteful."
In this bout, the chief instructor didn't use much elemental force—but he did use it. He also got hit. Compared to before, Victor Wang had definitely made progress.
But it only made him more keenly aware of their gap: Unless he had enough elemental energy to shatter ten meters of stone—or make the waterfall south of Springvale flow backward—he could never beat the instructor with power alone.
A question spilled from his lips: "Who's stronger—you or Grand Master Jean?"
"We dueled a long time ago. She could beat five of me."
Victor Wang gave a helpless smile. He already knew he was weak—but not this weak.
All the pride and hidden arrogance that came with receiving elemental power had been worn away on this training ground.
The instructor gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "Don't be discouraged. You've come a long way in a short time. Go out and see more techniques and combat styles. You'll surpass me in a few years."
"I'll take that as a blessing."
"Martial skill isn't like elemental power. It's like sailing against the current—stop rowing, and you drift back. Train hard. Don't slack off."
"Yes sir!"