The lesson became a frantic blur after the elder’s ominous proclamation. Fischer threw out new concepts, patterns, and theories so fast that Kevin had to push his writing speed to keep up.

  Yet Fischer never pushed so fast that she overwhelmed him. It was as if she’d calculated his ability to keep up and then kept him at that threshold for the next hour.

  She sped up even further for the second hour, querying him with ruthless intent on everything they’d covered so far. A single mistake was too many for the elder, and she pushed him until Kevin had accurate notes on everything they’d covered.

  “Time’s up,” Fischer said, at last, her voice chipper. Where Kevin felt ready to collapse after the exhausting two hours, the elder looked no more tired than when they’d started. If anything, she seemed energized by the rapid lesson.

  “I expect to see the same level of quality you showed with the previous set in each of the new formations. You may charge them before the next lesson; you’ve shown the minimal level of proficiency required for that.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Kevin struggled to avoid groaning as he responded. The last three had been tough enough; the six new formations she’d covered would be a nightmare. However, it was a nightmare he’d inflicted on himself, so he couldn’t complain too much.

  “Two questions, if you don’t mind,” he continued, catching the elder as she turned for the door. “First, is there some kind of calligraphy technique that can help finish flags faster?”

  “I was wondering how long you’d suffer before asking,” Fischer chuckled, shaking her head. “Yes, there are multiple calligraphy styles designed for speed writing. Many are unsuitable for our work with formations, while a few are specialized for our needs.”

  “Most new students find the Heavenly Brush style to be suitable. You can purchase a copy from the library for fifteen merit,” the elder said, pausing and giving Kevin a considering look. “However,” she continued slowly, “I have recommended the Twisted Script style to a few students before.”

  Fischer stared for another moment, glanced at the still-functioning formation in the middle of the room, then gave a firm nod and tossed something over.

  Kevin caught the object on reflex. It was a plain wooden rectangle, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. A few characters were visible on the sides, none of which he recognized.

  “Show that to a librarian, and they’ll get you a copy,” Fischer said, her foot tapping on the ground.

  “Thanks, Ma’am,” Kevin responded with a bow. If she only recommended the style to some students, that could be a good sign that he’d impressed her. At least, he hoped that was the reason.

  Realizing she was waiting for his second question, he hurried to continue. “I also wanted to ask about the formations for FORM-115. Should I try and make them yet?”

  Fischer pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side. “Perhaps… Those formations require concepts we haven’t covered yet, so they may be beyond you. However, a clever student might discern the needed fundamentals from the patterns.”

  “You may attempt them if you wish. However, don’t charge any of those three without supervision. Either way, we will cover the underlying concepts in a few more lessons.”

  “Right,” Kevin responded, a moment too late. Fischer was already gone, having vanished the second she finished speaking.

  In a way, it was a relief to hear she didn’t expect him to jump into doing the combat formations; he had more than enough work to do with the six new ones from this class. On the other hand, doing even a decent job at them might be another path to impressing her.

  If a ‘clever student’ could discern how to make them, then doing so would show him to be one. Failure, however, might have the opposite impact. It was a tricky decision but one he could put off for later.

  For now, he had two hours until his next class, most of which he’d need to reorganize the pile of notes he’d just taken. There was so much that he’d never learn it all if he didn’t strike while the memories were still fresh.

  Revising his notes took so long that Kevin didn’t make it to the library before his next class. Despite its difficulty, the dense mass of information Fischer had thrown at him was fascinating enough to draw his full attention.

  By the time he’d finished, Kevin was almost late for MAR-101 and had to sprint to the martial building.

  The first Introduction to Martial Arts lesson had been held outside in one of the martial courtyards. However, that had been an outlier designed to find a specialized style for each of them.

  This time, it was held in a large lecture theater on the second floor of the Martial Building. The room was reminiscent of those Kevin had seen in college back on Earth, including the Qi-based illusion projector.

  “Welcome back to MAR-101,” Elder Johnson called out from the stage at the front of the room. The grizzled man stood with arms crossed behind his back as he stared intensely at the gathered disciples.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “After our first lesson, each of you was assigned a martial arts style you will practice for the duration of this class. That is the responsibility of your respective tutors, and I will not be bringing it up again.”

  Turning, Johnson gestured to thin air. A moment later, a massive grid of glowing squares appeared before him, filling half the stage. “From now on, we will only discuss theoretical aspects of personal combat.”

  Two massive, stylized cultivators formed above the grid as he spoke, one red, one blue, standing six squares apart. “Consider this situation: two body-realm cultivators are engaged in a duel. Both are of equivalent skill and physical ability. Which one will win?”

  Johnson paused, looking around the room as if waiting for a response. After a few moments, a voice shouted. “The one who’s most prepared.”

  “A decent answer,” Johnson nodded, his face remaining stern. “However, I said they both had the same level of skill. What preparation are we talking about here?”

  There was a longer pause after that as the class went silent. Kevin was no different. It sounded like a trick question; if they were both as skilled as the other, then hadn’t they prepared the same amount?

  Eventually, someone else shouted from across the room. “The one who planned the best.”

  “Correct!” Johnson bellowed, turning and pointing toward the other side of the room. “Real fights are rapid, frantic things decided in fractions of a second. Learning the moves to your style is one thing, but knowing when to use them is quite a different beast.”

  “You can try to plan in the heat of combat,” he continued, pacing across the stage. “Or rely on your reaction speed and instincts to counter whatever your opponent tries. However, that leaves you open to someone who’s planned ahead.”

  Behind Johnson, the two illusionary figures met in a flurry of blows. For a few moments, they were even. Then, the red figure gained the advantage, sending the blue cultivator back-peddling across multiple squares.

  “This is the effect of such planning,” Johnson continued, spinning to point at the simulated fight. “At the moment, it seems clear that one cultivator is overpowering the other. However, remember that I said they were equal in ability. If so, why would one be retreating so soon?”

  The fight came to a head as the elder finished talking. The two figures were now reaching the edge of the grid, with the retreating blue cultivator stumbling back to the boundary.

  As if sensing weakness, the red cultivator rushed in for a finishing blow aimed straight at his unbalanced opponent’s face. Just when it looked like the fight would be over, the blue figure lunged forward.

  Ducking the heavy punch, the blue cultivator slammed into the red’s chest and swept out their legs. Both figures tumbled forward, landing on the ground with the blue cultivator on top.

  The roles were reversed in an instant, with the former defender laying into their near helpless opponent with heavy blows.

  “This is one form of preparation,” Johnson said, pointing at the image as it froze mid-strike. “Our blue cultivator here had an overall plan for handling the fight, one they came up with long before it began.”

  “Faking weakness, they gave ground, waiting for an opening. When the opponent gave them one, they struck with a move designed to reverse the entire momentum of the fight.”

  “Designing strategies to direct entire fights like this is one way of planning, but it is not the only way,” Johnson continued, holding up a finger. “While it is effective when pulled off, keeping such a high-level plan in mind throughout a fight can be difficult to achieve.”

  “So, let’s see how our red cultivator could have prepared his own simpler plan to aim for victory.”

  The image reset at the elder’s words, the last move again playing out in front of the assembled disciples. This time, it moved in slow motion, showing every detail of the red cultivator’s wind-up in precise detail.

  “Consider that our red cultivator might have known he was impulsive and likely to push ahead,” Johnson continued, gesturing at the image. “He isn’t the kind who can keep some complicated plan in his head, but that doesn’t mean there is no preparation he can do.”

  “Knowing he’s likely to be countered at some point, our red friend has prepared multiple contingencies for that occurrence.”

  The image had moved on as Johnson spoke, showing the start of the last punch a second time.

  “He’s learned the signs to look for: lowered weight, tensing in the legs, and hands out of position to block,” Johnson continued, listing the minute changes in the blue figure. Now that he pointed them out, what he was talking about was obvious.

  “This is a situation our cultivator has planned for. Not just this one counter but every possible response to his finishing move. He’s practiced each hundreds of times, and when the moment arrives, he can respond with smooth efficiency.”

  The fight continued in slow motion, moving through the blue cultivator’s counter. However, instead of being taken down, the red cultivator caught his opponent’s head with a rising knee strike halfway through the counter.

  It was a devastating strike. The blue cultivator's charge sent him straight into the blow.

  “I’m sure you can see the importance of what I’m saying,” Johnson returned to pacing as he spoke. Behind him, the image reset again, this time showing the blue cultivator slipping past the rising knee and tackling his opponent’s single supporting leg.

  The elder fell silent as the images kept coming faster and faster. The red cultivator spun in response to the blue’s dodge, grabbing their shoulder and tossing them across the field before they could tackle.

  Another reset occurred. This time, the blue cultivator threw their weight backward when their shoulder was grabbed, resisting the throw as they swept their opponent’s leg. In a third reset, the red cultivator dived forward at the sweep, slamming the blue into the ground.

  On and on it went: a single moment of a fight going a hundred different ways. “See how much a single fight can change based on who has planned ahead,” Johnson’s voice rose over the silence. “When a fight can go either way based on skill, often it’s the one who’s planned the furthest who does.”

  “Whether you’re the kind of fighter who can plan out an entire battle in your head or the kind who focuses on a few key moments, I assure you that this class will take you to the next level.”

  “Now, get out your writing implements. We have a lot to cover, and I won’t be repeating myself.”

  The full MAR-101 class left Kevin with another massive pile of notes, most of which he didn’t even have time to review before his next class. He only had an hour before TEC-109. Enough time to have lunch and make it to the other building, but not much else.

  Li Yen went no easier than her fellow teachers in Introduction to Qi Shielding, though Kevin at least had the advantage of having read ahead in the associated book for that class. A basis of knowledge helped, but he still had a third pile of notes by the time the class ended.

  All his classes were kicking into high gear now they’d entered the second week, and he spent most of the evening revising the mountain of work he’d received. Digging through all his notes took so long that he had to rush to practice his lobbing and Sinking Sands footwork before nightfall.

  Checking out Fischer’s recommended calligraphy style would have to wait for Tuesday.