"Whew..."
Next to the hourglass were two glass tubes of different sizes. The larger tube had twelve markings — each time the hourglass flipped, the red liquid inside the tube would rise one notch, representing one hour. When the liquid rose to the twelfth marking, it would drop back to the bottom and begin rising notch by notch again. The smaller glass tube had only six markings, representing the sixty minutes within one hour.
This hourglass timing device hanging above the great hall had been jointly purchased by the faculty and students of the former Yellow Ribbon Academy as a birthday gift for Sir Aristburg on his sixtieth birthday. The knight had ordered it installed above the great hall as a memento, and now
Every time Lorist saw this hourglass device, he couldn't help but find it amusing. This thing could be considered a type of clock, couldn't it? According to Chinese customs, gifting a clock to an elder for their birthday was quite unlucky, since the word for "clock" sounded the same as "attending a funeral." Sure enough, not even half a year after receiving this gift, the knight had keeled over from a sudden heart attack. Maybe I should give Instructor Levins an hourglass when his birthday comes around, he thought.
Beside him,
Lorist nodded, snapping out of his idle musings. "It's almost four o'clock. Let's all take a break. In half an hour, every instructor and assistant should come back for a meeting to discuss the class arrangements. Instructor Anfia, take a few people and organize the student roster — compile a separate list for each class. Like last time, leave blank spaces after the names for later annotations."
Instructor Anfia nodded, took the roster, and called over two female instructor assistants to begin copying.
"Hey,
Just as Lorist was holding his teacup and chatting with a few instructors about gossip, a middle-aged man in an elaborate robe rushed into the great hall. He approached Lorist and the others with great courtesy and asked, "Excuse me, is this the instructor team for the Combat Force Awakening Class?"
Instructor Hughes replied, "Yes. What can we do for you?"
The middle-aged man turned and walked to the great hall entrance, calling outside, "Young master, this is the place. You may get off the carriage."
What was going on? Lorist and the instructors watched the entrance. Before long, the middle-aged man returned, followed by an enormous fat man. This man was beyond merely fat — he was truly obese. His arms were as thick as Lorist's thighs. Walking was a tremendous effort, each step accompanied by three gasps for air. Watching him was enough to make everyone's heart clench, fearing he might drop dead at any moment.
The middle-aged man came back to Instructor Hughes and produced an enrollment certificate from inside his robe. "I apologize, but our young master is also a new student in the Combat Force Awakening Class. He's late due to his physical condition. Please forgive us."
Hmm, that couldn't be right. There were supposed to be exactly 879 new students in the Combat Force Awakening Class, all of whom had been examined and assigned to their classes. Where had this extra one come from? Besides, given the fat man's physique, how could he possibly have passed the entrance examination?
Instructor Hughes took the enrollment certificate, glanced at it, and handed it to Lorist with a wry smile. Lorist took it and looked — damn, this wasn't an enrollment certificate at all. It was a handwritten letter from that old devil Levins. The letter was addressed to him, getting straight to the point about the fat man. The old devil explained that the fat man was named Dosedhouse, the sole heir of the Peterson Trading Company, one of the seven members of the Council — the supreme governing body of the Forde Commercial Alliance — and was eighteen years old this year. His father, the current chairman of the Peterson Trading Company, was also a Dawn Academy alumnus. The Peterson family had always been a major patron of Dawn Academy, with annual sponsorship of ten thousand Gold Forde.
Because Chairman Peterson had had his son late in life, he had doted on the boy excessively. As a result, the child had grown up having everything handed to him, and before anyone realized it, he had been overfed into an enormous fat man. Now Chairman Peterson had finally realized the gravity of the situation upon seeing his son transformed into a great ball of flesh. If this continued, what would become of the Peterson family once he grew old and passed away? With a son like this, how could he inherit the family business and manage the trading company?
Unfortunately, Chairman Peterson's regret came too late. He tried to put his son on a diet, ordering the household steward to reduce the boy's meals from five a day to three, cutting out afternoon tea and late-night snacks. The remaining three meals were also to be halved in portion, with seven or eight dishes being quite sufficient. The result? Before a single day had passed, his son threw a massive tantrum. The family matriarch, along with the first and second wives, all came out to collectively denounce Chairman Peterson, and while they were at it, they added another dozen dishes for the boy.
Defeated in this first attempt, Chairman Peterson tried another approach. He spent a large sum to hire a Great Swordmaster, hoping to commission him to awaken the boy's Combat Force. Chairman Peterson believed that once his son's Combat Force awakened, the subsequent cultivation training would naturally shed the excess fat. It was a fine thought, but the Great Swordmaster stayed for over a month before helplessly informing Chairman Peterson that given his son's physical condition, it was absolutely impossible to awaken Combat Force. To put it bluntly, the boy's veins didn't carry blood — they carried lard. Finally, the Great Swordmaster warned that if the boy continued to overeat and grow fatter, he wouldn't last another three years.
What was to be done? Chairman Peterson had worried himself grey-haired over his precious son. It was right around this time that he heard of Lorist's reputation as the Golden Combat Force Instructor and learned that Lorist had been appointed Chief Instructor of the new semester's Combat Force Awakening Class at Dawn Academy. His eyes lit up — it was truly a case of being lost only to stumble upon a path forward. Chairman Peterson was overjoyed. He rushed to Dawn Academy to find Levins and managed to obtain this handwritten enrollment letter.
Levins first described the fat man's situation, then asked Lorist to do his utmost to help Chairman Peterson solve his heartfelt worry. For the sake of the good relationship between the Peterson family and Dawn Academy, and for the annual sponsorship of fifteen thousand Gold Forde — because of his son's enrollment, Chairman Peterson was willing to increase his annual sponsorship by an additional five thousand gold coins — Levins instructed Lorist to overcome any difficulties, or even create them if necessary, to do everything possible to help Chairman Peterson. Finally, Levins promised that if Chairman Peterson's wish was fulfilled, the academy would not hesitate to give the instructor team a generous bonus of no less than one thousand Gold Forde.
Damn it, that old devil was always creating trouble for him. He was leading a Combat Force Awakening Class, not a weight loss camp. This fat man couldn't possibly awaken his Combat Force without first shedding that massive layer of fat. But this situation couldn't really be blamed on the old devil either — he had no choice. After all, the Peterson family's annual sponsorship wasn't for nothing, and when the family had a problem that Dawn Academy could help with, stepping up was only natural.
Lorist muttered to himself as he tucked away the letter, then said to the middle-aged man, "Have him come over and place his hand here. I'll examine his body."
The fat man shuffled over step by step, rolled up his sleeve as Lorist instructed, and placed his arm on the leather pillow. Good lord, that wasn't a hand — it was clearly a pig's trotter, white and plump, slick with oil. With a sigh, Lorist extended three fingers and placed them on the fat man's pulse.
Hmm? Where was the pulse? Lorist pressed lightly — nothing. Pressed harder — still nothing. Could it be that there was simply too much fat? Lorist frowned, took aim, and pressed down hard. This time, he finally felt the faint throb of a pulse.
After a long moment, Lorist withdrew his hand and shook his head with a heavy sigh. The middle-aged man beside him asked nervously, "Instructor, what's wrong with our young master?"
Lorist's face was grim. After thinking for a long while, he asked the middle-aged man, "Are you the steward?"
"Ah, yes. I'm the Peterson family's second steward, assigned specifically to serve the young master," the middle-aged man nodded.
"This isn't something you can decide. You'd better bring whoever can make decisions. Your young master's problem is that he needs to lose weight first before his Combat Force can be awakened. His current physical condition is already very poor. If he doesn't awaken his Combat Force and continues to grow fatter like this, he'll only have a few more years to live." Lorist looked at the fat man as he spoke, but the fat man seemed utterly unmoved, wearing an expression of complete indifference — as if Lorist were merely being alarmist, exaggerating the severity just to scare him.
The middle-aged man, however, was genuinely alarmed, since Lorist was the second person to say such things. The Great Swordmaster had been the first. The problem was that the Great Swordmaster's words had been kept confidential within the family and never leaked outside. That two people had independently arrived at the same conclusion was proof enough of how serious this truly was. "The family head is having tea with your esteemed principal right now. I'll go fetch him immediately. Please wait a moment."
The middle-aged man darted out of the great hall at a run, and the sound of carriage wheels receded into the distance.
Before long, Chairman Peterson appeared before Lorist, his hawk-like gaze fixed intently on him: "You're
Lorist drew a sharp breath. He hadn't expected that the head of the Peterson family, which controlled one of the Forde Commercial Alliance's seven great trading companies, was himself a Golden-rank Combat Force master. Although the old man before him dressed plainly and had a kindly face — looking no different from those old men who chatted and played chess on the street corners — and wore no Combat Force badge on his chest, Lorist could sense a faint yet oppressive aura radiating around his body. It was a feeling Lorist had only experienced once before, during his duel with Instructor Kruder at the academy before departing for the Ruins Archipelago.
Lorist met his gaze levelly, his tone even: "Good afternoon, Chairman Peterson. I'm Instructor Locke. I've called you here to discuss your son's enrollment. Given your own level, you naturally understand your son's physical condition. Whether for the sake of his health or for awakening his Combat Force, your son must lose weight first, and there's no time to delay. Otherwise, his life will be gravely threatened. What I want to ask is — what does the chairman think about his son losing weight? Shall you take him home to lose weight before enrolling, or shall he lose weight directly here at the academy and then awaken his Combat Force?"
Chairman Peterson was taken aback by Lorist's words, then asked with agitation: "You have a way to make my son lose weight? And awaken his Combat Force too?"
"There is a way, though your son will have to endure some hardship, and it will take a considerable amount of time — at least half a year." Lorist nodded.
"Ah..." Chairman Peterson thought to himself: is this kid trying to fool me? Last time I consulted the most famous apothecary in
"What do you mean by 'endure hardship'? Is there any danger to his life?" Chairman Peterson asked.
"Controlled diet, mandatory physical training — these things are perfectly ordinary for others, but for your son, they would be genuine suffering. Moreover, to ensure your son completes his daily training regimen, it may be necessary to employ some less-than-polite methods that will be quite terrifying for him. A little bleeding and a few minor wounds are unavoidable, but I can guarantee there will be absolutely no danger to his life," Lorist said.
"If Chairman Peterson is willing to trust us, I'd ask that you first sign a guarantee, pledging that during your son's time at our academy, no family members shall interfere with his life and training. You may send people to observe, but they shall have no right to voice criticism or protests. If this is violated, you shall bear all consequences, this instructor team shall bear no responsibility whatsoever, and your son will be immediately sent home." Lorist raised the stakes.
"This..." Chairman Peterson hesitated. After all, this was his own flesh and blood. From the day the boy was born, the entire family had treasured him — afraid he'd melt if held in their mouths, afraid he'd drop if held in their hands. He had grown this old without ever enduring a moment of hardship — otherwise, he wouldn't have grown so fat. A vague feeling gnawed at Chairman Peterson: if he agreed to Lorist's demands, his precious son would likely suffer terribly.
"It seems Chairman Peterson's love for his son runs too deep. Perhaps you should take your son home first. There's no rush — he can enroll for Combat Force enlightenment once he's successfully lost weight." Lorist relaxed slightly. This would be the best option — it would save everyone the trouble.
"No. I'm entrusting him to you. I hope Instructor Locke won't let me down." Chairman Peterson suddenly made his final decision.
"Sir, won't you reconsider?" Lorist was rather disappointed.
"No need. This is how it will be." Chairman Peterson waved his hand with decisive finality.
"Very well then. Chairman, please come over here to write and sign the guarantee. We should also complete your son's enrollment paperwork. Given your son's special circumstances, some additional fees will need to be paid." Lorist was resigned. Starting today, he had acquired yet another burden.
"I'll just sign the guarantee. Everything else can be handled by him. Whatever you need, go to him." Chairman Peterson pointed at the middle-aged man standing at attention nearby, then beckoned him over. "Bill, starting today, you'll stay here. Whatever Instructor Locke and his team need, you're to provide it all. Furthermore, you are only to watch over the young master — without Instructor Locke's permission, you are not to have any contact with the young master. Understood?"
"Yes, sir. Understood." The middle-aged man bowed respectfully.
After signing the guarantee, Chairman Peterson let out a sigh: "Instructor Locke, my precious son has never left home since birth, never endured a moment of hardship. Now I'm placing him in your care. I hope that during training, you won't be too harsh on him. It would be best to let him gradually adjust..."
Lorist was silent for a moment, then replied: "Sometimes, parents' excessive doting on their children does more harm than good..."
Chairman Peterson...
After a long pause, Chairman Peterson finally spoke: "Since I've agreed to entrust him to you, I should trust you and stop worrying. If Instructor Locke, you and your team can truly help him lose weight and awaken his Combat Force within half a year, I'll reward you with one thousand Gold Forde."
"Oh..." The surrounding instructors let out sounds of surprise.
Lorist shook his head: "I can't guarantee anything. For now, we can only have your son lose weight first and then assess the situation..."
"Two thousand!"
Lorist could feel the breathing of all the instructors and assistants around and behind him growing noticeably heavier...
"Chairman Peterson, please trust our professional ethics. Since we've accepted your son, we will certainly teach him properly and help him lose weight and train..."
"As long as my son awakens his Combat Force, I'll give you a reward of three thousand Gold Forde!" Chairman Peterson cut Lorist off, determined to achieve his goal no matter what.
Lorist could sense that every instructor and assistant around and behind him was trembling — even Instructor Hughes and Instructor Anfia. Only Instructor Marlin seemed comparatively calm.
"Alright, I'll do my best. Please rest assured, Chairman." Lorist lowered his head.
---
Lorist gathered all the instructors and assistants for a meeting.
"Class One, with a total of 352 new students. These students are physically fine — perfectly healthy with vigorous vitality. Under normal teaching methods supplemented by a month of physical training, they should be able to awaken their Combat Force. Instructor Marlin, you've trained recruits in the city garrison — this kind of large-scale group training should be familiar territory for you. So I'm entrusting Class One to you. Choose four instructors and four assistants to help. Any issues?"
"No issues, Chief Instructor Locke," Instructor Marlin replied with a smile.
"Class Two, with 175 new students. They're physically fine but still in their growth phase and haven't yet reached the point of vigorous vitality. The members of this class will need a period of observation, during which we'll enhance the nutritional content of their diet and use physical training to promote nutrient absorption and strengthen their constitutions. So I need a patient instructor to take charge of this class. I estimate it will be three to four months before they're ready for Combat Force enlightenment. Who here would be suitable for this class?" Lorist asked.
Soon, a Silver Instructor named Soheim was nominated by the group. He would take two instructors and two assistants to handle Class Two's teaching and training.
Lorist looked at the roster in his hand: "Class Three, with 236 commoner students. Their problem is malnutrition. Instructor Yuri, you have experience from last time and know what to do. I'm entrusting this class to you."
Yuri nodded. He would also select two instructors and two assistants to take charge of Class Three.
"Class Four will be handled by Instructor Hughes, with Instructor Anfia assisting. Does that work?" Lorist looked at the two instructors, and both nodded.
"Instructor Anfia, your job will be coordinating with the alchemy laboratory. Those restorative nutritional potions must be administered to the students every single day. No matter how awful they taste, they have to drink them all. Not a single student can be missed," Lorist instructed.
"Understood, Chief Instructor Locke. I'll make sure the students drink them in person every day. I won't let them try to weasel out of taking the medicine," Instructor Anfia assured him.
"The last class — one student. His current condition is nutritional excess, extreme obesity. He must lose two-thirds of his body weight before he can undergo Combat Force enlightenment like a normal student. This student will be handled by me along with the remaining instructors and assistants. Alright, everyone will be busy starting tomorrow. That concludes today's meeting. The group instructors for each class may discuss and coordinate amongst yourselves."
Lorist beckoned to the middle-aged man nearby: "Steward Bill, could you come here for a moment? I have a small matter to trouble you with..."