Butler Bill's diary: Alliance Calendar 167, February 19th, Sunny. This afternoon I accompanied the young master to enroll at
Sure enough, after the meeting, that Instructor Locke told me to buy a cartload of lettuce, carrots, and celery, then took the young master away. When I returned with the things, Instructor Locke led me to a bluestone house and told me to dump everything on the floor. I felt this place seemed like a quiet room for sword practice, and then I saw the young master huddled in a corner crying. I couldn't speak to him or ask what happened, so I asked Instructor Locke what the young master was doing here.
That Instructor Locke laughed ferociously and said this would be the young master's residence from now on. Good heavens, this place has no bed, no couch, not even a stove—how is the young master supposed to sleep?
That Locke was unconcerned. He said that with a straw mat and a blanket on the floor, that would be enough; there was no need for a stove. If the young master felt cold, he could get up and exercise at night, break a sweat, and wouldn't be cold. As for staying here, it was mainly because this stone house was soundproof, so no matter how much the young master made a fuss, it wouldn't affect the other students' sleep.
I asked him what the young master would eat at night. He pointed to the vegetables I had bought on the floor and said that the young master would be eating only those things for the next three days. I was greatly shocked. Was he treating the young master like a rabbit? I very tactfully told him that the young master didn't like vegetables, especially these uncooked ones. But he laughed happily and patted my shoulder, saying it didn't matter—when a person is desperate with hunger, they would even gnaw on a corpse, let alone these vegetables.
This Instructor Locke is truly disgusting, cold-blooded, hard-hearted—simply a demon. The young master has fallen into his hands. Boohoo, the young master is so pitiful. I must record all of this and report it to the master. He must not be let off lightly.
Butler Bill's diary: Alliance Calendar 167, February 20th, Sunny. Last night the young master wailed for most of the night, and no one paid him any attention. I wanted to go over, but the Instructor Assistant on night duty stopped me and warned me not to approach the stone house without permission. I could only listen to the young master's cries from afar, completely helpless.
The young master cried for most of the night, and then I heard the sounds of him eating the vegetables, very loudly. And so, the young master would eat some vegetables and then cry for a while, cry for a while and then eat more vegetables, carrying on like that until dawn before he finally fell asleep.
In the afternoon, that Instructor Locke came, brought a few people to tidy up the house, gave the young master a shower, dressed him in a coarse linen garment, and then had the young master place his hand in front of him, saying it was something about taking his pulse. The young master kept crying and cursing, but Instructor Locke and the others paid him no attention. They also said something about making a whip that would hurt a lot but wouldn't damage the bones. Good heavens! Were they treating the young master like a slave?
Then that Instructor Locke called me over, gave me a blueprint, and told me to build a bathhouse for them in the academy. It was a very large structure. He said it was supporting infrastructure for the young master's weight loss. I highly suspected they were taking advantage of the situation for their own private gain, because I had never seen a bathhouse that had such a tiny, fully wooden room. And they called it a steam room — who did they think they were fooling!
Butler Bill's Diary: Alliance Calendar 167, February 21st, Sunny. The young master chewed on vegetables all night again last night, but unlike the night before last, he didn't cry or throw a tantrum.
Instructor Locke came again in the afternoon. Just like yesterday, he gave the young master a shower, took his pulse, and tidied up the house. He also asked me to go buy another cartload of vegetables. I secretly bought a few tomatoes and mixed them in with the rest. I believe the young master will be very happy.
The budget for the bathhouse blueprint that Instructor Locke gave yesterday was finalized. It would cost over a hundred gold coins to build. When I reported it up the chain, the master approved the construction. The family will send people to the academy to carry out the work.
Butler Bill's Diary: Alliance Calendar 167, February 22nd, Sunny. The young master chewed on carrots all night last night. It seems I bought a few too many carrots this time.
Instructor Locke took the young master's pulse and had someone give him a shower. He then gave me a list and told me to go source some medicinal herbs. He said he was going to brew a potion for the young master to drink.
Butler Bill's Diary: Alliance Calendar 167, February 23rd, Overcast. The young master chewed on celery last night. The carrots are all gone.
Instructor Locke had a few people hold the young master down and poured a tube of potion down his throat. It must have been very bitter, because the young master cried again.
And then the young master started having diarrhea.
...
Diary of Butler Bill: 31st day of February, Year 167 of the Alliance Calendar, sunny. The young master slept very peacefully last night, without snoring or talking in his sleep, and slept straight through until dawn.
These past few days, the young master has been taking the diarrhea medicine, but today it seems the number of trips to the toilet has decreased. His spirits have also improved; unlike the first couple of days when he was deathly pale and unsteady on his feet.
In the afternoon, Instructor Locke weighed the young master. He had lost seventeen pounds. It's only been a few days, but it seems the young master has hope for losing weight! Truly heartening. But Instructor Locke said he needs to lose at least one hundred seventy pounds more to reach a normal weight. Is that possible? It's hard to imagine the young master being only a hundred fifty or sixty pounds like me.
Instructor Locke also gave me a list of medicinal herbs, saying the young master no longer needs to take the diarrhea potion. The greasy buildup in his stomach has been mostly expelled. Instructor Locke said that starting tomorrow, they'll begin physical training, and he'll prepare a new potion for the young master.
2nd, sunny. The young master slept well last night.
Instructor Locke arrived early in the morning and told the young master to run three laps around the training grounds. The young master refused. Instructor Locke pulled out two fist-sized loaves of bread and said if the young master would run, he could eat them. The young master had been chewing on vegetables for over ten days. His eyes turned red at the sight of the bread, and he lunged to grab it, but Instructor Locke knocked him to the ground. Instructor Locke said that if he didn't run, he'd throw the bread into the toilet, and the young master would continue eating vegetables.
Just for those two black loaves made from whole wheat flour, the young master went to the training grounds and ran three laps. By the last lap, he couldn't run anymore and nearly had to crawl and roll to finish. Instructor Locke had someone support the young master as they walked most of a lap around the grounds before he could catch his breath. Watching the young master frantically stuffing the bread into his mouth, I really felt heartache; I wanted to cry.
The young master's diet changed from today. Breakfast is a bowl of plain congee and two loaves of bread. Lunch and dinner are still vegetables. Now the young master has physical training every day. In the morning he runs three laps, in the afternoon there are other exercises, and in the evening he runs three more laps. After each training session, he must drink a large bowl of salt water, supposedly to replenish body salts. Before bed, he has to drink a test tube of potion.
In the afternoon, the young master refused to train because Instructor Locke wanted him to do frog jumps and push-ups. Instructor Locke actually took out a whip and lashed him. The young master let out a pained howl, and a bloody welt appeared on his body. The young master had never been beaten since birth! I wanted to go intervene, but the Instructor Assistant grabbed me and warned that if I interfered, based on the contract signed by the master, they would just send the young master home and wash their hands of him. I didn't dare take that responsibility, so I could only hold back tears and watch the young master complete his training under the whip.
Diary of Butler Bill: 33rd day of February, Year 167 of the Alliance Calendar, sunny. The young master groaned all night from the beating. Although Instructor Locke had someone apply medicine after training, the young master still couldn't sleep from the pain, and in the morning he was dragged up to continue physical training.
The good news today was that the academy's bathhouse had been completed thanks to the efforts of the family craftsmen. In the evening, after the young master finished his potion, Instructor Locke took him to the bathhouse for a steam bath. I was also permitted to enter and attend to the young master.
So this was what a steam bath was. You stayed in that small wooden room, heated large cobblestones on the stove until they were red hot, carried them in a basin inside, and then poured water over them. In no time, the whole wooden room was filled with steam—so hot and scalding that it was hard to breathe. Everyone stripped completely naked. Instructor Locke's figure was truly fit and handsome, while the young master was all flab. I kept carrying in red-hot cobblestones and pouring water over them, drenched in sweat myself. The young master lay motionless on the wooden platform, oil and sweat streaming from his body. After about twenty minutes, the young master passed out. Instructor Locke said it was fine, that it was just because the temperature was too high and he couldn't breathe, so moving him to a well-ventilated spot would let him slowly wake up. After rinsing off with water and finishing the bath, he could go to sleep.
...
Diary of Butler Bill: 1st of March, Year 167 of the Alliance Calendar, sunny. The young master slept very well last night. These past few days, he has been undergoing physical training. Every time, there was an Instructor Assistant carrying a whip, following him. If the young master tried to slack off, they would lash him hard. In the evening, the young master had to take a steam bath. I felt that the young master seemed much more energetic. He didn't gasp for breath as much when walking or running, and his strength seemed to have increased a bit. Tonight, while I was attending to the young master during his steam bath, he suddenly grabbed my hand, squeezing it so hard it hurt. The young master said he was going crazy craving meat and asked me to find a way to get him some barbecue to taste.
But I didn't dare. Because when the young master was telling me this, he didn't know that the Instructor who accompanied him for his steam baths was standing right behind him. That Instructor shot me a fierce glare. It was a warning.
Instructor Locke didn't come today. I heard he has an academy duel tomorrow, followed by Challenger Day. I really couldn't imagine who would be so arrogant as to take on the Silver Instructors of twenty-seven academies single-handedly, even calling himself the Undefeated Silver. I heard from the other instructors that there were already over sixteen hundred Silver-rank external challengers. I don't believe that so many challengers and the academies' Silver Instructors together can't defeat Instructor Locke. He's just a
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March 2nd, clear weather.
Last night, Lorist had already received the duel schedule sent by the academy, but it was only for the matches between academies. The external Challenger Day schedule was set to start on March 3rd—tomorrow—but there was no list of opponents.
"There's no other way to attract the punters. Money's at stake here, so I had to be thorough." Fatty Shi spread his hands with an innocent look.
Lorist couldn't be bothered to argue with him. Besides, today's opponent was Violet Academy, ranked twenty-first. It didn't seem like they had any famous Silver Instructors, and even Lorist himself found it hard to muster any enthusiasm.
He had even dragged along most of the elite members of the Swordsmanship Society. Seeing Lorist looking around bored, he said, "Don't rush off. Stick around and you'll see a good show in a bit."
Soon enough, the good show Fatty mentioned began. A pitch-black throng appeared at the academy gates. At the very front were a group of Silver Instructors sporting the badges of Violet Academy, each one of them looking arrogant and overbearing. The majority of the people behind them were spectators from other academies who had come to watch the fun.
Dean Levins stood on his crutch in front of the indoor training grounds, which had just undergone a month of emergency expansion, receiving the other academy deans. After a lively round of insincere pleasantries, Dean Levins politely welcomed the people from Violet Academy and the deans into the training grounds, but the instructors and students who had followed the deans to watch the duels were all blocked outside.
"What's the meaning of this, you old cripple?" Dean Weston of Saint Maso Academy asked with a grim expression.
Dean Levins had suffered from a serious illness when he was a child, something like polio, and his legs had never been comfortable since.
Dean Levins gave a slight smile and said calmly, "You old bastard, Violet Academy is here for a duel. You deans are the academy's most honored guests, which is why I came personally to welcome you. But those people behind you weren't invited by me. If they want to get in, they can use that door."
Following the direction Dean Levins pointed, Dean Weston looked up and saw four large characters written on the gate beside him—'Entry by Ticket Only'. Next to it was a small window with a sign reading 'Ticket Office'.
"The ticket price isn't expensive. Only one small silver coin per person," Dean Levins said.
"Old cripple, are you really that obsessed with money? Can't you let such a trifling sum go? Can't you learn to be a bit more generous? I'll cover the tickets for everyone here today. Go count how many there are." Dean Weston said with great bravado, taking an exquisite pouch from his person and tossing it to a Silver Instructor of Saint Maso Academy.
"Dean Weston, you're awesome!" "Thank you, Dean Weston!" The crowd gathered outside erupted in shouts.
Dean Levins, seeming not to notice Dean Weston's smugness, calmly extended his hand and said, "Everyone, this way, please."
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The indoor training ground had been completely transformed after the expansion. In the center was a square arena seven meters long and five meters wide, surrounded by eight tiers of stands that could probably hold over two thousand spectators.
Lorist stood lazily on the arena, bored as he watched several beauties dressed in Dawn Academy student uniforms weaving through the crowd in the stands, calling out in crisp pleasant voices: "Buy a lottery ticket! Anyone want to buy a lottery ticket? If you bet on Instructor Locke winning, one large silver coin pays one small silver coin. If you bet on Violet Academy winning, one small silver coin pays one large silver coin…"
Dean Weston and the dean of Violet Academy jumped in anger from the stands: "Old cripple, what do you mean by this?"
Dean Levins said lightly, "A few female students are just doing work-study to earn some money. What's there to be alarmed about? Maybe they are supporters of Instructor Locke and have a lot of confidence in him, so they set these odds. If you two are unhappy, you can go buy a few tickets. If you win, you can teach them a lesson."
"As if you weren't the old cripple scheming behind this!" The two deans glared fiercely at Dean Levins. Dean Weston said, "I still have a dozen or so Gold Fordes in this pouch. I'm betting them all on Violet Academy winning. I'll bankrupt you, you old cripple!"
The dean of Violet Academy was mobilizing the instructors of his academy: "Everyone, take out your money and bet on our academy winning. That kid on the arena doesn't have two heads or three hands. He's just a Black Iron. I don't believe that our academy's twenty Silver Instructors can't handle him. Taking turns in battle will wear him down until he collapses…"
The female students selling lottery tickets on the bleachers were completely swamped, but everyone was buying tickets for Violet Academy to win. Only a few Dawn Academy instructors who had come to watch bought tickets for Instructor Locke to win.
The dean of Violet Academy clutched a thick stack of lottery tickets and sat next to Dean Weston, talking in a low voice. "...Although Instructor Warbas is only a two-star Silver, his swordsmanship is exceptionally sharp. Sending him out first was to test the true level of that kid named Rock. If his swordsmanship is truly superb, our academy's strategy is to drag it out and exhaust him through attrition... Look, Instructor Warbas is entering the arena. He has rich combat experience, having participated in eighteen duels and won seventeen... Urk..."
Instructor Warbas, on whom the dean had pinned such high hopes, collapsed at Lorist's feet after just a single exchange, his limbs twitching. T-this was too fast! No one even saw how he fell, and Lorist hadn't even drawn his sword. The dean fell silent like a duck with its neck wrung, his constant chatter abruptly cut off, stunned, pointing at the arena, utterly speechless.
Fatty quickly walked onto the arena, checked him, and announced loudly: "Struck heavily on the chin. He's unconscious. Next!"
In less than half an hour, all twenty Silver Instructors of Violet Academy were carried off the arena. Lorist even yawned on the stage.
The few beautiful female students selling lotteries hugged each other, cheering and jumping for joy. The law-enforcing disciples maintaining order in the training hall also raised their swords, shouting the slogan, "Instructor Locke... Invincible among Silvers!"
Dean Weston on the bleachers wore a dark expression, not saying a word. He violently tore up the lottery tickets in his hand, stood up, and without even saying goodbye to Dean Levins, turned and left. The other spectators from the other academies also left one by one, their spirits utterly deflated.
The dean of Violet Academy was dumbstruck, his face ashen, the lottery tickets fluttering to the ground without him even noticing. How could this be? The twenty Silver Instructors of his academy had lost so easily, each one knocked down in a single exchange! The strongest of them had only managed to last three moves against that Rock...
Lorist grabbed Fatty. "How many challengers did you notify for the duels tomorrow?"
Fatty replied, "Twenty. Same number as today."
Lorist smacked his lips and said, "Too few. Let's make it fifty next time. The sooner we settle this, the sooner we're done."
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Butler Bill's Diary: Alliance Calendar Year 167, March 2nd, Clear. I lost a gold coin today. I really didn't expect Violet Academy to be so useless. Twenty Silver Instructors couldn't even defeat Instructor Locke. But tomorrow will be different. They are all famous Silver-ranked mercenary experts from outside, nothing like those instructors who just boast all day in the academy. Luckily, the odds at Fatty Shi's haven't changed. It looks like I can still win my gold coin back.
The young master was fine today. His training and bath were normal.