The whistle sounded.
On the Claymore side, they held dark training Claymores.
On the Sword side, they held silver-gray wu feng swords.
The former was a thick iron plate shaped into a blade, the latter was a similar low-grade blade.
The ATK of the weapons was not significantly different.
On a relatively fair basis, for each sparring session, both sides would send out ten people, ranked from high to low in their training, to fight in pairs.
Others would observe, learning from the victors' strengths and analyzing the reasons for the losers' failures.
"The third person in the first group, the lightness of Favonius Bladework is there, but the force is insufficient! He suffers greatly when facing the powerful and heavy Claymore, and the outcome is basically decided."
Ryan pulled Noelle to the best viewing spot, judging the outcome of the two combatants as soon as they engaged.
This was an extreme self-confidence in his eyesight.
An insight into the weak, based on his own Realm and strength.
"The fifth person, his Sword Intent is focused on speed, and although his opponent's speed is good, the weight of his Sword makes him a fraction slower each time. With similar strength, this fraction affects the outcome."
"Claymore Bladework is different from Sword Bladework. Only after engaging will you realize that you might not necessarily defeat someone of the same rank, nor will you necessarily lose to someone of a higher rank."
"The lightness, speed, and precision of Favonius Bladework are unmatched by Claymores in terms of lightness and speed, but the larger blade for defense and greater power for striking completely make up for the difference."
"As for precision, everyone is trained with the same method, so it's the same."
Ryan observed all directions, taking in the situation of every sparring group.
This feeling was like playing chess; playing by himself, and watching two other people play, brought different insights and thought processes.
Many people can point out flaws and have clear ideas when watching.
But when they go up themselves, they play terribly.
The tension and calmness of emotions affect the performance of one's strength.
Ryan hoped that he could always, in battle, detach himself and come outside the "board," maintaining a transcendent state of mind.
He was both the chess player and the observer of the game.
He could multitask and grasp the surrounding situation.
Over two hundred people, a total of ten groups, each group lasting about ten minutes.
Adding the time for entering and leaving the arena, it would take approximately two hours.
All the Sword and Claymore trainees finished their matches, with wins and losses.
Overall, the Sword trainees were slightly stronger because the Instructor was stricter, plus there was the demonstration by Qin and Ryan's guidance yesterday.
Immediately, the atmosphere on the other side was not good.
Depression and anger were evident to everyone.
The Sword trainees even added fuel to the fire, loudly expressing contempt and mockery.
"I thought they were so great? Is this all there is, just this?"
The Instructor shook his head, they were too carried away.
The Claymore side was unwilling, stepping forward and saying, "We lost this round! Therefore, we seek Ryan's guidance even more!"
"We hope Ryan will not hesitate to teach and guide all of us!"
At this point, Ryan couldn't quite figure out what the other side was thinking.
Were they truly just seeking guidance?
"Ryan, are you willing?"
The Instructor asked Ryan, and Ryan immediately agreed.
"It's an honor that all Claymore users treat me with the respect of a master!"
He smiled, acting like an Instructor, surveying the crowd, making people clench their teeth in anger.
The Sword trainees sat triumphantly on wooden crates.
You guys, you have your day too?
"Please instruct us!" The Claymore trainees were either sincere or pretending.
Ryan, with his high artistic skill, was bold and not afraid of schemes.
Since you want guidance, then I'll let you learn how to take a beating.
"To save time, I'll give each of you fifty moves to demonstrate your Bladework!"
Ryan said words that the Sword trainees took for granted, but the Claymore trainees found arrogant.
The Instructor gave a wry smile, no need to hit them so hard.
Be a bit more restrained!
After all, yesterday, you gave the Sword trainees a hundred moves.
Why did it halve when it came to them?
"First one, come up!"
Ryan dragged his wu feng sword on the ground, casually tracing through the unswept wood chips.
"I'll come!"
A large man, a Claymore trainee, stepped out. He had no grievances with Ryan, and whether the ground was swept or not didn't matter. He had simply chosen the easier option before. This time, he was genuinely seeking guidance.
The Sword Intent and Sword Soul of Claymores and Swords were different, but the core was the same.
All were for the protection of Mondstadt.
"You go first!" Ryan remembered this person; his performance in the previous match was good, one of the best.
The opponent didn't waste words, swinging his training Claymore and charging forward.
A simple, unadorned, wind-howling horizontal slash.
His arm muscles bulged, and his legs were firmly set in a horse stance.
A row of five large wooden stakes could be split in half by this move.
Ryan raised his Sword.
He added a little force to the blade.
The slender wu feng sword easily blocked the wide and heavy training Claymore.
And, with a tremor, it bounced it away.
He swung it sharply towards the opponent's face, brushing a strand of hair by his ear.
He retracted his hand!
"Continue!" His clothes fluttered, his posture was outstanding, directly giving all Claymore trainees a warning.
The big man's expression darkened slightly, and he chopped diagonally again.
Ryan's body turned slightly, the blade blocked, his feet unmoving.
He even closed his eyes, sensing the Bladework style of the Claymore.
Eula was too strong; after incorporating her dance steps, her personal style was too prominent, which prevented him from discerning the characteristics of Claymores.
Now, when ordinary people used it, he could feel its original form.
It was also Favonius Bladework.
If Sword was the omnipresent light breeze on the prairie, Claymore was the constantly surging gust in the valley.
The big man used his footwork, constantly slashing around Ryan.
He held nothing back!
Ryan's disregard was infuriating, but his strength commanded respect.
In the original sparring, everyone used these bladed Swords, fearing blood or severed limbs, so they were restrained, only attacking the opponent's Sword and non-vital body parts to determine the winner.
Now, the Claymore trainees had no qualms, with some moves aiming directly for fatal injuries.
The observing Instructor frowned, took out a notebook, and wrote down a few overly aggressive men.
The trainees attacking Ryan changed one after another.
Each time after fifty moves, their blade would be knocked away.
And Ryan also felt that his "Listening to the Wind to Discern Position," which he had comprehended while sparring with Eula, had reached Minor Achievement.
When those gusts of wind surged, they would be heard by his ears and felt by the fine hairs on his skin.
His body would be a step ahead, striking back with the wind.
After fifty rounds,
Ryan began to practice his ability to multitask, observing the "game" from outside.
His body was in the arena, but his mind was outside.
Before his eyes were not only the frenzied attacking Claymore trainees, but also the Instructor ready to intervene nearby; the happily applauding Sword trainees; the whispering Claymore spectators.
He saw Noelle, who sometimes worried when he seemed to be lost in thought and then suddenly in danger.
This was a very strange feeling.
It was as if all the surrounding information, because of his photographic memory, was loaded into his mind, and then an identical scene was constructed in his mind.
The people and objects in the scene were moving, and he was at the center of the scene, resisting the storm.
He carefully moved within the scene's range, but the map in his mind was difficult to expand, like the boundaries of a chessboard.
The mental exhaustion was unprecedented.
After a hundred battles, his head was throbbing, like mush.
His mind had been overworked!
Tonight, I'll eat something to nourish my brain!