Chapter 31: Growing Stronger

If it wasn’t the Basic Sword Technique, then it could only be the One-Hearted Sword Technique. Indeed, it was fiercer than the basic form, and the movements were more complex. The young figure swung her bamboo sword with smooth, practiced motions—much stronger and more fluid than those demonstrated by Tang Shen with the Basic Sword Technique—making each movement a pleasure to witness.

For someone so young to reach such a level was not only due to her extraordinary talent but also the result of tireless effort. Yet what struck Tang Shen most was that this One-Hearted Sword Technique embodied a certain masculine rigidity and ferocity; many moves relied primarily on strength.

Clearly, this was a sword style meant for men. In the early stages, with strong innate talent, progress was obvious—after all, Kuina was still growing, and her practice of such techniques naturally outpaced ordinary people, thanks to her exceptional gifts. But once she encountered a boy with equal talent in swordsmanship, their early progress would match, but as the boy’s strength continued to grow, the gap would widen, and eventually, it would become insurmountable. This was simply the difference between the physical limits of men and women.

Watching Koushirou’s special attention toward Zoro, and seeing Zoro’s own remarkable physical resilience, Tang Shen felt an unnamed frustration and sense of discouragement welling up within. So Kuina vented her emotions by relentlessly repeating the One-Hearted Sword Technique over and over again.

Tang Shen merely watched in silence, waiting as Kuina performed the technique again and again, meanwhile combing through his memories for all he knew about sword training.

Though his previous life’s strength left much to be desired, his memory was quite sharp—not photographic, but not far off. The world’s renowned swordsmen in the world of pirates were a peculiar bunch: though everyone called their skills “sword techniques,” the weapons they wielded were all called “blades”—the Supreme Grade Blades, Great Grade Blades, Fine Grade Blades, and so on. So in this world, “blade” and “sword” were essentially interchangeable.

Back when he watched the pirate anime, Tang Shen had often mocked this bizarre setting. After all, those wielding blades were called “Great Swordsmen,” and what they practiced was “swordsmanship,” even though, in his homeland, the distinction between sword and blade was strict and clear. While there were similarities, the differences were greater, and even their fundamental training methods diverged, each emphasizing different aspects.

Men and women were naturally built differently, so their training methods should also differ. Yet here, everyone was treated the same, which inevitably led to disparities in strength; those standing at the pinnacle of the world were almost exclusively men, and it was said that no woman had ever truly broken through to become a Great Swordsman—and this was why.

After all, using a man’s strength-training regimen for a woman was no easy feat.

Watching Kuina stubbornly persist in her practice even as her strength was completely spent, her technique starting to fall apart, Tang Shen frowned and spoke up, “Kuina, stop now!”

Kuina’s body stiffened. Panting heavily, she slowly sheathed her bamboo sword, turned around, and with her head hung low, walked over to Tang Shen like a child who had done something wrong, whispering, “Teacher, I’m sorry.”

Expressionless, Tang Shen extended his hand. “Hold out your right hand.”

Slowly, Kuina raised her right arm. She was so exhausted that her arm trembled slightly as she lifted it.

Tang Shen reached out with his left hand and pressed a spot on her forearm. Kuina gasped in pain, her right hand twitching involuntarily and releasing the bamboo sword. Tang Shen was already prepared and caught the falling sword in his right hand, immediately feeling its weight.

He was astonished—the bamboo sword Kuina had been using was no lighter than an ordinary iron sword. The grip was soaked with sweat, bearing the clear imprint of her fingers.

Lifting Kuina’s right arm, he saw the whiteness between her knuckles and the redness and swelling around her wrist; the spot he had pressed was just a sensitive acupoint.

It was obvious: she had overtrained, overexerted her strength, and overused her wrist.

Practicing swordsmanship—especially the kind practiced by men, which is fierce and powerful—requires significant wrist strength. Wrist power is a crucial foundation. Men’s arms and especially wrists are naturally more robust, so their sword techniques can be broad and forceful without undue burden. Women, by contrast, have slender, elongated limbs, and their muscle structure differs greatly due to different hormones. Men grow much stronger through training, while women often develop longer, leaner muscles. This is a matter of physical constitution.

That’s why the One-Hearted Sword Technique was such a heavy burden for Kuina, with her wrists bearing the brunt of it.

“Come, sit down,” Tang Shen said without expression.

Without protest, Kuina obediently sat on the ground. Tang Shen took her right arm and began to massage it, working along the acupoints and tendons of her arm, carefully kneading the entire limb.

Aside from her initial gasp of pain, Kuina gritted her teeth in silence, sweat trickling down her cheeks, but she made no further sound.

What started as stabbing pain gradually gave way to a strange comfort. The soreness, tingling, and swelling stimulated her mind, as if Tang Shen’s hands possessed some kind of magic.

She had thought Tang Shen was punishing her, but now she realized that wasn’t the case. She’d been in this state before; normally, her arm would ache for days, but after Tang Shen’s brief massage, she felt much better—her spirit even seemed revitalized.

“All right,” Tang Shen said quietly, releasing her arm and turning away.

Kuina bit her lip, feeling a pang of grievance. She wanted to say something, but no words came out.

“Go home and rest well tonight. At dawn tomorrow, I’ll be waiting for you here. That’s when your formal training with me will begin.” As Tang Shen’s figure slowly dissolved into points of light, his voice drifted into the ears of the dispirited Kuina.

Her head snapped up, wide eyes filled with disbelief, but Tang Shen was already gone.

She had never expected those words from him. She’d thought he would blame her, scold her harshly—but never this.

In truth, despite always thinking her master was unreliable and weak, whenever she faced Tang Shen’s emotionless gaze, she couldn’t help but feel afraid—more so even than with her own father, a feeling she hadn’t experienced since first learning the sword.

For a long moment she stood there dazed, then a bright smile blossomed on her face. She picked up the bamboo sword and stood up, flexing her right arm, which now felt almost fully restored, free of the earlier stiffness and numbness.

She turned toward the dojo, quickly wiping away the tears from the corners of her eyes as she walked.

“The feeling of being cared for… it’s wonderful,” she whispered, her words dissolving into the wind.

Meanwhile, Zoro, who had been relentlessly striking a tree with his bamboo sword, suddenly paused and glanced over, confusion flickering in his eyes. But then his resolve returned: “I must become stronger. I can’t let big brother down. I have to defeat Kuina, and big brother too!”

With that, he resumed his furious training, striking the tree endlessly, tireless and unyielding.