Teaching

“Now, remember the second rule from my class: caliber is justice, range is truth. Everyone, open the weapon case before you and take out your guns. In my class, your gun is your first life. Now, examine your firearm as you would caress a lover, memorize every contour, and after ensuring everything is in order, follow the postures I demonstrated and feel the different sensations as you grip the gun from various angles…”

Ji Ning glanced around. Whether blonde foreign girls or black-haired Asian boys, everyone was methodically disassembling their firearms. Ji Ning stood before his weapon case, pretending to know what he was doing. He wasn’t sure if he could just take the gun out; he remembered something about a safety, but wasn’t certain if this gun had one, or even where it was. Very quickly, Theodosius noticed the boy who stood out so awkwardly from the others.

“Are you preparing to cast an object-control spell on your firearm?” Theodosius stared at Ji Ning with irritation. He’d been watching this fellow for a while; Ji Ning kept dawdling, and Theodosius didn’t understand what he was looking for. Was he perhaps one of Desmond Doss’s group?

“No… No, I’m not…” Ji Ning replied awkwardly.

“Then get on your knees and pray to your god that your enemy will be merciful! And never point the barrel at yourself! Looks like I’ll have to recite Jeff Cooper’s rules of safe shooting just for you. Listen up: Always assume every gun is loaded; never point the muzzle at anything you don’t wish to destroy; keep your finger outside the trigger guard unless you’re ready to shoot; repeatedly check your target and its surroundings. Respect firearms, respect what they can do. Remember, proper handling is respect for others and yourself.”

Theodosius finished with evident annoyance, then walked over and rotated Ji Ning’s weapon case. The foolish boy had been letting the barrel aim right at his own waist. Even though Theodosius had checked each student’s weapon the night before and confirmed no bullets were in any case, he still turned the gun toward an empty direction before continuing his instruction.

“I’ve never seen a real gun before, let alone handled one. I just don’t know how, and even if a gun went off, it’d be bad to shoot flowers and grass, let alone people,” Ji Ning tried to defend himself innocently. While firearms were simple to operate—American middle schoolers could master them in days and surprise their classmates at school—for Ji Ning, who had never touched one, the gun was as unfamiliar as a lover he’d never met or even imagined.

“You’re from China?” Theodosius glanced at Ji Ning; the black hair was quite distinctive.

“Yes,” Ji Ning nodded, noticing Theodosius’s expression softened slightly, though only a little.

Theodosius didn’t keep Ji Ning waiting long. After about five minutes, he handed Ji Ning a thick notebook that could serve as a stool. “Read through these materials before joining the practical training. At the end of the morning session, I’ll randomly ask you questions about the first chapter on gun parts, and you’ll need to demonstrate assembling the firearm within twenty minutes. Why are you still staring at me? There are five hours and forty-two minutes until class ends. Believe me, you definitely don’t want to know how I punish students who fail their assignments.”

Dejected, Ji Ning had barely taken two steps when Theodosius called him back. Eyeing the weak, helpless boy before him, Theodosius rubbed his bald head and gave a surprisingly genial, ferocious grin. “Your progress will lag far behind the others, so you’ll need extra lessons. Tonight at eight, I’ll be waiting here for you.”

After the morning’s hot weapons training, Ji Ning, his mind filled with diagrams of buffer springs and recoil dampers, staggered around like a ghoul freshly baptized by the Vatican choir. Skipping his nap after lunch, he arrived an hour early at the location for the hand-to-hand combat class. This time, no one would wake him from sleep with a gun pressed lovingly to his forehead.

A majestic building stood proudly on the open ground, devoid of excess decoration. Only a single road led to it. Every student seeing it for the first time approached with a sense of pilgrimage. The oval structure had four levels, its base adorned with the famous Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian columns.

Although he’d never been to Rome, Ji Ning instantly recognized the building’s inspiration. These foreigners certainly spared no expense on such things, he mused, admiring the grand architecture. After all, not every school could afford a full-scale replica of the Roman Colosseum as a teaching venue. The imposing structure inspired awe in every student attending their first combat class—perhaps that was the board’s intention, to let every student resonate with the souls of gladiators from a millennium ago.

Arriving early and bored, Ji Ning wandered around the arena. As he recalled scenes from “Roman Holiday,” leaning in a quiet corner and drifting off, the image of Audrey Hepburn flashed across his mind like a celestial vision. Suddenly, he felt a hand seize his back, and the world spun upside down. Before he could react, his arms were twisted behind him and pinned to the ground.

Honey-gold skin blossoming in the summer, a brown ponytail wild as a mustang, toned abs—every muscle was perfectly defined, as if she’d stepped straight out of mythology. Once you saw her, you could never forget Silvia Bennett’s sharp gaze or the figure every woman dreamed of possessing.

“Ambush! That’s an ambush! Where’s the honor of a martial artist?” Ji Ning protested, hoping to gain the upper hand. It seemed to work, for the strong hand released him.

“Ji Ning, a competent fighter never cries foul at being ambushed. They only blame themselves for relaxing their guard.” Silvia smiled at him as she warmed up, her gaze no different from the gym rats eyeing ten-kilo dumbbells.

“Combat lessons are individual. You’re lucky—I’m your instructor, Silvia Bennett. Let’s see what you’ve got. Isn’t there an old saying in China about teaching according to ability?” Silvia declared her identity and invited Ji Ning to demonstrate.

Ji Ning’s thick skin was his only notable trait, but that didn’t mean he could take a beating. He was wise enough not to try turtle punches against a master. He could already picture Silvia’s astonished expression after knocking him out with a single blow.

“You don’t really want to see the ancient Eastern turtle punch, do you?” Ji Ning shrugged, then raised his hands in a standard French military salute.

“Just joking. With your stance and movement speed, if I couldn’t see your fragility, I wouldn’t be qualified to teach you combat.” Silvia smiled. “I’m just curious.” Her words were gentle, but Ji Ning caught the underlying meaning.

“Are F-ranks really that rare?”

Silvia gave him a noncommittal smile, reminding Ji Ning of that fat cat sunning itself in the library.

“Let me briefly outline my teaching plan. First, we’ll build physical fitness. After about a month, we’ll start unarmed combat. As for weapons training, that’ll wait until next semester. Yes, your combat course is registered with the academic office and will be extended from one term to a full year. Don’t look at me like a sulking child—it wasn’t my doing. Usually, only the most exceptional students qualify for the single-term course. Remember, Ji Ning, credits aren’t what you should pursue. What you learn here is far more important.”

“Alright, after that brief introduction, I won’t waste any more time. Let’s begin.” Professor Silvia led Ji Ning through warm-ups, though her idea of “warm-up” was very different from his own.

“Why can’t your legs go lower? Like this—see? Your flexibility needs work. Can’t you pick up the pace? Come here, take off your shirt. Yes, all of it—I need to see your shoulders and back muscles. You need more training, little guy. Have you ever suddenly increased your exercise load? When you push past your physical limits, you must protect your body. Recovery and training are equally important in this class. Strange—you have so little muscle, yet you’re so stiff…” Young and energetic, Professor Silvia didn’t care at all about Ji Ning’s bare torso. She pointed and commented as if he were a child, though in her eyes, Ji Ning’s fighting ability was indeed no different.

“I once studied under a Chinese martial artist whose catchphrase was ‘showy moves.’ But before we worry about showy moves, we need you to at least look the part. Your fitness is poor; we’ll need to add extra sessions outside regular class. Think of it as special training. Don’t look so exhausted—rest assured, for students who fall short physically, I have the authority to request enchanted potions from Deer Academy, and every weekend, I’ll take you to soak in nutrient baths. So even if the exercise load is heavy, it won’t damage your body or leave any lasting effects.”

Normally, after physical training, the class would move on to combat techniques, but considering Ji Ning’s current state, Silvia postponed that part to later days.

While Ji Ning rested nearby, Silvia expertly demonstrated every combat technique she planned to teach him—from Wing Chun to Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, from Kyokushin Karate to Russian Sambo. Silvia showed Ji Ning what a true martial arts master was. Yet in the days to come, her teaching methods left Ji Ning uncomfortable both mentally and physically. Compared to Professor Theodosius’s “traditional” approach, Professor Silvia’s instruction was much more dynamic.

Each lesson began with half an hour of warm-ups, then endurance training. After a month, as Ji Ning’s stamina improved, he started learning actual combat skills: drills and guidance on technique followed by Silvia’s exclusive method, which gradually took up more and more of the class.

Silvia’s exclusive teaching content was extremely simple: one word—fight. Or, more accurately, two—get beaten. According to her, muscle memory was far more crucial in combat than neural reflexes that required conscious thought.

Ji Ning was handed over to Theodosius by Silvia herself.

When the first day at Deer Academy finally ended, Ji Ning lay in bed at night, unable to sleep because of the pain coursing through his body. A thought suddenly occurred: maybe staying at the SCP Foundation wouldn’t have been so bad. All he had to do there was eat, drink, and sleep, while here he had so much to learn.

He grumbled to himself, checked his schedule for the next day, set his alarm two hours earlier, and finally, exhausted and sore, drifted into a deep sleep.

Tonight, he did not suffer from insomnia.