Emily Turner swung her bamboo sword with satisfaction, feeling that although she had spent a year buried in her studies and hadn’t practiced much, the sword skills she had developed since childhood hadn’t regressed much. She took small steps over to James Walker, glanced at him still dazed and confused, and, regardless of whether he could hear her or not, opened her mouth and mockingly boasted, “Oh my, does it hurt? Don’t blame me—if you want to blame someone, blame yourself for hanging out with Mr. Carter! This is your lesson, so watch your mouth from now on! Otherwise, every time I see you, I’ll beat you up!”

Henry Carter couldn’t help but look at Emily Turner, raising his eyebrows. You won, that’s nothing to say, it’s just that James Walker wasn’t as skilled. But chasing after him to mock him is a bit much, isn’t it? Besides, even if James Walker was a bit arrogant, he didn’t really offend you, did he?

And what does this have to do with me? Just because he hangs out with me, he deserves a beating?

He stepped in front of James Walker and asked in a deep voice, “Ms. Turner, what do you mean by this?”

Emily Turner immediately shifted her gaze to him, looking him up and down with a mocking smile: “Mr. Carter? Are you angry? Haha, don’t rush, don’t rush, your turn is coming! Ah, but you probably don’t dare, what a pity… your lackey took the hit for you!” Her voice was full of contempt and delight, as if making Henry Carter suffer—even if just to disgust him—made her feel extremely satisfied, like she was venting a huge grudge. “I can understand if you don’t dare… Hey, even if you beat me in the exams once, so what? Overall, I’m still stronger!”

Chapter 9 Owen Taylor

Henry Carter looked at Emily Turner, but with the face guard in the way, he could only see her bright eyes through the gaps—he still didn’t understand how he had offended this little brat. Maybe it was related to entrance exam scores, but he wasn’t even the top student; there was someone above him. If she wanted to pick a fight, it shouldn’t be with him first.

But when faced with a challenge, he didn’t bother to explain that he had never practiced kendo before, and was currently just a frail bookworm who would even struggle to kill a chicken. He simply stood up slowly and looked straight into Emily Turner’s eyes.

His childhood experiences had taught him that when faced with unprovoked provocation, you must never respond with weakness. As the saying goes, “the kind are bullied, the tame are ridden.” If you show weakness once, endless trouble will follow. If that’s the case, it’s better to fight back—even if you get beaten up, you should at least bite your opponent once, to raise the cost of their pleasure!

Besides, he didn’t like being targeted, even if the other party was a girl… He was getting a bit angry.

If Emily Turner provoked him again, even if he couldn’t win, he’d still fight!

He was just about to speak, but unexpectedly, Ryan Smith beside him stood up even faster, angrily demanding, “With your skill, you could have won without using a thrust—why use such a dangerous move!”

His eyes were actually a bit red, which made Emily Turner pause for a moment, but she quickly retorted, refusing to back down: “Then why did he use jodan-no-kamae? If you insult others, you’ll be insulted in return—he brought this on himself! And what’s wrong with a thrust? I’ve taken more thrusts than I can count since I was a kid. Is it against kendo rules to use a thrust? Is it my fault he’s too weak? If he’s so weak, how does he have the nerve to look down on others? I have just two words for him—serves him right!”

Her mouth fired off like a machine gun, rattling off a barrage that left Ryan Smith speechless. He could only clench his fists and angrily say, “Fine, fine! Serves him right? Huh… serves him right? Then I’ll fight you!”

Emily Turner refused. She wasn’t unreasonable—after all, Ryan Smith hadn’t offended her. She scoffed, “I’m not interested in fighting you, little white… If Mr. Carter doesn’t dare, then forget it. Bullying the weak isn’t my style.”

She sounded righteous, but to Ryan Smith, it was just an insult. His face, and even his neck, turned red with anger. He turned to head to the locker room to change and put on his gear, but at that moment, Preston Hill, who had just finished checking on James Walker, suddenly burst out: “Enough! This is a kendo dojo—hold your swords with respect. This isn’t the place to settle personal grudges.”

He wasn’t stupid; after listening for a bit, he could tell that Emily Turner and these three didn’t get along. What test, what practice match—this was just a group looking for an excuse to fight legally.

Emily Turner didn’t want to go head-to-head with an upperclassman, so she immediately shut her mouth. Ryan Smith, however, was still furious and shouted, “But—”

“What’s going on?” A loud voice boomed from the doorway. “Why are you all gathered there instead of practicing? Didn’t you embarrass yourselves enough last time? Don’t you know what it means to feel shame and then strive for improvement? Wasn’t losing at the last prefectural tournament humiliating enough?”

The few club members who had gathered to watch the commotion quickly scattered and went off to practice on their own. Ryan Smith’s face instantly went from red to white. He turned and said, “Sis, you… you’re back!”

“At school, call me ‘senpai.’ In the club, call me ‘captain!’” Ryan Smith’s sister strode into the dojo. Her high ponytail was tied with a white cloth band, and she bounced as she walked, looking full of energy. Her facial features were very similar to Ryan Smith’s—arched brows, phoenix eyes, and thin, moist red lips. But while the same features made Ryan Smith look a bit delicate, she exuded a strong, masculine energy. Her skin was also a bit darker than Ryan Smith’s, radiating a healthy, vibrant look.