Chapter Forty-Three: Training II

Fulgrem moved with such speed that the onlookers, themselves travelers from other worlds, could not discern his actions. Yet Wang Ming managed to catch a glimpse—barely—reacting with all the quickness he could muster. He raised his training sword, blocking Fulgrem's blade before him.

But in the very instant Wang Ming deflected Fulgrem’s sword, Fulgrem laid his blade flat atop Wang Ming’s, sliding it along until it reached Wang Ming’s right hand. As the edge touched Wang Ming’s hand, Fulgrem lifted his sword, tracing a flawless arc through the air, and halted with the blade poised at Wang Ming’s throat.

The entire sequence lasted less than a second. The gathered travelers, gifted with the physical prowess of trueborn Astartes, saw only a fleeting blur; in its wake, Fulgrem’s sword rested against Wang Ming’s neck.

“You need to match my speed,” Fulgrem withdrew his blade and addressed the bewildered Wang Ming.

Wang Ming was utterly confused. He had clearly seen Fulgrem’s strike and could have responded in time. He witnessed every movement, yet could not make a single countermove.

“You lack any combat technique. You failed to react in the first instant. You can see my actions, but you cannot think of any way to counter me,” Fulgrem summarized Wang Ming’s predicament.

“Let’s continue. You must do your best to keep up with my movements and respond as I act,” Fulgrem instructed.

Wang Ming nodded, taking Fulgrem’s critique to heart.

Once both were ready again, Fulgrem rushed at Wang Ming. This time, Wang Ming watched Fulgrem’s blade, striving to dodge each strike and thrust, and gradually managed to clash blades with him.

“Remember, the sword’s most common actions are the slash and the thrust. In combat, you must also search for the enemy’s vulnerabilities,” Fulgrem explained as he sparred with Wang Ming, imparting the art of swordsmanship.

As he spoke, Fulgrem pressed his blade to Wang Ming’s throat once more.

“Your movements are too exaggerated, too many openings. You must minimize them,” Fulgrem advised, his demeanor light and unhurried. He had been teaching Wang Ming all along with just one hand on the sword.

Gradually, under Fulgrem’s guidance, Wang Ming mastered the basics of swordplay, favoring slashes over thrusts.

In the days that followed, Wang Ming continued training with Fulgrem, practicing combat skills and the ways of commanding a legion. As a clone of the Primarch of the former Third Legion, the Emperor’s Children, Fulgrem possessed all the memories and command techniques of his original self.

Fulgrem’s methods of warfare and leadership were flawless; he strove for perfection in himself and his legion, perhaps one reason his original was corrupted by the Prince of Excess.

“Honored Primarch, we have encountered an issue aboard our vessel.” As Wang Ming practiced swordsmanship with Fulgrem that day, the captain of the Imperial Truth, Leandro Ferreira, suddenly contacted Wang Ming through the ship’s communication system.

“An issue? What has happened?” Wang Ming set down his training sword, picked up his personal datapad, and asked Leandro Ferreira.

“We have a missing crew member,” Leandro Ferreira reported.