RSE Chapter 72 (2)

T/N: Here's the link to this novel's manhua, thanks to Ceyda for sharing! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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"You don't coach people for money."

"Such compliments don't impress me." Chelsea wobbled up. Lin Yifei smelled the wine on him. "Let's go. Fight with me. World champion Kevin Phil himself invite me to be your coach. So, let me weigh your level. Foil, épée or sabre?"

"Sabre." Lin Yifei started to answer.

The other party blew a whistle as he passed by Lin Yifei. "Sabre requires a large range of movements, fast attack speed and high requirements in all aspects. Are you sure you want to compete with me?"

"I'm sure." Lin Yifei frowned. He's afraid that the other person hadn't touched a sabre for a long time judging from his lifestyle. Even for a world-renowned expert, how many percent of their peak level could they retain?

"Good, if you can take a point from me, I'll teach you." He left Lin Yifei with a swaying figure.

His fingers unnaturally folded and clenched. His bones rattle due to force.

Alvin Chelsea looked down on him. This wasn't something to be angry about. When Chelsea was the top champion, the entire world wasn't even in his eyes.

But today, five years after retiring from competition due to injury, the drunk Alvin Chelsea was still arrogant.

"Do you want some coffee to sober up?" Lin Yifei asked, lowering his voice.

"No, I'm afraid that if I'm sober, you won't even have a chance to take a point from me." His voice still sounded languid, but it angered Lin Yifei.

Kevin turned on the light in the living room. Chelsea stretched out his hand to cover his eyes. His blurred eyes gradually focused. The entire living room was very messy, full of garbage and wine bottles.

"Oh my god, I remember that a helper come to help you clean up every day. Although you paid her, you can't exploit her labor force like this, can you?" Kevin jokingly removed all the bottles from the competition space.

Lin Yifei put down his backpack and pulled on his protective gear.

"Aren't you changing?"

"Why should I?" Chelsea hissed, "It will only slow your movement and limit your sight. Kid, if you don't want anyone to hit you, don't take up the sabre."

Lin Yifei frowned. He held his sabre and saluted. Although Chelsea had no respect for him, he would still respect his opponent. "Then try to see if I can't really hit you."

"Isn't that right?" Chelsea's voice just fell, and his sabre stabbed in an instant.

All of his nerves suddenly tightened. The beating of his heart was frozen. Lin Yifei barely escaped with a gap of 0.01 second.

"Yes –" Chelsea smiled. There was no recognition or mockery in his voice. His second attack followed.

Lin Yifei reluctantly dodged but he didn't expect the other side to hit him using a big stride that made him staggered back two steps. He almost fell to the ground.

"Kid." Chelsea raised his chin and fingered the blade. "The warm-up is over. Are you ready to die?"

Although Chelsea and Kevin had completely different personalities when dealing with people at ordinary times, when they pick up their sabre, they had a very similar momentum – to completely destroy their rival.

In the next few seconds, Lin Yifei's heart was almost always squeezed. His breathing was suppressed in his chest and couldn't be released. Even his limbs seemed to be bound until the sabre struck his shoulder.

"Boy, do you still need to continue?" Chelsea belched.

"Of course." Lin Yifei stretched out his hand and fiddled with his sabre, posing his ready stance.

Just at the moment Kevin motioned for start, he stepped out. He crossed to attack the other with an exquisite angle, then lunged to thrust in after a feint, which Chelsea saw through as expected by Lin Yifei. He then controlled the sabre to meet Chelsea's and continued to hit his shoulder.

Although this attack wasn't as powerful as Chelsea's, it's very fluid and seamlessly connected all the moves.

"I already got one point." Lin Yifei coldly spoke.

Chelsea stood there, still shaking, but his eyes remained on Lin Yifei's face.

"Hey, kid, what's your name."

"Lin Yifei."

Chelsea looked back at Kevin and grinned, "Kevin, is it lonely to stand at the top? So that you're desperate to train your opponent?"

The sentence was in Italian. Lin Yifei couldn't understand it.

"I'm just fascinated by his fencing moves." Kevin also responded in Italian.

"So apart from this child hitting me, what else can attract me to teach him wholeheartedly?" Chelsea shrugged his shoulders. He leaned back against the wall and picked up a bottle of half-drunk red wine.

Kevin closed his eyes. The smile on his lips was perfect.

"A lot of people can only look up to the height that you have reached. But I know you're not satisfied. You want to go higher and farther. Now you've fallen. But this child can help you go where you want to go." Kevin walked to the front of Chelsea. He knelt on one knee and looked straight into Chelsea's intoxicated eyes. "He will beat me and beat those younger generations who are higher and farther than you are. Don't you want to see?"

The entire space quieted down. Two seconds later Chelsea lazily raised his arm. "All right, I'll teach him."

The second half of the month was the period when Lin Yifei and Chelsea get used to each other.

The place where they practice fencing was Kevin's private fencing room rented in the club.

Soon, Lin Yifei understood that Chelsea's agreement wasn't a big favor, but the beginning of another ordeal.

"I have never seen a slow-moving guy like you. Are you a turtle? A turtle moves faster than you."

"Who taught you this time must use cross step. Another child destroyed by dogmatism."

"Oh my god, you're still thinking of fighting back with your sabre. I really don't know if you underestimate me or overestimate yourself."

Every time Lin Yifei trained with Chelsea, it's the most difficult time for him.

Chelsea was like a mountain that couldn't be surmounted. Facing him, Lin Yifei had an illusion of being overwhelmed.

Despite exhaustion, Lin Yifei never showed signs of being late or tired when receiving instructions from Chelsea.

Until one day a week later, Kevin finished training and came to the fencing club to see them.

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"Hey, let's see if this kid has made any progress." Chelsea pointed a sabre at Kevin.

"Good, I'll give it a try." Kevin methodically took off his coat and put on his protective gear.

This wasn't a formal competition. Kevin's role was more like a sparring partner.  

When Kevin's sabre came down on his mask with overwhelming force, Lin Yifei knew that…he was as sharp as ever and treated this like a competition.

"How many times have I told you! Don't think about how to defend and fight back! That's what you imagined in your mind before you faced your opponent! It's important not to only think when you fight! By the time you figure out how to avoid Kevin's attack and then how to counterattack, the match is over!" Chelsea roared outside the court, without the patience of a fencer.

Lin Yifei breathed out a sigh of relief. This ran counter to what his coach said before his rebirth. He always told him to think well, to be cautious and to win in moderation.

"The athletic field is a battlefield. It isn't a textbook." Kevin agreed with Chelsea on this point. He raised the sabre in his hand, meaning that Lin Yifei should come again.

Compared with those technical moves, Chelsea wanted to overturn Lin Yifei's thinking when holding his sabre. He wanted him to be himself and abandon the dogma, which was totally different from those so-called when to "transfer the fight" or "return the fight back".

But it was this change that suddenly made Lin Yifei feel that fencing had become an extremely free and refreshing sport.

When Lin Yifei's sabre opened Kevin's attack and hit him in the chest, time came to an abrupt stop.

The entire fencing room was so quiet that the two people could hear their heavy breathing.

Suddenly, applause broke out.

"Boy…what words should I use to describe your attack?" Chelsea smiled. The slight folds in the corners of his eyes showed a profound charm. "One small step on the moon, one giant step for mankind?"

Lin Yifei breathed out a long sigh of relief. If Kevin Phil was a mountain peak, he finally climbed on the first rock.

"Victory is very important to you? It let you endure my taunts all the time? I heard that Chinese people have high self-esteem." Chelsea came up and took Lin Yifei's sabre to touch its tip.

Lin Yifei didn't answer him but sat down and lowered his head. "Maybe I just want to win over someone."

"Is that guy really good?" Chelsea asked dismissively.

"Yes, he's great."

"Is he better than Kevin?" Chelsea pointed to Kevin behind him.

"Not now, but he will definitely be better than him." Lin Yifei looked up at Kevin with a firmness that ordinary people couldn't understand.

A few minutes later, Lin Yifei stood up with his sabre, "Let's continue!"

"I don't want to. I'm tired. I want to drink beer." Chelsea laid directly on the ground, closing his eyes and looking sleepy.

"Stop it." Lin Yifei felt a bit funny. Looking at Kevin not far away, he hoped that the other would say a few words.

But Kevin shook his head. He knew Chelsea very well. This guy was stubborn. No one could talk him into doing anything.

"I've been practicing with you for almost a week. Now I just want to drink a few cans of beer." Some people have said that Chelsea's life after retirement was to soak in alcohol, and this life had lasted for five years. Even if he still showed a lot of momentum in the match against Lin Yifei, how could he be the same as during his prime, before he injured his shoulder?

"Alcoholism is bad for your health." Kevin said.

"Boy, you sound like my grandmother."

"I only have one week before training starts. There'll be qualifying matches in the team. I don't want to waste time."

"Something are predestined, son. It's like my shoulder injury. It's like you don't have a good coach but you get Kevin's favor and found me, this alcoholic, as your coach. Sometimes, even if we struggle hard, we can't get results."

"What I want isn't result. I just want to do it." Lin Yifei looked at the other while thinking about what kind of setback would make Alvin Chelsea, the world's top champion, believed in something similar to "fate".