BDSMST -Chapter 108 Gu Yan Becomes the “Martial Instructor”

Early the next morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, all the children were gathered on the open ground in front of the school—including those few yawning, reluctant young nobles.

Today’s teacher was Gu Yan.

He wore a sleek black martial outfit. Tall and upright, he radiated authority without raising his voice. Just by standing there, an invisible pressure fell over the previously noisy group, and silence spread instantly.

The children felt a bit nervous. They were used to seeing the usually stern marquis, but this morning, he looked particularly commanding.

“From today onward, I will be responsible for your morning exercises,” Gu Yan said, his voice low but carrying the sharp resonance of steel and battle. “Reading helps you understand principles, but a strong body is the foundation of everything. What you are learning is not only physical strength but also the cultivation of your will.”

He didn’t preach or give long speeches—he began teaching immediately.

“First exercise: standing postures.”

He demonstrated personally: knees slightly bent, hands crossed in front of the chest, shoulders down, elbows heavy, and breath sinking. A simple stance, yet he stood as steady as a mountain, solid and unshakable.

“Stand like this for the length of one incense stick,” he commanded.

The children imitated him, wobbling awkwardly into position.

At first, they found it novel. But before half a tea cup of time had passed, complaints began.

“Marquis… my legs hurt.”

“I can’t… I’m going to collapse.”

Especially Wang Xiaopang. Already heavy, his center of gravity was unstable; his legs trembled like sieves, sweat pouring down his forehead.

“If you can’t persist, you won’t get breakfast today,” Gu Yan said coldly, without a hint of warmth.

At the mention of missing breakfast, every child gritted their teeth and held firm.

Gu Yan walked among the rows, correcting each child’s posture.

He approached a small, thin boy whose body swayed dangerously, almost tipping over. Gu Yan didn’t catch him—he simply placed a single finger lightly against the boy’s lower back.

“Straighten your waist, sink your breath down.”

Feeling the stabilizing force, the boy miraculously regained his balance.

He moved to Gu Xuan, whose face was flushed red, but whose eyes were determined. Gu Yan merely glanced at him and calmly said, “Bend your knees a little more.”

Finally, he came to Wang Xiaopang, who was almost collapsing to the ground.

“Stand up,” Gu Yan said, emotionless.

“I… I really can’t…” Wang Xiaopang whimpered, on the verge of tears.

“Stand up,” Gu Yan repeated, this time his voice firmer.

Startled, Wang Xiaopang shivered. Summoning strength from somewhere, he managed to straighten himself a little.

The time of one incense stick felt like a century for these children.

When Uncle Fu announced the end, almost every child collapsed to the ground with a thud, gasping for breath.

Although exhausted and disheveled, they had all persisted.

“Very good,” Gu Yan finally allowed a hint of praise to show on his face. “Now, go eat.”

The children struggled to their feet, helping one another toward the dining hall. To their surprise, though their legs ached and felt numb, walking felt steadier than ever before.

That morning, everyone ate with exceptional appetite.

After the morning exercises, Gu Yan didn’t stop there. He selected fifty strong and reliable young adults from the village to form a formal guard squad.

Some were retired soldiers, others sturdy and capable hunters.

His training for them was a hundred times stricter than for the children.

Standing postures, running, hand-to-hand combat, archery… everything was conducted according to military standards.

He personally taught them a simple but practical set of combat techniques, with broad, decisive movements—each strike and maneuver designed to neutralize enemies and ensure survival.

On the training ground, Gu Yan moved like a lion patrolling its territory.

“Punch faster! Power comes from your waist!”

“Where are your eyes looking? Your enemy won’t give you a second chance!”

“If you fall, get up! No one waits on the battlefield!”

His shouts echoed across the training field.

The young men grumbled constantly, exhausted to the bone after each session, yet none of them quit.

They all saw that, no matter the wind or rain, the Marquis trained alongside them, doing more than anyone else, pushing himself harder than anyone.

And they could clearly feel themselves growing stronger each day, their reflexes sharper. The transformation was real and tangible.

By evening, Jiang Suisui brought him a restorative medicinal soup.

She saw Gu Yan practicing punches shirtless in the courtyard. His body was covered in a crisscross of scars—each one a story of life-and-death survival. Sweat ran along his defined muscles, gleaming bronze in the sunset light.

He didn’t notice her, completely immersed in his own world. The rushing wind from his fists carried a fierce, cutting energy.

Jiang Suisui stood quietly, watching.

She knew this man was, at his core, a tiger born for battle. The court and officialdom had always been a cage restraining him.

But here, in this open land, teaching children and training soldiers, he had found his truest self.

When he finished his set and came to a stop, he finally noticed his wife standing nearby.

He walked over, took the medicinal soup from her, and drank it in one gulp.

“Tired?” Jiang Suisui asked, taking a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Not tired,” Gu Yan said, his gaze softening, “fulfilled.”

He took her hand, sitting beside her on a stone bench in the courtyard, watching the training ground in the distance.

The guard squad continued practicing on their own. The children were scattered across the schoolyard, pairing off to mimic the horse stances they’d learned during the day, laughing and playing.

The entire Woniu Village glowed with vitality, peace, and harmony in the sunset light.

“Master Gu!” In the distance, Gu Xuan and a few friends called out to him, then ran off giggling.

“Master Gu?” Jiang Suisui repeated the title with a smile.

“That’s what they call me now,” Gu Yan said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He liked this title more than “Marquis.”

“Marquis” represented power and distance, while “Master” represented guidance and trust.

Looking at all of this, he felt a sense of peace he had never experienced. What he was protecting wasn’t just a family—it was hope growing strong.

At that moment, a guard ran up hurriedly, his expression uneasy.

“Marquis, Madam… that Young Master Bai… he’s here again.”