It’s easy to call yourself a martial artist these days. It’s easier still to call yourself an instructor. With the right lighting, a few well-placed quotes, and some borrowed flair from books or YouTube, anyone can cosplay as a killer. But once the real work starts, once someone asks for a hands-on demonstration or a pressure test, that house of cards usually folds.

Unless, of course, they’ve built an aura.

A myth.

An image.

See, there’s a whole subculture of self-appointed warlords who thrive on unearned notoriety. How many videos are out there now claiming to feature underground prison fight champions? Undefeated knife fighters? Shadow warriors who slipped between worlds to replace the Green Berets as the go-to mythical badasses of the modern age?

It’s laughable.

But worse than that, it’s dangerous.

I’ve made my position clear: I’m nobody special. I’m not law enforcement. I’ve never worn the uniform of any military. I’m not even a court officer, which, amusingly, someone once used in a limp-wristed attempt to discredit me.

But here’s the thing: I am who I say I am.

No gimmicks.

No inflated claims.

Just a man who took the hand he was dealt and turned it into a working set of tools.Every chance I had to train, I took it.

Hours in the car.

Days rearranged.

I chased education that couldn’t be found in strip mall dojos or weekend warrior courses. I trained with instructors most people wouldn’t recognize, but who taught me more in ten minutes of honesty than some lineage name-droppers do in a lifetime.

Let me be clear, when I say lineage doesn’t mean shit, that doesn’t mean training doesn’t mean shit. There’s a difference.Training is the pressure. The friction. The slow shaping of skill under resistance.Lineage is a family crest. It might look good on a certificate, but it doesn’t fight for you.

If you’re serious about your martial path, whether as an artist or a martialist, it needs to live in you. Not just as a once-a-week hobby. Not as a conversation piece. It should shape the way you move, think, and evaluate the world.Most frauds can’t go deep. They operate in clichés and stolen catchphrases.

They’ll say things like “well, it’s all situational,” or “on the street, it’d be different”, and leave it at that.

No further explanation.

Nonsense designed to shield the fact they’ve never been in a situation or seen what they can do.

Even Frank Dux and Ashida Kim still rake in cash with their nonsense. Selling secret scrolls, fantasy kata, and levitating ninja death vibes to true believers who want magic more than they want truth.

But here’s the truth:

Ninjas don’t look like ninjas.

But a fraud?

You can spot them a mile away.

So, if you’re out there teaching, ask yourself: Are you passing along something you’ve lived, something you’ve tested, or are you just reading someone else’s script?

And if you’re learning, demand more. Not titles. Not tales. Not certificates. Demand truth, depth, and accountability.

Because shallow water might feel safe, but it’s the first place the sharks go hunting. And frauds? They can’t swim.