Sword Puppet

Miao Ying's hands flickered in a snarling blur of arcane sword mudras, lightning-wreathed Sword Qi coalescing around his extended fingertips. 

The 9th Stage disciples' vaunted strength was as a flickering candle before the snarling inferno of his power.

Incandescent flares of sword-light blazed amidst desperate howls as they unsheathed their spirit-swords to mount a frantic defense, unfurling the full potency of their Qi Seed and Qi Seas to meet Miao Ying's assault head-on, an all-out strike that could have scoured legions of lesser cultivators from the earth.

Yet before Miao Ying, that frenzied storm of sword-light may as well have been the buzzing of mayflies for all the threat it posed.

He tore through their light-wreathed blades like a thunderbolt sundering a rotting tree, shattering their spirit-swords into motes of glittering ephemera. 

And then his Qi-wreathed fingers were slamming into their chests with the implacable fury of colliding mountains.

Ribs cracked like dry kindling. Organs ruptured and flesh tore. Blood sprayed in crimson gouts as the disciples were blasted off their feet, rag-dolled by Miao Ying's overwhelming might. 

They smashed into the cratered earth with bone-pulverizing force, ruined bodies rag-dolling limply across the shattered ground until they fetched up against a shattered boulder, broken and insensate.

Amidst the settling debris, Miao Ying stood tall, not a hair out of place. A razor smile of savage satisfaction curved his lips as he gazed upon his handiwork with ruthless aplomb.

In the aftermath of that shockingly brief confrontation, a leaden silence blanketed the area, the half-step Houtian experts staring at Miao Ying with unabashed incredulity. 

A 2nd Stage Qi Establishment disciple, annihilating a pair of 9th Stage experts as easily as an adult smashing children? 

It defied all logic and reason! 

Could it be that his cultivation was a mere facade, and that his true power had already broached that legendary half-step Houtian threshold?

But Miao Ying disregarded their incredulous stares, turning his attention to the towering construct awaiting him at the end of the path. 

A hulking humanoid figure hewn from glittering spirit stone, it wielded a titanic blade that radiated sword-qi of its own, an indomitable sentinel barring the path of the unworthy.

As Miao Ying's Qi breached the boundaries of its sword presence, the construct rumbled to life, ponderous eyes igniting with baleful inner light as it stirred from its silent repose. 

With a ponderous inevitability, it oriented to face him directly, Miao Ying sensing its implacably judgmental regard fall upon him like a leaden shroud.

Miao Ying glanced at Xue Qingcheng, pointedly ignoring the other half-step Houtain disciple who knelt beside their broken fellows, attempting to stabilize their condition. 

"This is one of the major roadblocks, I take it?" he asked, nodding at the puppet. "We're meant to defeat it to proceed?"

Xue Qingcheng hesitated before nodding, something like genuine respect finally kindling in her eyes as she witnessed Miao Ying's composure. "Just so, Junior Brother. But it's not merely a test of martial strength. To triumph, one must demonstrate superior mastery of the Sword Dao—to disarm the puppet by striking its weapon from its grasp."

"Is that so?" Amusement danced in Miao Ying's eyes. "Interesting. Let us hope it proves more of a challenge than these dregs you call disciples."

With a flicker of thought, his spirit-sword materialized in his waiting grasp, the exquisite blade birthed from his spatial ring amid a surge of kaleidoscopic radiance. 

If the aura Miao Ying exuded before had been formidable, with the addition of his sword it became nothing short of asphyxiating, a snarling tempest of sword-intent and thunderous wrath that whipped out in a cascading wave to crash upon the boundaries of the construct's domain.

Xue Qingcheng and the other disciples flinched back reflexively, shock and disbelief warring in their eyes as the fullness of Miao Ying's cultivation crashed over them with an almost physical weight. 

A heartbeat later, the sword-puppet stirred in earnest, flowing into a guard stance as its own aura unfurled to meet Miao Ying's own, an avalanche of sword presence bearing down to crush all opposition.

Yet amidst that storm of scything power, Miao Ying's perception remained preternaturally clear, honed to an impossible acuity by his Heavenly Cosmic Sword Art and Sword Intent Condensation cultivation. 

In that singular moment, the world fell away. His entire existence narrowed down to the all-consuming focus of blade and foe.

With eyes that could pierce the very mysteries of the Dao, Miao Ying perceived the intricate tapestry of sword qi woven around his foe's weapon. Imperfections leaped out at him in stark relief, infinitesimal weaknesses in the construct's Qi flow that even the most talented young sword experts would be hard-pressed to discern. 

Yet to Miao Ying they may as well have been cracks spiderwebbing across the face of a frosted pane, glaring vulnerabilities begging to be exploited.

In that instant of perfect clarity, Miao Ying divined his win condition with the absolute certainty of Heavenly inspiration.

He exploded into motion; a golden meteor wreathed in coruscating lightning. His sword scythed out in a snarling arc, lightning-qi and sword-intent fusing seamlessly into a singular storm of destruction.

The puppet blurred into motion an instant later, its titanic blade whistling through the air to meet Miao Ying's own, an avalanche of sword-qi poised to crush the impudent junior like an insect. 

Shockwaves tore at the earth as the force of that mighty blow lashed out, potent enough to pulverize stone and shake mountains.

But there could be only one outcome to this clash.

In a deafening thunderclap of rending metal, Miao Ying's sword-strike sheared clean through the puppet's blade at its weakest point. With a piercing screech, the sword shattered like glass, steel shards fountaining away in a hail of sparking shrapnel.

In that frozen moment, the puppet's movements stilled, its sword-qi sputtering out like a dying ember caught in a tempest. Its wooden frame, moments ago a blur of deadly motion, now stood rigid and unmoving, as if paralyzed by some unseen force. 

Slowly, almost ponderously, it lowered its arms as it stepped back, an act of silent submission in the face of Miao Ying's undeniable mastery.

Miao Ying stood amidst the settling dust, his own blade still thrumming with barely restrained power. The ghost of a smile flickered across his lips, a momentary crack in his impassive facade. 

In his eyes, dark and fathomless, the fading embers of sword-qi danced like captured lightning, a testament to the unfathomable depths of his power.

The others could only stare in mute astonishment, their minds struggling to process what they had just witnessed. 

The 9th stage disciples, their faces pale and slack-jawed, looked as if they had seen a ghost, while even the lofty half-step Houtian geniuses seemed shaken, their usual air of unflappable confidence replaced by a wary respect.

"Well?" Miao Ying's voice was calm, almost nonchalant as if he had not just achieved the impossible. "Is there something on my face?"

Xue Qingcheng was the first to find her voice, her eyes narrowing as she studied Miao Ying with a newfound intensity. "That technique... it was no mere feat of strength, was it? You struck at the puppet's weakest point, exploiting a flaw in its qi circulation. But to do so with such precision, in the heat of battle...just how deep does your understanding of the sword dao run, Junior Brother Miao?"

There was a hunger in her voice, a thirst for knowledge that Miao Ying recognized all too well. He inclined his head, a gesture of acknowledgment and respect. 

"You are perceptive. Indeed, true mastery of the sword lies not in brute force, but in the ability to perceive and exploit the subtle vulnerabilities in an opponent's qi flow. With sufficient understanding of the underlying principles, one can achieve much with minimal effort."

He spoke with the easy confidence of one who had long since internalized such truths, for whom the intricacies of the dao were as natural as breathing. 

The others could only listen in awed silence, their minds grappling with the implications of his words.

In truth, Miao Ying knew that none of them, not even the vaunted half-step Houtian experts, had so much as glimpsed the profound mysteries he spoke of. 

To condense one's sword intent, to infuse one's very being with the essence of the blade...it was a realm beyond the ken of all but the most enlightened masters. 

Even among the Houtian stage, those who had taken the first steps on that path were vanishingly rare.

But Xue Qingcheng... there was something different about her, a spark of true understanding that set her apart from the rest. 

Miao Ying could see it in the way her eyes shone with a fierce, unquenchable curiosity, in the way her sword-qi thrummed with a purity and focus that belied her cultivation level.