Chapter 76: What? Sword Qi?!

Seeing Old Li boast so highly of himself, Chen Huaian couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation.

"Kid, watch closely, this move of mine is super cool!" With that, Old Li assumed a stance and began performing a Tai Chi sword routine, starting slow, speeding up, and then slowing down again.

As expected of the old man, his sword technique was truly impressive.

At least, that's how it seemed to Chen Huaian, given his limited understanding and appreciation of such arts.

Old Li's swordplay was indeed graceful, showcasing his deep foundation and seamless execution without a single hiccup. It even seemed practical enough for actual combat? However, it still felt more like a performance.

Chen couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he felt some of the movements were unnecessary. Removing or replacing them might have been better. But he wasn't a master himself, so he didn't dare to criticize.

"So, how was it? Impressive enough?" Old Li stroked his beard, sheathed his sword, and wore a proud expression, ready to receive Chen Huaian's 3000-word praise.

"Not bad, very sword-like!" Chen Huaian gave a thumbs-up.

Old Li frowned, "What? You think my sword technique is lacking?"

"No, no," Chen knew Old Li had misunderstood but didn't know how to explain. He scratched his head and said, "Old Li, I've recently had some insights of my own. Would you mind taking a look?"

"Sure, but if there are any flaws, I won't hold back."

"Got it. Mind if I borrow your sword?"

Chen Huaian took the sword from Old Li, calmed his mind, closed his eyes slightly, steadied his stance, and assumed the posture of the first chapter of the Qinglian Sword Manual, "Crane Stands."

The moment he began, Old Li's critical eyes widened in shock.

It was as if Chen had become a completely different person overnight. Not only had his leg healed, but his movements, which had been amateurish just days ago, were now fluid and natural. Most importantly, he had grasped the most crucial element—'Spirit.'

The reason modern martial arts are often mocked is that they tend to be mere imitations of form, lacking the essential 'Spirit.'

True martial arts require both form and spirit, with spirit being far more important.

Why did ancient soldiers repeatedly practice thrusting?

It was through countless repetitions that they sought the moment of breakthrough and understanding.

How to exert force for a more powerful thrust, the optimal angle to pierce armor, how to overcome resistance—all these became instinctive reactions, marking the birth of 'Spirit.'

Building upon this foundation, one could continue to break through and gain insights in the heat of battle.

A rookie soldier who mastered a single thrust imbued with 'Spirit' could rise to become a centurion or even a millenary commander. Generals were warriors who had mastered multiple 'Spirit' techniques.

As Old Li pondered this, Chen Huaian had already completed the first twelve chapters of the sword manual. What began as fixed movements gradually transformed into graceful sword techniques—thrusts, slashes, and parries—executed with ease and precision.

For a moment, Old Li seemed to see a white-clad swordsman dancing with a sword in one hand and a wine jug in the other, wild and unrestrained, like a soaring dragon.

"This... how is this possible?"

Old Li was dumbfounded.

This kid was no novice.

He was a master!

No, even the masters he had met couldn't infuse 'Spirit' into so many movements! Many masters were renowned for mastering just two or three techniques with 'Spirit.'

But who was this kid?

Suddenly, the graceful figure in his vision came to an abrupt halt.

Chen Huaian stood tall, eyes closed, sheathing his sword. His left hand held the scabbard, while his right rested on the hilt.

A breeze blew by, carrying a sharp, cutting aura.

"Like a meteor, the white feather is sheathed at my waist; the sword's bloom, a lotus of autumn light emerges from its case."

As the words fell, the sword was drawn.

Clang—!

Old Li couldn't even see Chen Huaian's sword.

All he saw was a flash of bright light in the sunlight, shattering into pieces like a blooming autumn lotus.

With the hiss of the sword, the lotus petals crumbled and withered.

And with a metallic clang, Chen Huaian sheathed his sword once more.

Old Li stared at Chen in stunned silence, his throat constricted, unable to utter a sound. His mind was buzzing.

Was this a sword technique a young man could execute?

That autumn lotus—was it a sword flower?

How much wrist strength and speed would that require?

How many years of practice had been poured into those sword moves?

"Not quite there yet..." Chen Huaian sighed, shaking his head as he looked at the old poplar tree before him.

His original goal had been to cut off a branch of the tree. Although Old Li's sword wasn't sharpened, he thought even a child could manage it with proper aim.

Yet, the branch still swayed in the wind.

"Well, I should be satisfied with having some semblance of the moves from the game," Chen Huaian realized.

He had worn a gaming helmet earlier, and through neural mapping technology, some of the sword techniques from the game had been imprinted in his mind.

That's why he had been so fluid today.

Chen checked the time—it was almost nine. He hadn't realized how long the sword routine had taken.

"Old Li, it's getting late. I need to head to the market, so I'll take my leave now~"

He handed the sword back to the still-dazed Old Li, helping him grip the scabbard properly before turning and walking away.

It took a while for Old Li to snap out of his trance.

Without a word, he approached the poplar tree with a serious expression.

His eyes weren't on the branches but on the trunk, carefully searching and feeling with his fingers.

Soon, he found a deep sword mark on the thick trunk, as thin as a strand of hair. Had he not felt it with his fingers, he might have missed it entirely.

Old Li took a deep breath, his facial muscles twitching, his eyes filled with disbelief.

He circled to the other side of the tree.

At the corresponding position, he found another hair-thin mark.

"Sword Qi... Could it really be Sword Qi?!"

Old Li trembled as he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

A rough, smoky voice answered:

[Hey, Old Li, it's been a while. Did you forget about your old friend?]

"Old Peng, I need to tell you something. Brace yourself," Old Li ignored the teasing tone. "I just met a young man who can wield Sword Qi!"

[What!?]

The voice on the other end rose an octave.

[Are you sure?]

"Absolutely," Old Li traced the sword mark on the tree, his voice shaking. "Right in front of me, it was like—'whoosh'—he cut straight through the trunk!"

[Old Li, stay where you are. I'm coming over from the Demon-Slaying Bureau right now!]

Meanwhile.

In a small alley beneath a hotel.

Lin Lingling limped out, maintaining her usual expressionless calm, though the occasional twitch of her face betrayed the pain she was enduring.

"That demon was no ordinary foe. Its demonic aura alone was enough to immobilize me, and it didn't even need to touch me to send me flying..."

Lin Lingling had never encountered such a powerful demon.

At least, not among the ones she had heard of.

"Ugh—! Damn it, at least three ribs are broken! This is way beyond my level as a White-Rank. I need to report this to the Demon-Slaying Bureau..."

She flagged down a taxi on the street and climbed in, dragging her agonized body inside.

...

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