The Sword Soars Like a Stunning Swan

At the first light of dawn, the sky displayed a unique hue—a blend of deep blue and pale gray. I woke up early, moving quietly as I washed and dressed, careful not to wake Su Li, who was still asleep. The embarrassment of yesterday's pill refining, mixed with the joy of eventual success, had kept my thoughts busy until late into the night. Yet this morning, I felt no fatigue at all; rather, I was alert and awake long before the sun had fully risen.

Just as I was about to leave, Su Li emerged from her room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Sister Wei, you're awake already?" she yawned softly, "I want to go along too."

"Stay in bed a little longer, it's still early," I replied in a gentle tone.

But Su Li shook her head, quickly finished her washing, and joined me as we headed towards the Qingxin Hall.

"Today's sword technique lesson is taught by Elder Zhang Renqing, the deputy leader of Qingwei Peak," Su Li said enthusiastically as she hurried to catch up with me. "He is one of the foremost masters of swordsmanship in the Tianyan Sect. It is said that with one stroke his sword could split mountains and rivers, and ten years ago, he single-handedly battled the three demons of Jiuyou Valley—and emerged unscathed."

In the early morning, the Tianyan Sect was shrouded in mist, resembling a celestial realm. We walked along a stone pathway flanked by ancient, towering trees, their leaves bejeweled with dewdrops sparkling in the morning light. In the distance, the crisp chirping of birds mingled with the resonant toll of a bell from the mountains, painting a picture of perfect harmony.

Yet, in front of the Qingxin Hall, the atmosphere was unusually bustling. Nearly all the new disciples had arrived early, gathering in small groups, whispering excitedly amongst themselves.

"It seems everyone is quite interested in today's sword lesson," Su Li murmured.

I scanned the crowd, my eyes subconsciously searching for that flash of white, but found nothing. I recalled that last night, Sister Moqing had departed in haste, and that the attendant from the Caizang Peak herbal garden mentioned she was to meet the sect master. Uncertain of what had happened, a trace of worry stirred within me, but it wasn't appropriate to ask; I resolved instead to visit her after class today.

Lost in thought, I was suddenly interrupted by the sound of slicing through the air. A middle-aged man approached, stepping on his sword. Though his appearance was unremarkable, his eyes shone as brightly as stars, and an aura of quiet sharpness emanated from him.

"Elder Zhang has arrived!" announced one of the attendants in a loud voice.

The disciples immediately fell silent and bowed in unison, "Greetings, Elder Zhang!"

Zhang Renqing nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over the assembled disciples. "Everyone, follow me," he said in a voice that, though not loud, was full of vigor and clearly reached every ear.

We followed Elder Zhang to a vast open area behind the Qingxin Hall. The ground was paved with a special blue stone and enclosed by low railings, with several wooden stakes erected in the center—apparently a dedicated space for practicing sword techniques. Along one side, a weapon rack displayed various long swords in neat order, each gleaming with a cold, sharp light.

"Do you know why the sword is given such prominence among the many weapons of our Tianyan Sect?" Elder Zhang stood in the center of the field, his eyes like lightning as he scanned every disciple.

The disciples exchanged glances, and none dared to answer impulsively.

"Because the sword is not merely a weapon—it is a symbol of the Way." Elder Zhang's voice suddenly deepened, as if echoing from ancient times, "Its straight blade represents integrity; its sharp edge, unadorned by charm, signifies the resolute spirit of cultivation; its light yet resilient form symbolizes a flexible nature; and its formless emergence embodies the ethereal essence of the Dao."

He strode slowly to the center of the field, his right hand gently caressing the long sword at his waist, and continued, "At the founding of the Tianyan Sect, our venerable founder established the principle of 'cultivating the Dao through the sword.' The sword is the king of all arms; its wielder must embody the virtues of a gentleman—championing righteousness, cutting down demons, and safeguarding peace. The sword can both kill and save; harm an enemy or foster self-reflection. To master the sword is, in truth, to master oneself."

Hearing this, I couldn't help but recall my father's teachings: "The sword is not for killing, but for self-cultivation; the Dao is not for immortality, but for enlightenment." His words resonated perfectly with Elder Zhang's.

Elder Zhang waved his hand, and the disciples behind him promptly stepped forward to receive their practice swords.

"Today, I shall first teach you the fundamental sword technique—the 'Thirteen Styles of the Gentle Breeze'," Elder Zhang announced from the center of the field. "Though basic, this form encapsulates the very essence of Tianyan swordsmanship. Mastery of it will lay a solid foundation for learning more profound techniques in the future."

I accepted a plain practice sword, choosing not to use the Zidian Sword that Su Li had given me the previous day. This sword was of moderate weight and unremarkable in appearance, but perfectly adequate for learning the basics. The blue sword sheath my father had left me still hung at my waist, lending me a sense of comfort.

"'Thirteen Styles of the Gentle Breeze'—named for its evocation of tranquility and effortless movement," Elder Zhang said as he stood in the center and slowly unsheathed his long sword. "This form emphasizes grace and agility, much like a breeze that appears formless yet conceals deadly intent."

He began by demonstrating the first move, "Gentle Breeze Piercing the Pines." With his right hand holding the sword and his left raised slightly, he leaned forward subtly, and his long sword thrust forward like flowing clouds and water—light and agile, yet imbued with underlying strength. "This is the opening move, requiring a seamless, natural flow, where the sword follows the whim of the heart," he explained.

Next came the second move, "Wind Shaking the Emerald Bamboo." With a sudden change in the sword's trajectory, it mimicked a gentle breeze caressing a bamboo grove, causing the leaves to sway lightly. "This move emphasizes adaptability. Although the sword's form is fixed, its variations are endless—it must change in response to the enemy's moves," he remarked.

Elder Zhang demonstrated all thirteen styles in a continuous, fluid sequence, each move as graceful as flowing water, eliciting frequent exclamations of admiration from the disciples.

"Now, everyone, disperse and practice the first move, 'Gentle Breeze Piercing the Pines,' as I have shown," Elder Zhang said as he re-sheathed his sword and surveyed the group.

The disciples quickly scattered to begin their practice. I found a quiet corner, gripped my long sword, and recalled Elder Zhang's demonstration, imitating his movements. Although the Jieling Sword Technique my father had taught me differed from the Gentle Breeze form, its fundamental principles were akin: the sword tip pointed forward, the body leaned subtly, inner energy flowed into the blade, and a gentle thrust was executed—what seemed simple on the surface, yet concealed the four cardinal principles of swordsmanship: stability, precision, lightness, and speed.

I became deeply absorbed in practice, repeating the seemingly simple yet profound opening move over and over. Each strike grew smoother and more natural than the last. Gradually, I entered a wondrous state where it felt as though I and the sword had merged into one, my inner energy flowing harmoniously between body and blade, achieving a delicate equilibrium.

"Wei Lingwei," Elder Zhang said, having quietly come to stand beside me. His eyes flashed with a hint of surprise, "It seems you have a deep understanding of swordsmanship."

I sheathed my sword and bowed. "My father taught me some rudimentary sword techniques."

"Oh?" Elder Zhang's eyes glimmered with curiosity. "Could you demonstrate a move or two so that I may observe?"

After a brief hesitation, I nodded in agreement. Taking two steps back, I gripped my long sword tightly, drew a deep breath, and began to perform the most basic moves of the Jieling Sword Technique that my father had taught me. The sword flashed like a rainbow, its momentum like a torrent—each move as swift as lightning, blending hardness with softness, embodying the essence of Tianyan swordsmanship while remaining uniquely my own.

A peculiar glimmer passed through Elder Zhang's eyes—part surprise, part reminiscence, as though he recognized something. Once I had finished and stood still, he remained silent for a long while before finally saying softly, "Not bad—your fundamentals are solid. Continue practicing the Thirteen Styles of the Gentle Breeze, and come to me if you encounter any problems."

After speaking, he turned to guide the other disciples, leaving me alone in a state of puzzled contemplation.

For the next two hours, I devoted myself to practicing the Thirteen Styles of the Gentle Breeze, from the first move to the fifth, repeatedly pondering their intricacies. Although this form appeared simple, its variations were boundless, with each move containing profound truths of the sword path. Gradually, I realized that although the Jieling Sword Technique my father taught me was markedly different in style from the Gentle Breeze form, their underlying principles were remarkably similar, hinting at a subtle connection.

Just as I was immersed in practice, a familiar voice sounded from behind: "Sister Wei, your swordsmanship is truly extraordinary."

Turning around, I saw Ye Ming. Clad in a dark cyan robe and with a long sword engraved with dragon patterns at his waist, his bearing was exceptional. A subtle smile played on his lips, yet his eyes shimmered with an enigmatic light.

"Senior Brother Ye, you flatter me," I replied calmly, sheathing my sword and bowing in return.

A sharp, appraising glint flickered in Ye Ming's eyes, though his smile remained unchanged. Glancing around to confirm that Elder Zhang was instructing disciples at the far end of the field, he lowered his voice and asked, "Sister Wei, did you make any discoveries in the Scripture Repository the other day? Particularly regarding the secrets of Taigong?"

I paused momentarily before realization dawned. Ye Ming must have heard about my visit to the Scripture Repository—but he was unaware that I had been to the Mirror Repository, where I obtained the Jietian Sword Diagram, rather than any secrets about Taigong.

"I haven't had a chance to study it in depth yet," I answered cautiously, choosing not to elaborate.

Ye Ming gave me a long, penetrating look before regaining his calm, scholarly demeanor. "Since you are so proficient in swordsmanship, would you be willing to spar with me a bit?"

At these words, the surrounding disciples halted their practice, their eyes wide with anticipation as they watched us. A duel between two prominent disciples was undoubtedly a rare spectacle.

I initially considered declining, but then reasoned that a spar might reveal more about Ye Ming—a benefit that could prove useful for future endeavors.

"Since you extend such a gracious invitation, I shall accompany you," I nodded slightly in agreement.

Under the expectant gaze of everyone, we moved to the open center of the field. Ye Ming unsheathed the long sword at his waist; its blade shone with a cold gleam and faint traces of inner energy swirling within. I, too, drew my practice sword, which, though lacking any inner energy enhancement, remained exceedingly sharp.

"Please, impart your wisdom, Sister Wei," Ye Ming said as he bowed slightly, his eyes alight with a warrior's intent.

I returned the bow without further words, my mind steadily calming. Standing roughly five paces apart, our gazes locked in the space between us, the atmosphere immediately grew tense.

The disciples outside instinctively held their breath, and even Elder Zhang ceased his instruction to watch from the sidelines, his eyes betraying a hint of anticipation.

A flash of cold light passed through Ye Ming's eyes; his right wrist twitched slightly, and his long sword moved like a silver snake spitting forth, instantly striking at the "Queban Acupoint" on my shoulder, about three inches ahead. What appeared as a straightforward thrust concealed intricate subtleties—the sword tip traced a subtle arc in the air, and though the blade's path seemed direct, the sword energy had already split into three streams, forming a trident-like barrier to block any escape.

I remained composed, my eyes flashing like lightning. I took a slight half-step back with my right foot, lowering my center of gravity. With a seemingly casual flick of my sword, I pinpointed the most delicate moment in Ye Ming's sword technique with astonishing precision. At the instant when our sword tips met in midair, a crisp, resonant "clang" rang out, as though that solitary sound of clashing swords filled the heavens and earth. The inner energy from our blades collided fiercely, forming a visible, silver-white wave that swept over the disciples' robes and hair—causing even some of the less experienced to involuntarily retreat a couple of steps.

Ye Ming raised an intrigued eyebrow; it was evident he had not expected me to parry his thrust so easily. Immediately, he altered his technique—the long sword, like a roaming dragon, withdrew and then surged forward, launching three consecutive thrusts, each one faster, fiercer, and more unpredictable than the last.

I focused intently on countering, my sword moving like a sinuous snake—alternating between force and gentleness—to neutralize each of Ye Ming's attacks. Although I wielded only a plain practice sword, the infusion of inner energy enabled it to unleash remarkable power.

"Truly, your swordsmanship is exceptional, Sister," Ye Ming admired, his tone tinged with sincere respect. "It seems it's time to show your true skills."

Suddenly, his form blurred as his speed surged, and the long sword in his hand transformed into several sword silhouettes, launching attacks at me from every angle. This was no ordinary sword technique—it appeared to be his ancestral style, fused with advanced martial formulas.

The disciples around us burst into exclamations of astonishment, clearly not expecting Ye Ming to unleash such formidable moves during our spar.

A chill ran through me—I knew I could not hold back any longer. Though the Jieling Sword Technique my father taught me was incomplete, it proved miraculous when facing formidable opponents. I drew a deep breath, channeling my inner energy to its utmost, and the speed of my sword soared as I met Ye Ming's sword silhouettes head-on.

"Clang, clang, clang!" A series of crisp metallic sounds rang out as sparks seemed to fly from the air. Our figures darted swiftly across the field like interweaving bolts of lightning. The flashing sword light mingled with surging inner energy, creating a dazzling display that left onlookers breathless.

Ye Ming's swordsmanship was both elegant and ingenious, each move imbued with profound mastery of the sword path—a testament to systematic training. In contrast, my technique was succinct and incisive, directly targeting the vital points without any superfluous motion.

"Excellent!" came Elder Zhang's voice of admiration from outside, "I haven't seen such a splendid duel in years!"

At that moment, Ye Ming had become completely earnest. His long sword shone with an intense spiritual glow as he unleashed the move "Hundred Birds Facing the Phoenix." The sword energy transformed into countless bird shapes that attacked me from all directions.

Not daring to underestimate him, I executed the "Rising with the Wind" maneuver from the Jieling Sword Technique to perfection. My body flickered like a phantom, and the long sword in my hand carved out a perfect arc, precisely slicing through the weak point of the bird-formed sword energy, splitting it in two.

The clashing of sword energies produced a tremendous explosive sound, and the ensuing shockwave spread outward, causing the surrounding disciples to stagger back in unison.

"Go, Sister Lingwei, keep it up!" Su Li's voice rang out from the crowd, full of encouragement.

A flash of surprise crossed Ye Ming's eyes—clearly, he hadn't expected me to counter that move. Without hesitation, he immediately unleashed an even more powerful technique: "Azure Dragon Emerges from Water!"

He turned swiftly, his long sword soaring skyward like a roaming dragon, then suddenly diving down, its tip aiming directly for my brow. This move was as fast as lightning and possessed astonishing power—an attack that an ordinary Foundation Establishment cultivator would scarcely be able to counter. I realized that a head-on confrontation would only lead me into his trap.

In that critical moment, inspiration struck. Instead of directly parrying Ye Ming's sword thrust, I took an unexpected action: stepping back half a pace while crouching, and then, with my long sword, executing an upward flick at an almost absurd angle. Though it appeared unmethodical, it successfully evaded the razor edge of Ye Ming's attack while diverting his momentum to the side.

A sharp "clang!" rang out as Ye Ming's sword grazed against mine, its residual energy undiminished, leaving a small cut on my right shoulder from which a trace of blood seeped. At that moment, however, my sword tip was already pointed at his throat, stopping just three inches away. Although my arm trembled slightly, this maneuver was entirely unexpected by everyone present.

Silence fell both inside and outside the practice area as everyone stared wide-eyed, scarcely believing what they had witnessed. Ye Ming's moment of astonishment lasted only an instant before he regained his composure. His sword tip also pointed toward my heart, halting precisely three inches away.

Thus, we maintained a delicate balance, with neither of us in a position to inflict injury nor withdraw completely.

"Draw," Elder Zhang suddenly declared, breaking the silence that had enveloped the field.

Ye Ming and I both sheathed our swords and stepped back, bowing to each other. In our brief exchange of glances, I distinctly saw a flash of shock and reluctance in his eyes, which soon transformed into a strange excitement.

"Truly, your swordsmanship is one of a kind, Sister Wei," Ye Ming said, his eyes shimmering with complex emotions, his voice soft yet earnest. "That final move was especially exquisite—it managed to overcome hardness with softness and transform retreat into an advantage. May I ask, from which school did you learn it?"

"It was taught by my father; it belongs to no particular school or sect," I replied calmly, while silently observing his reaction.

Ye Ming nodded thoughtfully, squinting as he cast several glances at the blue sword sheath at my waist, then refrained from further inquiry. He bowed slightly to me, turned, and departed with his usual unhurried gait, but as he did so, he softly remarked, "I hope someday I may witness the full extent of your swordsmanship; it must be truly extraordinary."

That remark, though couched as praise, carried an undercurrent of challenge—or perhaps even threat. I maintained my composure, offering only a faint smile, while my heart was alert and wary.

"Today's practice is concluded," Elder Zhang announced. "Everyone, return and continue to refine your mastery of the Thirteen Styles of the Gentle Breeze. We will assess your progress in the next lesson."

The disciples bowed and departed one after another, though they couldn't help but glance back at me, their eyes filled with wonder and awe. Our duel with Ye Ming had undoubtedly left a profound impression on them.

"Sister Wei, you're amazing!" Su Li ran over excitedly, her eyes brimming with admiration, "You and Senior Brother Ye ended in a draw—this is truly unprecedented!"

I smiled faintly without saying much. Though my exterior remained calm, my inner thoughts were deeply stirred. Ye Ming's prowess was indeed extraordinary—had it not been for that sudden spark of insight on my part, I might have been defeated. And his keen interest in the secrets of Taigong only heightened my caution.

Sheathing my sword, I gazed into the distance where the sky beckoned. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, bathing every corner of the Tianyan Sect in warm, bright light. Yet beneath this sunshine lay countless secrets waiting to be uncovered. Ye Ming's interest in Taigong's secrets, Elder Zhang's complex gaze when he observed my swordsmanship, Sister Moqing's sudden punishment and seclusion—could there be a connection among all these events?

"Let's go; it's time to return," I said to Su Li, as I gently caressed the blue sword sheath my father had left behind, my mind already formulating the next steps of my plan.