The sun shone brightly over the Martial Training Ground, where groups of disciples had gathered.
"How has your practice of the Tiger's Roar Manual progressed over the past ten days?" Chen Chuyun's voice remained cool and clear as her autumn-like eyes swept across the disciples, pausing briefly on Chen Zong's face.
Chen Wu, Chen Shaoze, Chen Che, Chen Yan, and several others raised questions, which Chen Chuyun answered.
"Today's lesson will cover sword techniques," she announced after addressing their queries. "We'll be focusing on the Phantom Shadow Sword Technique, the Willow Sweep Sword Technique, and the Eagle Strike Sword Technique. Some of you may have practiced these before, while others are completely new to them."
"Regardless, I expect your full attention."
Chen Chuyun always maintained a composed demeanor. If Chen Zong hadn't witnessed the intense fire in her eyes that night, he might have believed she had only one expression.
"The Phantom Shadow Sword Technique transforms your sword into a phantom shadow. When striking, your forearm must lead the movement, guiding your wrist..."
Chen Chuyun clearly possessed a profound understanding of the Phantom Shadow Sword Technique. Her concise and straightforward explanations made the principles immediately clear to the disciples. Chen Zong, in particular, found her words resonated deeply, allowing him to further refine his own comprehension.
When explaining particularly intricate points, Chen Chuyun would draw her sword to demonstrate.
Her blade gleamed with a crystalline brilliance, its edge etched with shimmering patterns that hinted at lethal sharpness—a far cry from Chen Zong's crude iron sword.
Every swordsman yearns for a fine blade, and Chen Zuoyi and the others watched with fervent eyes, their desire burning brightly.
After explaining the Phantom Shadow Sword Technique, Chen Chuyun proceeded to demonstrate the Willow Sweep Sword Technique, followed by the Eagle Strike Sword Technique. To the astonishment of Chen Zong and the others, all three of Chen Chuyun's sword techniques had reached the Perfection Realm.
With thirty minutes remaining after the explanations, Chen Chuyun surveyed the group. "Any questions?"
Her explanations had been exceptionally thorough, leaving the students momentarily overwhelmed with information and thus with no immediate questions.
"Next, I will teach you another sword technique," Chen Chuyun announced, and the students' eyes lit up with anticipation.
"This technique is called the Basic Eighteen Forms." Chen Chuyun drew her sword and began to demonstrate the forms. As she practiced, everyone except Chen Zong grew increasingly disappointed. The technique differed greatly from their expectations, but Chen Zong remained intently focused on her movements.
"The Basic Eighteen Forms consist of eighteen fundamental movements: cleaving, pointing, thrusting, lifting, sweeping, and so on," Chen Chuyun explained. "It is not a Foundation Establishment Martial Art, nor does it possess significant power. However, it will aid your sword practice. I recommend practicing these forms regularly in your spare time." She demonstrated the Basic Eighteen Forms several times.
"Instructor, I have a question," Chen Zuoyi said, meeting Chen Chuyun's gaze. "I've heard that reaching Perfection in Martial Arts isn't the ultimate goal. What realm lies beyond Perfection?"
Chen Zong was stunned by the question. Perfection isn't the pinnacle of Martial Arts? There's an even higher realm?
"Indeed, there is a realm beyond Perfection," Chen Chuyun replied after a moment's pause, her usually icy voice taking on an almost ethereal quality. "Beyond Perfection lies Subtlety."
"Subtlety..." the students murmured in unison.
Chen Zong felt a surge of heat within him, his heart pounding faster than usual for reasons he couldn't explain. The word "Subtlety" seemed to possess a mystical power.
"Don't dwell on the Subtlety Realm for now," Chen Chuyun's cold voice snapped the students back to reality. "No one in the entire Clan Hall has attained it."
"If there are no further questions, this lesson is dismissed," Chen Chuyun said, dismissing the class despite the two-hour schedule, which instructors could manage at their discretion. "Chen Zong, come with me."
As Chen Zong followed Chen Chuyun out of the hall, Chen Zuoyi and the others watched with bitter expressions.
Chen Chuyun's residence within the Clan Hall was a secluded courtyard, ten meters wide and ten meters deep.
"Instructor, do all martial artists get to live in such courtyards?" Chen Zong asked.
"Only the top ten," Chen Chuyun replied tersely. Chen Zong was astonished, realizing this implied Chen Chuyun was among the ten strongest disciples in the entire Clan Hall. "Enough idle talk. Have you achieved minor mastery of the three sword techniques?"
"Yes," Chen Zong nodded.
"Practice," Chen Chuyun urged, her voice urgent and her eyes blazing with fervor.
Chen Zong immediately drew his sword and demonstrated each of the three sword techniques in turn.
"Excellent! Excellent! Excellent!" Chen Chuyun exclaimed, her excitement palpable. Her usually calm eyes now burned like molten metal, as if she intended to incinerate Chen Zong with her fervent zeal. "Chen Zong, will you study the way of the sword with me?"
Chen Zong paused, momentarily stunned. He saw in Chen Chuyun's eyes a profound passion for swordsmanship, which deeply moved him.
"Are you asking me to become your disciple?" Chen Zong asked.
"That's unnecessary. I merely wish to witness the rise of a true sword genius," Chen Chuyun replied, her eyes still ablaze.
"I accept," Chen Zong answered solemnly.
"Good. There's an empty room here. Will you move in, or stay in your current quarters?" Chen Chuyun asked bluntly.
"Instructor, I'd prefer to stay in my current quarters," Chen Zong said without hesitation, not wanting to burden Chen Chuyun further.
"As you wish. However, you must come here for three hours of sword practice every day," Chen Chuyun replied. She didn't insist on Chen Zong moving in, but her requirement for daily sword practice met with no objection from the young man.
Having cultivated the Dao mostly on his own, with only occasional guidance from his father, Chen Zong eagerly accepted the opportunity to learn from a skilled swordsman.
"Let's begin now," Chen Chuyun declared briskly. "Practice the Basic Eighteen Forms."
Chen Zong looked puzzled.
"Mastering the Basic Eighteen Forms will significantly aid your progress in other sword techniques," Chen Chuyun explained with unwavering conviction.
Chen Zong immediately began practicing. He remembered Chen Chuyun's earlier demonstration perfectly. At first, his movements were slow and somewhat imprecise, but Chen Chuyun offered corrections. By the second repetition, his form was mostly accurate, and by the third, his speed had increased.
By the tenth repetition, his body moved in perfect harmony with the sword. Each strike flowed seamlessly into the next, sword light swirling around him as if he had practiced these forms countless times.
"Truly a prodigy with the sword," Chen Chuyun murmured, her gaze intense enough to melt steel.
After twenty repetitions, Chen Chuyun called a halt and led Chen Zong to a corner of the courtyard. There stood a wooden frame shaped like a gate, strung with a row of round wooden beads ranging in size from eggs to soybeans.
"There are four essential principles of swordsmanship, the very foundation of all sword techniques," Chen Chuyun declared, her voice strong and her words sharp as blades: "Speed, Stability, Precision, and Ruthlessness!"
"Only speed allows you to strike unexpectedly, catching your opponent off guard and leaving them helpless."
"Only precision ensures every strike hits its mark, leaving no room for error."
"Only stability prevents fumbles, granting you effortless control over your blade."
"Only ruthlessness slays your enemies, carving a path through adversity."
These four concise sentences sent a jolt through Chen Zong's body, as if struck by lightning. His pupils dilated wildly before contracting sharply, a storm brewing within him.
"Regardless of the sword technique you practice, the ultimate goal remains the same: self-preservation and the annihilation of your enemies. These principles are indispensable."
"From now on, you will bind ten-pound iron plates to each arm. You may add more, but never remove them. This will train the principle of speed," Chen Chuyun said, gesturing to a neat stack of thin, black iron plates in the corner. Forged from heavy iron, each plate weighed ten times more than a standard piece of its size, making them ideal for weighted training.
Chen Zong strapped the plates to his arms. He felt little difference initially, but having trained with weights before, he knew the burden would become increasingly apparent with time.
"Next, we'll practice precision by thrusting at these wooden beads."
"When your sword can effortlessly pierce the center of the smallest wooden bead, you'll have achieved something," Chen Chuyun said. As she spoke, Chen Zong felt a blinding flash of light. A tiny pinprick appeared at the center of the soybean-sized wooden bead, yet the bead remained perfectly still, as if anchored in place. Chen Zong gasped, his mind reeling with shock.
In an instant, Chen Chuyun drew her sword, thrust it forward, and resheathed it with unbelievable speed. Even with his enhanced vision, Chen Zong could only catch a fleeting glint of the blade. Had he been the enemy, he wouldn't have even known what killed him.
Most remarkably, this lightning-fast strike had not only pierced the center of the soybean-sized bead but also left it intact and motionless. This demonstrated that Chen Chuyun's casual thrust was not only supremely accurate but also showed astonishing control over her strength.
That single strike perfectly embodied the essence of speed, precision, and stability.
"Though simple, this one strike surpasses countless sword techniques," Chen Zong mused inwardly, his heart burning with fervor. "If I could integrate this principle into my swordplay, making it faster, more precise, and steadier, its power would skyrocket!"
Chen Zong's reaction pleased Chen Chuyun. Sword mastery required not only talent but also unwavering dedication.
"Begin your training with the largest wooden bead," Chen Chuyun instructed, stepping back to create ample space.
Chen Zong took a deep breath and approached the egg-sized wooden bead. Maintaining a distance, he fixed his gaze on the bead, slowly adjusting his stance until he felt perfectly balanced to strike.
Holding his breath, his vision narrowed to the wooden bead alone. With a twist of his body, he drew his sword and thrust it forward.
This posed little difficulty for Chen Zong, who had already mastered the True Sword Eight Forms to a minor proficiency. Moreover, his twenty-odd days in the Wind Howl Forest had honed his precision through tasks like spearing fish and splitting branches with his sword.
The sword struck true, shattering the wooden bead.
Chen Chuyun gave a barely perceptible nod.
Chen Zong sheathed his sword, targeted the second-largest bead, readjusted his stance, and struck again.
After successfully shattering the third-largest bead, Chen Zong's thrust toward the fourth missed completely, the blade slicing past its side.
"Your sword is neither fast enough nor accurate enough," Chen Chuyun said bluntly. Though inwardly impressed by Chen Zong's progress for a first attempt, she refrained from excessive praise to prevent complacency. "Practice for another hour."
Chen Zong agreed with her assessment. His sword work lacked speed and precision. Even his successful strikes against the larger beads had required deliberate preparation, revealing a lack of fluidity.
His goal was to emulate Chen Chuyun's effortless precision—striking targets at will and controlling his strength with pinpoint accuracy.
Chen Zong practiced repeatedly until his arm grew sore and he needed to rest. Then, he moved on to the Steady Stance technique.
This technique involved gripping the sword hilt, extending his arm straight forward with the blade aligned in a straight line, and holding a ten-pound iron ball suspended from the tip.
Initially, it felt effortless, but as time passed, Chen Zong gradually sensed the major tendons in his right arm stretching forward. A sharp, tearing pain developed, but he gritted his teeth and stubbornly endured.
After five minutes, his arm went numb, forcing him to lower the sword and rest. Chen Chuyun gently massaged Chen Zong's right arm, gradually restoring sensation. The warmth felt soothingly comfortable, and his arm recovered within minutes.
"Continue," Chen Chuyun said, her tone as stern as a strict master.
After several more repetitions, they resumed practicing thrusting at the wooden training spheres.
"That's enough for today. Come again tomorrow," Chen Chuyun announced.
"Instructor, farewell," Chen Zong said, bowing deeply with formal respect. Though he hadn't formally become Chen Chuyun's disciple, he was deeply grateful for her guidance.
With a light step, Chen Zong left the courtyard, feeling the sunlight shining particularly brightly that day.