Chapter 45: Focusing on Increasing Strength
The Next Day, Night Time
I was still inside my humble residence in the outer sect. Outside the entrance, I had hung a wooden plaque that read: "In Seclusion. Do Not Disturb." It wasn't my original idea, but I had been inspired by a disciple who lived in a house similar to mine. Outside their residence, they had hung up a similar sign.
The scroll containing my notes and comprehension of the Vanish Blade technique lay open in front of me. After thoroughly reading the technique, I had jotted down what I could understand. Luckily, I had found a rusty sword left behind by the previous owner of the residence. It was enough for me, as I was only going to practice and not engage in a life-and-death fight.
The sword was completely covered in rust, with even the hilt worn out. I picked it up, its weight heavier than I had expected. The iron felt cold against my palm, and the hilt was wrapped in frayed black cloth that had long since lost its softness. Rust crawled along the blade's surface like veins of decay, dulling what might have once been a sharp edge. At first glance, it looked like nothing more than a discarded relic—a forgotten weapon with no name, no owner, and no legacy.
Yet, as I tilted it under the dim lantern light, I noticed faint engravings buried beneath the rust. Almost erased by time, but still there. A single stroke, then another—not words, but remnants of intent.
Someone had wielded this before me.
Someone had left traces of their technique in the worn grip and faded carvings.
Who were they?
I exhaled, shaking off the thought. It didn't matter. This sword was mine now.
I stepped into the courtyard, the night wind whispering through the trees. The world was silent—a perfect backdrop for my technique. Vanish Blade wasn't just about speed. It was about presence. About erasing it.
I steadied my breathing, adjusting my grip on the rusty sword.
First step—control. I focused on my heartbeat, my breath, and the energy coursing through my limbs. Too much movement, and I'd disrupt the air around me. Too little, and I'd lose my momentum.
I took a step forward.
The air shifted. The gravel crunched.
Wrong. Too loud.
Again.
I closed my eyes. The rustling leaves, the dust flying, the tiny mosquitoes and insects in the surroundings—everything was too loud. Even the blood rushing through my veins.
This time, I moved in rhythm with the swaying leaves—stepping forward just as the wind picked up, masking my presence. Unfortunately, the wind was faster than me, and I was left behind.
I tried again, this time a little faster. Before the wind reached me, I executed the move, but the sound still lingered. I lowered my sword and flipped through my notes again, trying to comprehend some hidden mystery. Without the original copy of the technique, it was nearly impossible. I wasn't some sword god or immortal with a natural affinity for the Dao of the Sword.
Sigh.
Do I not have the talent to achieve something with a sword? Doubts began creeping in as soon as I relaxed. I knew these were just intrusive thoughts, making me focus on the end result—imagining myself as one of the sword immortals from stories. But that urge for quick success disrupted my journey toward mastery, leaving me unable to achieve anything. Years later, looking back at this moment, I would only feel regret.
I picked up the sword, which had at some point slipped from my grip. Now, with my thoughts sorted out, I tried again. This time, I emptied my mind. I even cleared the thought of swinging the sword, so that even my mind wouldn't know what my next move would be.
I started thinking about miscellaneous things, like how the caretaker of the technique hall had bribed me and how I hadn't informed Xue Lingxi to visit the young elder in return.
Whoosh.
The moment my mind drifted into strange thoughts, I loosened my body completely. The hilt of the sword slowly moved away from my grip. Just as my palm reached the end of the hilt, I nonchalantly swung the sword. I paid no attention to the air, the insects, the leaves, or anything else. My sword moved in a horizontal motion in a straight line. The power from that swing almost made me lose my grip, but the result was what I wanted—a slash of complete silence. The Vanish Blade.
No sound was created. It had been my mistake to think that Vanish Blade meant to literally vanish. It was just a metaphorical term referring to being faster than the enemy. I wouldn't say I had mastered the technique, as if I had to go through all these preparations during a fight, my head would be rolling on the floor long before I even attempted the swing.
Clap, clap.
I turned around to see who was clapping. I was so focused on training that I forgot to feel fear. To my surprise, it was Elder Long who had arrived. It made sense, as my residence was protected by a formation that only allowed the owner and permitted individuals to enter.
"Brilliant," Long Bai commented. His words were sincere, coming from the bottom of his heart. Who doesn't like geniuses? Long Bai, being a genius himself, certainly did. And if the genius happened to have the attitude of Xu Mo, then that person deserved to be called a prodigy.
'Elder, I apologize for disturbing you,' I moved my lips silently, cupping my hands in greeting. I also apologized for calling him by leaving a message earlier.
Long Bai read my lips but couldn't fully decipher what I was saying. However, seeing the apologetic expression on my face, he understood.
"Do not apologize. Because you called me, I was able to witness how a prodigy trains."
I rubbed my neck in embarrassment. It was strange. Human behaviour is peculiar. Insults make one angry, but praise makes people feel embarrassed rather than proud.