Before Dawn, the Chill Wind Blows
The sky was only just turning pale, a band of gray clouds stretched across the horizon. Sunlight was like slender golden threads, still hidden behind a veil of silver mist. The sea waves lapped gently against the rocky shore, producing sounds calm yet profoundly deep.
Quang Minh stood motionless upon a great rock, his white robes fluttering in the breeze, eyes fixed on the distant sea, a faint shadow of contemplation lurking in his gaze. Bích Thủy stood quietly behind him, silent, not daring to disturb.
Suddenly, a lone swallow, lost in the winter sky, flew in from the north. Its feathers were drenched with dew, and it landed upon Quang Minh's shoulder, panting for breath.
Quang Minh gently stroked the swallow's wings and murmured:
"You are like me. Amidst the storms of sea and sky, sometimes there is nowhere left to belong."
Hearing this, Bích Thủy felt a stab of pain in her chest. Softly, she spoke:
"Brother… I fear… the path you walk grows ever farther away… with no way back."
A Messenger Bearing Dire News
Even as she spoke, from the edge of the dense forest skirting the island, a figure in green shot forth like an arrow. The person landed upon the rocky beach and at once fell to his knees, gasping for breath:
"Reporting to Master Quang… the situation is critical… Prince Lê Hoàng is leading three thousand martial experts, divided into seven divisions, marching toward Bích Hải Island. Among them, Long Ảnh Chủ commands the Lục Phong Sect, brimming with murderous intent!"
Quang Minh's brows knitted into a frown. His eyes, which had been as tranquil as a placid lake, now showed subtle ripples.
"Three thousand martial experts… Could they truly be seeking a battle to the death?"
Bích Thủy's face turned pale:
"Bích Hải Island is so small… how could it withstand such a great army? Do they mean… to wipe this place from the earth?"
Quang Minh remained silent for a long time. The sea breeze swept through his hair, and his white robes billowed like snow in the winter sky.
The Night Before the Storm
By now, the sky grew brighter, yet still shrouded in gray clouds. Quang Minh folded his arms and walked slowly along the rocky beach. With each step, the white sand sank deeply, leaving behind clear impressions.
"Three thousand martial experts… are but a number. If men's hearts are already in chaos, even ten thousand soldiers become nothing but dust."
Bích Thủy watched him quietly, her heart tangled like a skein of silk threads. Suddenly, she bit her lip and said:
"Brother… is there ever a time… we could run away? Flee far from here. Leave the martial world behind…"
Quang Minh turned to look at her, his eyes reflecting the moonlight upon still waters:
"If I run, rivers of blood will flow across the land. How could I ever face others again?"
Bích Thủy's eyes welled with tears. The wind blew in, carrying a chill that swept across the rocky shore, making the hem of her robe tremble.
Martial Enlightenment in the Long Night
That night, the moon was not yet full, its light glimmering upon the sea like the edge of a silver blade. Quang Minh sat cross-legged, his breath deep and steady, soft as silk.
Within his mind, every technique, every movement he had ever learned appeared with crystal clarity. But suddenly, they all shattered into scattered points of light, dissolving into the void.
He recalled his master's words:
"When martial arts reach their ultimate peak, there is no move that defeats all moves."
Quang Minh sighed. Bích Thủy sat nearby, not daring to utter a word. In the silence, only the sound of waves breaking and night birds calling could be heard.
Then, all at once, an insight flashed across Quang Minh's mind:
"If martial arts can harmonize with heaven and earth, then my heart should be able to embrace all under heaven. At that point… techniques themselves become meaningless."
A warm current of true qi surged upward, rising from his dantian and coursing through every meridian. His breath seemed to merge with the rhythm of the sea breeze, until he felt as though all heaven and earth were flowing into his chest.
Bích Thủy suddenly felt a shiver run down her spine. She cried out softly:
"Brother… what technique are you practicing?!"
The Next Eruption
Quang Minh opened his eyes. Deep within, an unfamiliar brilliance shone.
All at once, he swung his right hand in a sweeping arc. There was no sword, no visible technique. Yet a gust of wind flashed past, seemingly visible yet invisible. The misty sea air before him split apart, revealing the deep, dark blue waters beneath.
Bích Thủy cried out in terror:
"Invisible Strike… what level of mastery is this?!"
Quang Minh's voice was soft and calm:
"When my heart moves, heaven and earth transform. No technique… is the ultimate technique."
The Beginning of the Storm
From far out at sea, the muffled roll of war drums suddenly echoed, reverberating against the towering cliffs of the island. The glow of torches lit the entire horizon red.
Quang Minh rose to his feet, his hand clenching tightly, and murmured:
"The storm… has arrived."
Bích Thủy stepped beside him, grasping his hand, her voice trembling:
"I… will face it all with you."
The midnight sea heaved with restless waves, as though reflecting the turbulence in human hearts. High above, the lone swallow still circled, seeking a path to escape the raging storm.