With the "Swift Serpent Steps" manual carefully unrolled before him, Linfei felt a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The faded characters danced across the parchment—intricate footwork sequences, precise stances, and fluid flow diagrams all promising to unlock a new dimension of movement.
He began by mimicking the slow, deliberate motions outlined in the text: stepping lightly, rotating his hips, shifting his weight with silence and grace. But soon, Linfei realized this was harder than it looked. His feet stumbled, energy wavered, and his usual straightforward Iron Fist strikes felt clumsy when paired with such swift, serpentine movement.
Frustration bubbled up as he tripped over a stone, nearly crashing into a stalagmite. "Serpents must be quick and cunning," he muttered, pushing himself up with a determined grin. He practiced again, faster this time—circling like water, his breath matched to his step, then a sudden burst of speed that sent him skimming across the cave floor like a leaf on a breeze.
Hours bent into days as Linfei danced with the shadows, each step growing lighter, more fluid, less predictable. The sensation was unlike anything he'd experienced—his entire body learning to flow like the winding serpent it was named after. He even caught himself grinning in mid-movement, the joy of mastering something so elegant and deadly bubbling inside him.During a leap over a fallen log, he felt his Qi surge, balanced perfectly with the motion.
By the end of his training session, despite aching muscles and sweaty skin, Linfei was no longer a clumsy novice. The Swift Serpent Steps had begun to weave into his body and soul, promising new heights of agility and survival.