"Blink Strike Swordplay?" Elara mouthed the name of the sword art, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow.
"Indeed. I ask you, what possible connection could swordplay have with blinking one's eyes? Isn't that name utterly preposterous?"
"Have you attempted to practice this sword art?" Elara inquired, a note of genuine concern in her voice.
"Certainly not! Who in their right mind would endeavor to learn a martial art that scarcely utilizes Source Energy Breath? Would it not merely be an impractical, ostentatious display, all form and no substance? Forget my own inclinations; absolutely no one has cultivated it since its very inception."
"Rumor has it," Leric continued, warming to his topic, "that if the outpost elder who originally devised it hadn't saved Stone Fist Outpost from dire peril on several occasions, and then, on his deathbed, hadn't explicitly willed that this sword art must be incorporated into the Hall of Seven Arts' collection, this 'Blink Strike Swordplay' would never have been permitted amongst the truly precious martial arts manuals housed within the Hall."
Leric Stormblade, a young man whose garrulous nature starkly belied his typically cool and composed exterior, proceeded to divulge every known detail about this sword art before Elara even had the opportunity to pose further questions. Naturally, this loquacious facet of his personality only ever manifested in Elara's presence. When interacting with his other martial peers, he would invariably revert to the persona of the aloof, highly respected "Senior Brother Leric."
After absorbing Leric's detailed account, Elara's keen intuition whispered to her, a faint yet insistent suggestion, that this might be precisely the solution she had been desperately seeking.
"Senior Brother Leric," she asked, her voice earnest, "would it be possible for you to transcribe a copy of this sword art for me and bring it out of the Hall of Seven Arts?"
"Hehe! No trouble at all," Leric chuckled. "Were it any other martial arts manual, I confess, procuring a copy for you would be a considerable challenge, as dedicated personnel are assigned to guard and inspect them meticulously on a daily basis. However, the manual for this 'Blink Strike Swordplay' has been unceremoniously tossed into a forgotten corner, utterly neglected by everyone. Still, transcribing it would be an unnecessary chore. It would be far simpler for me to discreetly borrow the original manual for you. Once you've committed it to memory or made your own copy, I'll surreptitiously return it. I assure you, absolutely no one will be the wiser," Leric proposed, with an air of casual nonchalance, an even more audacious suggestion.
Observing his apparent confidence, Elara readily consented to his plan. She had, truth be told, harbored some slight apprehension regarding his occasional absentmindedness; what if, in his haste, he inadvertently omitted a few crucial passages while transcribing the sword art? That would be a regrettable oversight. Now, the prospect of obtaining the original, untampered manual was, undoubtedly, the most favorable outcome imaginable.
"Alright, it's growing late," Leric announced, briskly drying the lingering water droplets from his skin and donning his upper garment. "I should head back to my cultivation. Otherwise, the steward of the Hall of Seven Arts will inevitably discover I've absconded again."
Elara offered no further words, merely cautioning him to exercise extreme care when pilfering the sword manual, lest he misstep and find himself in serious trouble as a consequence.
Leric, with an air of unconcern, turned, offered her a jaunty wave with the back of his hand, and then began his slow crawl out through the nearby, cleverly concealed cave entrance.
As Elara watched his figure gradually recede and ultimately vanish into the shadowed mouth of the cave, the smile on her face slowly dissolved, replaced by a subtle furrow of worry that etched itself between her brows.
Not long after Leric's departure, Elara also made her way back to Serene Creek Valley. The instant she re-entered the familiar confines of the valley, she spotted the tall, enigmatic man from a distance.
He stood utterly motionless outside Physician Mor's hut, positioned close to the doorway, his head invariably shrouded by a deep hood, seemingly impervious to the scorching intensity of the summer sun.
Elara walked to the threshold of her own small hut, paused, and fixed her gaze upon this man who never uttered a sound.
Ever since her coercion by Physician Mor, Elara had found herself intensely intrigued by this mysterious, perpetually concealed individual. He appeared to be congenitally mute; since his arrival in the valley, he had not spoken a single word.
Even more peculiar was his truly astonishing physical endurance. He would often maintain such a perfectly still, statuesque posture for an entire day, yet she had never once witnessed him display even the faintest hint of fatigue. In the private lexicon of her mind, Elara had long since bestowed upon him the moniker of "the monster."
She had, on previous occasions, attempted to engage him in conversation, but he remained as unresponsive as a block of inert wood. Regardless of how eloquently or persuasively Elara spoke, employing all her wit and charm, he simply, steadfastly, ignored her.
Elara was, in a way, thoroughly impressed by Physician Mor's capabilities. He had somehow managed to train a living, breathing human being to a state so akin to that of a puppet, exhibiting an almost flawless, unquestioning obedience.
Absolute adherence to commands, astounding stamina, complete silence, and an utter absence of any discernible emotional expression—although his actual combat prowess remained an unknown quantity, she surmised it would certainly not be insignificant. This constituted Elara's definitive assessment of the mysterious man.
Elara knew, with a chilling certainty, that this individual would very likely serve as another of Physician Mor's formidable trump cards. Yet, she felt utterly helpless, for she could discern no exploitable weakness in him.
The sole detail that occasionally pricked at Elara's mind with a sense of unease was that, on rare instances when viewing his back from a distance, she would experience a distinct, unsettling feeling of familiarity, as if she had encountered a similar silhouette somewhere in her past. But whenever she attempted to meticulously comb through her memories, she could never quite pinpoint whose familiar form it resembled.
After observing him for a few more moments, Elara heaved a soft sigh, closed her door, and retreated into the sanctuary of her hut. She knew that, without a direct command from Physician Mor, this silent sentinel would never seek rest.
A sense of disquietude settled over her. With a single, fluid leap, she landed directly onto her bed, allowing her body to fall back onto the mattress. She pillowed her hands behind her head and closed her eyes.
She meticulously replayed the handful of sword forms she had gleaned from Leric earlier that day, then commenced a process of mental simulation and practice within her consciousness. She deconstructed the intricate details of each movement into numerous discrete segments, then repeatedly, painstakingly scrutinized and pondered every minute aspect.
This was a newfound ability Elara had acquired after successfully cultivating the Breath of Eternal Life to the fifth layer: an eidetic memory, coupled with the capacity for highly detailed mental rehearsal and extrapolation.
Leveraging this distinct advantage, she could flawlessly commit any martial arts technique to memory and subsequently replay and practice it countless times within the theatre of her mind, thereby refining and elevating its execution. This, in fact, was the underlying reason Leric had mistakenly concluded she was a martial arts prodigy.
Two months prior, relying on the formidable potency of those two clandestine medicines, Elara had forcefully propelled her cultivation of the Breath of Eternal Life beyond the threshold of the fourth layer, successfully attaining the fifth.
The medicinal efficacy of the Dragon's Blood Essence and the Golden Marrow Spirit Fluid had proven to be so overwhelmingly powerful, far exceeding Elara's most optimistic initial estimations. She had clearly underestimated the astonishing potency encapsulated within those ancient, esoteric medicinal formulas; these meticulously compounded elixirs were, without a doubt, priceless treasures.
However, a considerable portion—nearly half—of these two body-refining, marrow-cleansing spirit medicines had been consumed in achieving this breakthrough. The remaining quantity, she calculated, should barely suffice for her to cultivate the Breath of Eternal Life to the sixth layer. A flicker of anticipation sparked within her; she genuinely looked forward to discovering what unexpected and wondrous surprises the sixth layer of this enigmatic cultivation method might unveil.
Less than half a year now remained before the deadline stipulated by Physician Mor. Although she had acquired a repertoire of moves from Leric, her lack of a corresponding internal energy circulation method to synergize with them meant these techniques were, at best, superficial, showy flourishes – mere skin-deep功夫 (gōngfu).
They might prove somewhat effective against individuals with only a rudimentary grasp of martial arts, but to entertain the notion of relying on such skills to confront Physician Mor was truly an exercise in wishful thinking, akin to throwing meat buns at a ferocious dog—a venture doomed to certain failure with no hope of return.
As this sobering realization settled upon her, Elara felt a familiar knot of worry tighten in her chest, accompanied by a profound sense of vexation. Her Breath of Eternal Life was exceptional in nearly every regard, save for one critical deficiency: it seemed utterly incapable of being directly applied in the brutal calculus of actual combat.
Now, her hopes, slender as they were, rested almost entirely upon that enigmatic Blink Strike Swordplay. She could only pray it would deliver the surprise, the edge, she so desperately needed.