Another day began at Azure Peak, and Jiang Chen greeted it not with words, but motion.
The Ironroot Stance was no longer a struggle. His body aligned without thought, and he could now hold it for hours without trembling. But he knew stagnation was death. Progress came only through pushing past comfort.
Today, he began something new.
[Basic Sword Draw Technique – Proficiency: Untrained]
Progress to Entry: 0.6%
He had borrowed a wooden practice sword from the discarded pile behind the outer disciples' training hall. Splintered at the edge, the hilt wrapped in dried cloth, it was a forgotten thing.
But to Jiang Chen, it was a beginning.
He stood still. Knees slightly bent. Right hand resting on the sword's hilt. Left hand on the scabbard's mouth. A breath in. A breath out.
Then—draw.
A slash. A return to sheath.
He practiced it one hundred times.
Each time, he adjusted.
The angle of the draw. The speed. The path of the blade. The center of gravity in his hips.
There was no flash, no light, no gust of wind like the disciples who swung glowing swords overhead. But there was precision. There was purpose.
[Basic Sword Draw Technique – Proficiency: Entry]
Progress to Proficient: 9.8%
He grunted softly.
He was getting faster.
...
By midday, Jiang Chen returned to his duties. He hauled water jugs up steep stone steps and cleaned the meditation rooms that inner disciples used for seclusion. The spiritual pressure in those rooms left his limbs heavy and his lungs tight, but he endured it. He memorized it.
Every pressure. Every fluctuation. Every trace of qi.
There was a logic to it. A rhythm.
And the more he observed, the clearer the map of cultivation became in his mind.
Even without a spiritual root, he was learning.
[Observation – Passive Skill Activated]
You have begun to comprehend: "Qi Flow Patterns of Nascent Realm Cultivators"
Understanding: 2%
He had no spiritual root.
But he had eyes. He had will. And he had time.
...
That evening, he found a quiet corner beneath the east wall, where an old bell tower had partially collapsed and weeds grew through cracked stone. It was a place no disciples visited. And there, he trained again.
Draw. Slash. Sheath.
Draw. Slash. Sheath.
Again and again. A storm of silent repetition.
Sweat soaked his rough servant tunic. His palms blistered. His breath grew ragged.
But he did not stop.
Because in his mind, a memory echoed—a phrase from a book he once read on Earth, in a time when swordplay was only fiction:
"A blade is not forged in a moment. It is born through repetition, quenched in pain, and sharpened by patience."
...
[Basic Sword Draw Technique – Proficiency increased to: Proficient]
Speed increased by 15%
Accuracy increased by 10%
You have developed: "Still Blade, Swift Edge" (Passive)
Effect: Gain a bonus to first strike if initiating from complete stillness.
He stood in the twilight, wooden sword resting in hand.
Still as stone.
Then, in a blur, he moved.
The blade hissed through the air.
A leaf fell in two.
...
Atop a distant pavilion, an elder paused mid-sip of tea. His brows lifted slightly.
"Hm? That movement… not bad. But… a servant?" He chuckled, then sipped again. "Interesting."
Unseen, unheard, Jiang Chen returned the blade to his side.
He bowed to the broken tower.
And then to the fallen leaf.