On this northward return voyage across the sea, Chen Ping'an had roughly calculated the southward pace of that Luopo Mountain visitor, so he was in no particular rush. Along the way, he practiced that sword-art escape technique, his figure repeatedly transforming into more than a dozen streaks of sword light. Over the emerald waves, he roamed the mortal world with an escape method that seemed to all but disregard the River of Time. More precisely, every streak of sword light could follow certain minute water veins within the River of Time, resembling "traveling water," moving through heaven and earth as a person without boundaries entering a realm without people.
After tens of thousands of repeated studies, Chen Ping'an had finally brought this escape technique to roughly the same level Ning Yao had displayed the first time she used it. Perhaps this was what they meant by the clumsy bird flying first, diligence making up for inadequacy?
They paused to rest on an island near the mainland of Treasure Bottle Continent. Chen Ping'an squatted on a tree branch, cupping his hands as he performed a water spell. Spring water gurgled from his palms, and he scooped up a handful of clear water to wash his face.
Xiao Mo sat nearby with the Green Bamboo Staff laid across his knees. "Young Master has excellent aptitude."
Chen Ping'an laughed in exasperation. "Say fewer things against your conscience. Flattery does nothing for me."
Xiao Mo looked earnest. "Among all sword arts, when different sword cultivators wield them, their bearing differs in high and low. That is only natural. The reason is simply that they are constrained by their current realms. As the senior who taught Xiao Mo swordsmanship once put it, whoever can draw out the greatest amount of true meaning of Daoist magic