Rong'er Flees by Night

"Senior Huang, please enlighten me!"

Lu Chen performed a sword salute, his figure blurring as he suddenly appeared before Huang Yaoshi, his wooden sword thrusting in a rapid chain toward him.

Facing one of the top martial artists in the Condor Heroes World, he dared not slack off in the slightest. His opening move was the deadliest killing technique from Falling Blossom Swordplay, a flurry of thrusts like a raging storm, each strike faster than the last.

Though his true qi was meager in quantity, its quality was exceptionally pure and refined. Infused with this energy, the mere wooden sword tore through the air with a sharp, whistling sound, as if it were a real blade.

Huang Yaoshi stood with one hand behind his back, at ease, casually wielding his sword with no trace of worldly urgency. Using only the flat of the blade to parry and intercept, he effortlessly neutralized Lu Chen's relentless assault.

Lu Chen had expected this and wasn't discouraged. He stepped rapidly, circling Huang Yaoshi, his elbows snapping and wrists trembling. The wooden sword hissed as it struck—now thrusting, now slicing, now pointing, now flicking—in a continuous barrage aimed at Huang Yaoshi. His moves alternated between three feints and one real strike, or five feints and one real, with the line between them shifting unpredictably at any moment.

Attacking Huang Yaoshi with Falling Blossom Swordplay was like showing off one's skill before a master.

Huang Yaoshi didn't even budge from his spot. He made no turns, no sidesteps, no movements at all. Wielding his sword with one hand, he casually deflected Lu Chen's strikes from every angle with effortless grace.

Even when Lu Chen circled behind him, Huang Yaoshi seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, countering the attack without so much as turning around.

Yet, despite this, Huang Yaoshi felt quite satisfied.

Lu Chen had only learned Falling Blossom Swordplay for three days, yet he could already wield it freely in combat. Unlike most beginners, who rigidly executed moves in sequence from first to last, he adapted his techniques to the moment and situation.

He wasn't even bound by the fixed forms. If he sensed something wrong mid-strike, he could instantly transition into the second half of a different move better suited to the circumstances.

This kind of instinctive combat adaptability already showed a hint of "Subtlety of Application."

The way of martial arts teaches that subtlety of application lies in the mind.

Any martial art, technique, or mental method can be taught—except how to apply them. That can hardly be taught at all.

With the same set of skills, one person can wield them effortlessly, turning the mundane into the miraculous, even unleashing astonishing power from the widely known Grand Ancestor Long Fist.

Another can only follow the forms rigidly, struggling even to time their moves correctly. The difference in power between the two is like heaven and earth.

And that is the gap between genius and mediocrity.

A genius breathes life into martial arts, soaring freely without restraint. A mediocrity merely copies the motions, daring not and unable to deviate.

Lu Chen was undoubtedly a prodigy in swordsmanship.

Huang Yaoshi couldn't help but wonder: if Lu Chen had been born decades earlier, in the same era as him, and had been guided by an Enlightened Master from childhood, then who would have claimed the title of "Number One Under Heaven" at the Mount Hua Sword Conference? That outcome might still be uncertain.

After several dozen exchanges, when Lu Chen circled back to the front, Huang Yaoshi, who had been on the defensive, suddenly shifted his sword momentum and launched a counterattack.

In an instant, Lu Chen saw nothing but a blur of indistinct, phantom sword shadows before his eyes. A fierce, chilling wind struck his face, making his whole body go cold, his brow prickle with pain, and every hair stand on end.

Against such a ferocious assault, Lu Chen couldn't even parry, let alone counter. He dodged desperately with footwork and managed to block a few strikes, but then his hand suddenly felt light—his wooden sword was flicked away by Huang Yaoshi's blade, and the tip came to rest at his throat.

"Senior, your skill is unmatched! I am in awe!"

Lu Chen said sincerely.

Defeating a junior so easily, even with such admiration from the opponent, didn't make Huang Yaoshi proud. He nodded slightly and said calmly:

"Your swordsmanship is too crude, your skill too shallow. You need diligent practice. Also, that move of yours, 'White Rainbow Piercing the Sun,' is powerful, but it has a notable flaw. It's a straight thrust—against a true expert, even if they can't break your strike, they can at least dodge it without issue.

"Don't rely on that one sword to become arrogant and overbearing. Instead, think about how to use ordinary moves to create an opportunity, then unleash that Ultimate Sword in a flash, leaving your enemy no room to evade."

Lu Chen nodded gratefully:

"Thank you for the guidance, Senior!"

"Mm."

Huang Yaoshi grunted softly, tossed the wooden sword back to Huang Rong, and returned to the stone table under the tree to drink tea.

Lu Chen stood still, pondering the swordsmanship Huang Yaoshi had displayed during their bout—especially during the counterattack. Soon, he nodded as if enlightened and resumed his practice, assuming a stance.

This time, his swordplay quickly evolved with new variations, more spirited than before. As the sword shadows flickered, it was as if a sudden gale had swept through a peach orchard, scattering blossoms everywhere in a dazzling, bewildering display.

Huang Yaoshi's brow twitched. He hadn't expected Lu Chen to gain insight so quickly, elevating his Falling Blossom Swordplay to a new level. Marveling inwardly, he couldn't help occasionally offering a word of guidance.

Huang Yaoshi's martial insights were far beyond Huang Rong's. Even a casual remark cut to the essence of swordsmanship, sparking deep reflection.

Each time Lu Chen received such guidance, he would pause to think. When he resumed practice, his sword technique would visibly improve.

Such terrifying comprehension made Huang Yaoshi look more favorably upon him with each passing day. But when he happened to glance at Huang Rong, who was resting her chin on her hand, smiling proudly as she watched Lu Chen, Teacher Huang's mood soured.

This kid had astonishing talent, unwavering determination, mastery of both letters and martial arts, and a decent face to boot—he was clearly a walking disaster!

The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became. His contrary nature flaring up, he shot Lu Chen another glare, snorted coldly, and got up to head back inside, leaving Lu Chen utterly baffled. He turned to Huang Rong with a puzzled look.

Huang Rong, well-versed in her father's temperament, simply stuck out her tongue, made a funny face at his retreating back, and then gave Lu Chen a big smile, signaling him not to worry and to keep practicing.

Though Teacher Huang's contrary streak flared up now and then, in the following days, he still watched Lu Chen practice swordsmanship like clockwork.

Huang Rong, too, dutifully attended to her father, cooking his favorite dishes with all her skill and sharing a few cups of Shaoxing yellow wine with him every day.

Seeing his daughter so obedient and filial, Huang Yaoshi felt deeply comforted. At her slightest request, he would once again step in to instruct Lu Chen, offering tips on the Subtlety of Application during their sparring.

This subtlety of application—for a mediocrity, even hands-on teaching wouldn't get through. But for a genius like Lu Chen, a single word could open his mind, elevating his practical skill yet again.

Thus, over the next few days, Lu Chen's swordsmanship surged forward, reaching new heights each day.

When Huang Yaoshi suppressed his power to match Lu Chen's, Lu Chen could even hold his own for forty or fifty exchanges before losing. Such rapid progress deeply shook Huang Yaoshi, who now believed Lu Chen had only been learning swordsmanship for a little over a month.

Before they knew it, the eighth night had arrived.

That day, Lu Chen had trained hard until midnight. After washing up and lying down, he hadn't yet fallen asleep when he heard the door bolt slide softly, followed by a faint creak as the door opened.

Lu Chen sat up and saw the door crack open, then Huang Rong, dressed in a tight-fitting short outfit with a bundle in her hand, slipped in through the gap.

"Rong'er?" Lu Chen was stunned. "What are you—"

"Shh!" Huang Rong made a hushing gesture, quickly strode to Lu Chen's bedside, grabbed the clothes draped over the headboard, and tossed them to him, lowering her voice. "Hurry, get dressed. We're leaving!"

"Leaving?" Lu Chen was speechless. "Senior Huang is still here..."

"It's fine. I know my father's Martial Arts best. At this hour, he always enters his deepest meditation. For two quarters of an hour, unless someone gets within ten steps of him, he won't react to anything outside."

Huang Rong's little face was flushed, her eyes sparkling with both excitement and pride:

"I've been using the strategy of lulling him into complacency these past few days, making him think I've obediently accepted my fate to return to Peach Blossom Island with him. The first few nights, Father didn't go into deep meditation; he was secretly watching. But seeing me so well-behaved, since the night before last, he's completely let his guard down and meditates in peace. I waited two more nights and only acted today—we're sure to slip away successfully."

Lu Chen hesitated. "But I promised Senior Huang..."

"Except I never truly promised him. Besides, the task he gave you is practically a death sentence, utterly unfair to you. Even if I had promised, I could go back on my word. I'm not a great man anyway, just his precious daughter."

Huang Rong said this as if it were only natural, then fixed her bright eyes on him:

"I'm your first teacher. Are you going to listen to my father, or to me?"

There was no choice then.

"I'll listen to you."

Lu Chen hesitated no longer. He swiftly dressed in his clothes and shoes, put on his bamboo hat, grabbed the real sword Huang Rong had bought him, and picked up the bundle with his change of clothes—ready to bolt.

"Let's go! You've already learned Movement Technique. We can reach the Cao'e River within two quarters of an hour and use the water to hide our tracks. That way, no matter how skilled Father is, he won't catch us for a while!"

Huang Rong giggled and left the room with Lu Chen.

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