Fang Yuan focused his gaze. Zhao Tie's saber technique was indeed polished—his blade whipped up a gale, his moves flowed together, and they carried something of a tiger's spirit.
But for some reason—perhaps thanks to Chen Zhengyang's earlier demonstration, imbued with that spirit, and the unique insights brought by his own panel—
Fang Yuan keenly detected that, in the subtle transitions between Zhao Tie's moves,
there seemed to be an indescribable trace of sluggishness. He was not as smooth and natural as Chen Zhengyang,
and the coordination between his breathing and saber momentum was also just a fraction short of mastery.
It was an exceedingly mysterious intuition. It was not that Fang Yuan's eye was particularly discerning, but rather that it stemmed from his inner understanding of the saber technique itself.
Zhao Tie sheathed his saber and stood still, his breathing steady, a faintly pleased look on his face.
Cheers and flattery immediately rose from the crowd.
Fang Yuan also offered sincere praise at the right moment. "Brother Zhao, impressive!"
He understood that Zhao Tie was looking after him and offering him guidance as the First Senior Brother. Fang Yuan accepted the favor with gratitude.
"Alright, Brother Fang Yuan." Zhao Tie waved his hand, quieting the surrounding clamor before speaking to Fang Yuan.
"Don't just stand there watching. Practice a set yourself. I'll watch from the side and point out anything that needs correcting."
As the Martial Arts School's First Senior Brother, teaching ordinary disciples was one of his usual duties. The headmaster, Chen Zhengyang, could not possibly handle everything personally.
"Alright, then I'll trouble Senior Brother Zhao." Fang Yuan nodded.
The instant the chopping knife came out, the smile on Zhao Tie's face froze, and the corner of his eye twitched uncontrollably several times.
This... this was far too