The next day, before dawn had fully broken, Fang Yuan was already standing in a corner of the Training Ground.
The chopping knife cut through the air as he once again practiced that Five Stances Combined Training, so different from everyone else's.
After several days, the Martial Arts School's students had long grown accustomed to this unique sight.
The initial pointing, mockery,
"What kind of nobody dares practice like that?"
And remarks like, "All talent and no sense, just fooling around," gradually faded away.
In their place came more and more gazes, carrying curiosity, scrutiny, and even a faint, barely noticeable urge to imitate him, quietly settling on Fang Yuan.
They could not put their finger on the exact difference, but instinctively felt that Fang Yuan's Five Tiger Severing Gate Saber Technique
seemed to possess an indescribable charm beyond the orderly moves taught by First Senior Brother Zhao Tie.
It was more like a living, breathing ferocious tiger pouncing on its prey—fluid and savage.
In terms of saber technique proficiency, Fang Yuan was still far behind Senior Brother Zhao Tie, yet his saberplay possessed a certain beauty.
Several disciples who had arrived early gathered beside the weapon racks and whispered among themselves:
"Look at his Starving Tiger Pounces on Prey today. It's three parts sharper than yesterday."
"I heard Zhang Meng privately trained until the second watch last night..."
Zhang Meng stood in the shadow of a corridor pillar with his arms folded, his fingernails digging deeply into his palms.
He was one of the best among this batch of students. If not for Fang Yuan, he would have been the most promising candidate to catch the headmaster's eye and become a personal disciple.
Yet ever since Fang Yuan appeared, the headmaster's gaze seemed rarely to fall upon him again.