A spear without a foundation was like willow fluff drifting through the air.
One had to stand firm and gather strength, holding the spear level and aligning its three points.
The three moves—parry, deflect, and thrust—had to be tempered through a thousand trials. Strength began at the waist and flowed to the spearhead; only then could one achieve the marvel of "shooting forth like an arrow, returning like a thread."
Over the past few months, Su Mu had devoted himself solely to the fundamentals. He hadn't rushed to practice the killing moves of the Torrential Rain Spear Technique, so its progress on the panel hadn't been fast.
But in truth, his rate of progress was still astonishing. Before practicing the Torrential Rain Spear Technique, Hong Shan—the burly man in black armor, a hundred-man commander of the Black Mountain Rebel Army who had died at Su Mu's hands—had followed a wandering warrior and trained in the fundamentals of spearplay for over five years. That didn't even include his fist training before that, and only after all that had he gradually begun learning the killing moves.
Now, with his terrifying comprehension, Su Mu had covered the five years of spear training Hong Shan had undergone in less than three months—and had even surpassed him. If Su Mu wished, the Torrential Rain Spear could advance to Minor Mastery at any time.
There were plenty of people in Qingyun City who practiced martial arts. The white waxwood staff Su Mu had bought at the market was over six feet long, nearly an inch thick, and weighed ten pounds. It was sturdy and resilient.
In Su Mu's hands, it was like a flood dragon churning through waves and surging out to sea. The end he gripped had been soaked with sweat for days, and the