Cicada Wing's First Cry

In the small courtyard, fallen leaves rustled in the wind.

Qin Jue sat cross-legged on the slightly worn wooden bed, meditating and regulating his breath.

His breathing was steady and deep. With each exhale and inhale, the surrounding world's primordial energy was drawn into his body, strand by strand, merging into his five viscera and six bowels.

This was a technique from the Nine Revolutions Viscera Refining Secret Record, known as "Five Viscera Thunder Sound."

According to the technique's description, this step was meant to draw primordial energy into the body, using a special breathing rhythm to vibrate the viscera, making them as tough as leather.

After a long while, Qin Jue opened his eyes and let out a long breath.

"Too slow..."

Although he possessed the [Void Clarity Sword Heart], granting him exceptionally keen perception that could easily penetrate the obscure and difficult-to-understand meridian circulation routes within the technique, faced with an absolute resource gap, even comprehension could not conjure primordial energy out of thin air.

"Since improving my cultivation base is temporarily limited by resources, I can only seek a breakthrough in 'skill.'"

Under the old locust tree in the courtyard.

Qin Jue held the Cold Iron Sword, his posture as steady as a pine.

He was going to practice the first form of Cicada Wing Layers—[Flap Wings].

The core of this martial skill lay in a single word: "vibration."

By using a high-frequency flick of the wrist to drive the sword blade's tremor, it produced a tearing force capable of cutting through metal and jade.

This tremor had to be extremely fast, extremely fine.

Fast enough that even the air had no time to escape, fine enough that the naked eye could not capture it.

"Hum..."

Qin Jue's wrist moved slightly, and the Cold Iron Sword let out a low hum.

"Wrong. The amplitude is too large."

Qin Jue shook his head, his brow slightly furrowed.

That last sword strike, although it appeared as a blur of multiple blades, in his senses—now several times more acute—the power was too dispersed.

The rhythm of the tremor was too slow. Not only did it fail to increase lethality, but the instability of the sword blade also affected accuracy.

"Again."

Qin Jue held his breath, concentrated his mind, and focused completely. The [Void Clarity Sword Heart] activated silently.

The entire world in his perception instantly slowed down. The rustling of the wind and grass around him, even the slightest tremor of his arm muscles, were all captured without omission in his mind.

This time, he concentrated all his power into the small space of his wrist.

"Sss—"

The sword blade no longer emitted a hum, but an extremely faint sound like silk tearing, like the most raucous cicada hidden deep in the forest on a summer afternoon suddenly flapping its wings.

The sword blade trembled within an extremely small range. This high-frequency vibration seemed to distort the surrounding air.

This was the feeling!

Qin Jue's gaze sharpened. The sword in his hand did not stop.

He practiced over and over again.

This repetitive motion was extremely tedious, but Qin Jue knew very well that a solid martial foundation was forged through this very repetition.

One stroke, two strokes, one hundred strokes, one thousand strokes...

He didn't know how many sword strikes he had unleashed. Qin Jue was already drenched in sweat, his arms sore and numb. His wrist was red and swollen from the prolonged high-intensity vibration.

But he did not stop.

If he couldn't even endure this bit of hardship, how could he talk about pursuing the pinnacle of martial arts?

The sun rose and the moon set. In the blink of an eye, seven days had passed.

During these seven days, aside from eating and sleeping, Qin Jue spent all his time practicing his sword under the old locust tree.

Until the dusk of the seventh day.

A gust of autumn wind swept by. A withered yellow locust leaf spiraled down from the treetop, passing right in front of Qin Jue.

Qin Jue moved.

He did not swing his sword to cut it. He merely gave his wrist a slight flick, gently placing the Cold Iron Sword, which was vibrating at extreme speed, horizontally across the leaf's inevitable path.

There was no sharp Sword Qi, no astonishing momentum.

That withered leaf drifted down lightly and touched the blade.

"Boom!"

A single, extremely faint muffled sound.

The originally intact fallen leaf was not cut in half; instead, the moment it touched the sword's edge, it was as if countless fine strands of force simultaneously shredded it, instantly shattering it into a cloud of powder!

The drifting dust scattered with the wind, like a fine yellow drizzle.

"It's done."

Qin Jue watched this scene, a hint of satisfaction appearing on his pale face.

This was the power of the first form of Cicada Wing, [Flap Wings]. By utilizing extreme vibrational force, any object that touched the blade would instantly endure hundreds or thousands of cuts. If this kind of lethal force struck a person, even if they wore soft armor, the penetrating vibration would likely shatter their internal organs.

"These seven days of bitter training were worth it."

Qin Jue casually twirled the sword in a flourish, the Sword returning to sheath. Though his arm ached as if it might split apart, he could feel that his control over power had reached a new level.

This improvement in strength, earned through diligence and sweat, filled him with an immense sense of solidity.

"Since the first form is complete, I'll press the advantage and try the second form—[Thousand Threads]."

If [Flap Wings] was a tool for close-quarters shredding, then [Thousand Threads] was an unpredictable killing move. It condensed vibrational force into a single point at the sword's tip, releasing it as tangible threads. These could either entangle an enemy like a spider's web or pierce armor like steel needles.

Qin Jue held his breath and focused his mind, locking onto that wisp of wandering force, trying to guide it toward the sword's tip.

"Zii—crack!"

On the first attempt, the force lost control just as it reached the middle of the blade. The Cold Iron Sword let out a strained, unnatural screech, and the violent backlash numbed Qin Jue's tiger's mouth, nearly sending the sword flying from his hand.

"No good, the force is too scattered."

Qin Jue shook his head, his expression calm, without a trace of frustration at the failure.

For the next half hour, the small courtyard was filled with the constant "humming" sound of the sword vibrating through the air.

Practice, over and over again.

Until the nineteenth attempt.

Qin Jue was drenched in sweat, and his right arm, having endured the backlash of high-frequency vibration for so long, began to spasm and tremble uncontrollably.

"Again!"

Qin Jue gritted his teeth, enduring the numbness in his arm. His eyes were like lightning, fixed on the Cold Iron Sword in his hand.

He clenched his jaw tightly, directing the force within his body to race wildly along the meridians and tendons of his arm, pouring all his power into the small space of his wrist!

"Hum—"

The Cold Iron Sword let out a clear cry, its body blurring from the extreme high-frequency vibration. Even the surrounding air seemed to twist and warp under the influence of this oscillating force.

This was the fleeting opportunity!

"Thousand Threads!"

Qin Jue let out a low shout, and the long sword in his hand suddenly thrust forward.

"Shiiiiii—"

Countless barely visible streams of white air burst from the sword's tip, instantly enveloping an area several feet in front of him!

The next moment, a scene that made one's scalp crawl unfolded.

Over a dozen falling leaves, the moment they touched the white streams of air, were silently sliced into dust!

This was the power of the second form of Cicada Wing, [Thousand Threads]. It wasn't a slash, but a direct pulverization through high-frequency vibration!

However, the instant this sword thrust was completed, Qin Jue's expression changed drastically!

"Crack!"

The Cold Iron Sword nearly flew out of his hand. A piercing, bone-deep pain shot through his tiger's mouth, and his entire right arm went numb!

"Tch."

Qin Jue looked at his trembling hand, shaking his head with some disdain. "Still too much of a stretch."

"The second form of Cicada Wing, [Thousand Threads], requires concentrating the vibrational force into a single point for release. This demands extremely high bone density. With my current 'Hundred Refinements Third Layer' physical body, I simply can't withstand this terrifying backlash."

Martial techniques—the more powerful they are, the more demanding they are on the body. Without the bone density of the Hundred Refinements Fourth Layer [Jade Bone], this [Thousand Threads] move was a suicidal tactic that would hurt the user as much as the enemy!

As for the third form, [Silent], it required the vast blood and qi support of the Hundred Refinements Seventh Layer [Melt Blood]. Perhaps after advancing to [Jade Bone] and further enriching his blood and qi, he could attempt it. But if he dared to touch it now, his blood and qi would be drained dry, turning him into a mummified corpse!

Qin Jue endured the sharp pain and moved his stiff fingers.

"Still... this sword strike finally has about thirty percent mastery."

Qin Jue thought to himself. "As long as I don't use it consecutively, it's enough to serve as a life-saving trump card."

As for advancing to [Jade Bone], without sufficient spiritual medicines and resources, breaking through in a short time was as difficult as reaching the heavens.

Qin Jue took a torn cloth from his bosom and simply bandaged his tiger's mouth.

"Time to head to the Deacon Hall."

He walked over, pulled the Cold Iron Sword from the ground, carefully wiped the dirt off the blade, sheathed the sword, turned, and strode down the mountain.