Summer in Wushan Town always carried the fragrance of earth and grass, occasionally mixed with a faintly fishy breeze blowing from the Magic Beast Mountain Range. In the backyard of the Baruch Clan estate, two boys pursued strength in their own ways.
Linley held a Flat Blade, staring intently at the dull gray stone before him. His mind was intensely focused, and the blade seemed almost alive in his hand as it deftly traced its way across the stone, sending chips flying. He was sculpting, using a method Doehring Cowart had taught him to train his control over his mental power. A vague animal shape, something like a lion, was gradually emerging from the stone.
Fine beads of sweat gathered at his temples. The heavy strain on his mental power had left him somewhat pale, but his eyes shone unusually bright. With every cut, he strove for perfection, feeling his mental power guide the blade like a thread as it precisely stripped away excess stone.
On an open patch of ground not far away, Lin Qin continued his unrelenting sword-swinging practice.
"Whoosh!" "Whoosh!" "Whoosh!"
The broad sword cut through the air with a steady rhythm. Compared to three months ago, his movements were more fluid, and his control over his strength had grown much more precise. He no longer simply exerted all his strength. Instead, he was beginning to draw on the core strength of his waist and abdomen, letting power rise from his feet, pass through his legs, waist, and back, and finally flow into his arms and along the blade.
Each sword swing seemed to carry a weighty quality. The wind from the blade swept over the ground, stirring up a faint cloud of dust, as though the sword's own Gravity Field had been slightly amplified.
Linley finished one stage of his sculpting and stopped to rest, rubbing his aching temples. His gaze was involuntarily drawn to Lin Qin. Watching his seemingly tireless figure, and the intense focus in his eyes with every swing, Linley couldn't help but feel impressed.
"Lin Qin," Linley couldn't help asking, "don't you find swinging your sword like this every day boring?"
At his words, Lin Qin kept moving. Only after completing the current set of a thousand chops did he lower his sword and stand still, exhaling a long breath of turbid air dotted with yellow light. He picked up his waterskin and took a drink, then walked over and sat on the stone steps beside Linley.
"Boring?" Lin Qin wiped away his sweat and looked at his calloused hands. "At first, it was. But now, I can feel something different with every swing."
"Different?" Linley asked curiously.
"Yeah." Lin Qin nodded. He picked up a nearby branch and casually thrust it forward. "Look. At first, I only used the strength of my arms. Later, I found that using my waist made the sword steadier and the strike stronger. After that, I tried to draw on the faint Earth Battle Qi inside me at the instant I swung, making it flow along a specific path..."
As he spoke, he slowly demonstrated with the branch. "See? If the Battle Qi bursts out at the peak of the strike, it gives the thrust more penetrating power. But if it flows as I pull the sword back, I can transition into the next move more quickly..."
Linley's eyes widened. With Grandpa Doehring to guide him, he wasn't entirely ignorant of a warrior's cultivation, but what he knew was limited to theory. He had never imagined that even a simple chopping motion could involve so many subtle principles. This was no longer simple practice—it was an examination of the very source of strength!
Th-this is already close to a realization of "Weight as Lightness," isn't it? Linley was shocked. He had heard Grandpa Doehring talk about a warrior's realms: after the basics came "force," and its initial application was reflected in precise control over strength, such as "Weight as Lightness" and "Lightness as Weight." How long had Lin Qin been practicing? He had already touched the threshold?
Lin Qin smiled without confirming or denying it. After countless repetitions, he had indeed begun to faintly touch that feeling of making a Heavy Sword light and nimble, but the final barrier had yet to break. He knew it would take more practice and more sweat.
"How's your stone carving coming along?" Lin Qin changed the subject, looking at Linley's partly formed sculpture.
At the mention of sculpting, Linley's eyes lit up. "Doe... um, I think carving is amazing! It requires very precise control of mental power, and I feel it's helped my meditation a lot. Uncle Hillman says even powerful warriors need strong will and mental strength. I think carving can train those."
Lin Qin pondered this. "Controlling mental power... is it like controlling the force and angle of my sword swings?"
"Kind of!" Linley gestured excitedly. "You have to use your mental power to 'see' the shape you want to carve inside the stone, then control the blade and remove the excess bit by bit. You can't take too much or too little. Your control has to be just right."
One boy would one day become both a Dragonblood Warrior and a mage; the other was an Ascetic walking the path of Heaven Rewards Diligence. In the backyard of the Baruch Clan estate, they discussed their understanding of "strength" and "control." Their paths were different, but their shared desire to grow stronger united them.
Just then, their elderly steward Hiri came over and looked at them kindly. "Young Master Linley, Lin Qin, it's time for lunch. Oh, right, Lin Qin, Lord Hogg is looking for you. He seems to want to ask you about your Battle Qi cultivation. He appears quite surprised by how quickly you've improved."
Lin Qin's heart tightened, and he nodded. He knew that his extraordinary rate of cultivation had inevitably caught the attention of Hogg, the clan head. But he was open and honest, and there was nothing questionable about the way he cultivated, so he wasn't afraid of being questioned.
Linley patted Lin Qin on the shoulder and said quietly, "Don't worry. Father just cares about you."
The two walked side by side toward the estate. Under the sunlight, one still had the scent of stone dust on his fingertips, while the other's palm retained the warmth of a sword hilt. Their shadows stretched long and intertwined, as if foreshadowing a legend soon to sweep across the Yulan Continent, quietly taking root that peaceful afternoon in Wushan Town.
Lin Qin knew he had to work even harder. The enrollment season at the Ernst Institute was approaching. There were wider horizons there, and more challenges waiting for him to measure with his sweat and overcome with the sword in his hand.
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