Hey, I Have an Idea!

He called out several times, but Feng Qingyang didn't answer a word, as if he didn't even exist inside Xue Mingqing.

If not for Feng Qingyang's soul fluctuations still being there, Xue Mingqing might have thought he'd fallen asleep again.

The cold wind howled, carrying icy Snowflakes that slapped against Xue Mingqing's face.

It made him, waiting for Feng Qingyang's reply, look especially ridiculous.

A few breaths of silence passed.

Realizing Feng Qingyang had no intention of answering him, Xue Mingqing helplessly closed his eyes.

"Forget it... It won't affect me anyway, right...?"

Although the rune was continuously absorbing Xue Mingqing's Soul Power, growing like a seed poised to sprout,

it wasn't absorbing much, and there was no chance it would make Xue Mingqing's cultivation fall.

At most, it would reduce his cultivation efficiency by around ten percent. It wouldn't amount to anything.

Since it wouldn't affect his cultivation, Xue Mingqing couldn't be bothered to wonder what it was.

He wanted to see what kind of "great opportunity" Feng Qingyang had been keeping bottled up.

Turning around, Xue Mingqing calmed his mind and stopped worrying about the rune on his back. He returned to his courtyard, ready to begin Training 2.0.

Ever since his Hurricane Body Tempering had ended yesterday, Xue Mingqing had realized

that ordinary physical training and weighted runs were now of little use to him.

Rather than waste time on physical training with such meager results,

Xue Mingqing should instead devote more thought to improving and honing his martial skills.

After all, Snow Transforms Into All Things had merely opened the gate to the Heavenly Dao for him. Whether he could actually make something of it depended on how he applied and understood it.

So training with all kinds of weapons and martial techniques was essential for Xue Mingqing.

The cold wind carried the fine snow that never stopped falling in the Far North, sending it fluttering down with a soft rustle.

In this bleak, desolate atmosphere, few people were willing to spend time outdoors.

Even the local Soul Masters of Blizzard City made a habit of staying indoors whenever they could.

Yet amid the snow swirling across the sky, a gray-black-haired boy stood in the back courtyard of the City Lord's Mansion, dancing beneath the falling snow.

Was he dancing?

No, of course not. Holding a three-foot Snow Sword, Xue Mingqing slowly practiced sword forms beneath the snow.

A closer look revealed that his moves were still raw and clumsy, even disjointed, as though he were copying one thing after another and cobbling them together.

It wasn't his fault.

After all, he'd never used a sword before. The moves he practiced now were nothing more than imitations of the various sword forms and techniques he'd seen in films and television shows in his previous life.

Relying on his memories, Xue Mingqing copied whatever looked cool, which was why the sword art he performed now was such a hodgepodge.

You could call it fierce, but it lacked ruthlessness.

You could call it graceful, but it carried a hint of killing intent.

It was neither fish nor fowl, with a beginning like a tiger and an ending like a snake.

But Xue Mingqing showed no sign of giving up or slacking off. Instead, he stubbornly kept practicing.

He was waiting for someone to be unable to take it anymore.

Sure enough, just as Xue Mingqing raised his sword to begin a third round, Feng Qingyang's still somewhat ethereal soul form emerged from his body.

He wore a famous expression from Xue Mingqing's previous life:

the look of someone who couldn't bear to watch, as if his eyes were being assaulted.

"That's enough, that's enough. Stop. You're hurting my eyes!"

"What the hell are you doing? What is this supposed to be?"

At that, Xue Mingqing's lips curled into a crafty smile.

The fish had taken the bait.

Did he not know what his own skill level was?

Of course he did. He knew better than anyone. He knew perfectly well that his swordplay was a complete mess, but he kept at it anyway.

He'd been waiting for Feng Qingyang to lose patience and come out to teach him.

And now, it had worked.

Turning the sword in his hand so its tip pointed at the ground, Xue Mingqing bowed to Feng Qingyang.

"I ask that you kindly teach me, Teacher."

Ever since Feng Qingyang had saved him and tempered his body with the Hurricane at the cost of damaging his own soul, Xue Mingqing had made up his mind.

He would accept Feng Qingyang as his teacher!

Hearing how Xue Mingqing addressed him, Feng Qingyang raised an eyebrow. The corners of his usually impassive, tightly closed lips lifted slightly.

He chuckled. As if remembering something, a hint of reminiscence appeared in his eyes.

But it lasted only an instant. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Heh... Hearing you call me that makes it all worthwhile. I accept you as my disciple."

At those words, Xue Mingqing's body trembled. He'd been worried Feng Qingyang might reject him, and if he did, what would he do?

But now, all those worries vanished the moment Feng Qingyang accepted him as a disciple.

He lifted his head, joy impossible to hide in his eyes. "Teacher, I..."

But before he could finish, Xue Mingqing's pupils suddenly contracted!

Because he saw—

Feng Qingyang flicked his fingers in a sword gesture. Countless cold winds gathered at a single point, forming a Hurricane Sword. A glint of icy light flashed as it shot straight into his brow!

The wind sword entered his head. In an instant, Xue Mingqing felt an indescribable coolness flood into his mind.

There was no pain and no blood.

The only things that entered his mind along with the Hurricane were images of one sword move after another.

Every strike was as swift as a Hurricane.

Every form seemed to wield the might of a tornado, able to shatter anything that stood in its way!

This was the Hurricane Sword Art!

"This sword art is the one this old man used most often. Take it and use it as you please. At the very least, it'll ensure you have no trouble facing opponents at your level."

Feng Qingyang spoke with his hands behind his back.

Hearing Feng Qingyang's voice, Xue Mingqing finally came back to himself.

He shook his head and rubbed his forehead, easing the throbbing pain in his mind.

The sword technique called the Hurricane Sword Art contained twenty-seven strikes.

Each strike was stronger than the last, its offensive power unmatched. Among opponents of the same level, it was indeed hard to find a match for it.

But from the perspective of Xue Mingqing, a transmigrator, this sword art both succeeded and failed because of its offensive power.

Against an enemy whose attacks were weaker than his, he could indeed overwhelm them with ease and win.

But—if he met an enemy with greater offensive power than his own, this sword art would leave him struggling.

Was there any way... to make up for that weakness?

Xue Mingqing narrowed his eyes in thought. It really was an excellent sword art, and he was reluctant to abandon it.

But Xue Mingqing didn't want to become a warrior with only one strong point, either.

What he wanted was an unparalleled sword art that could both withstand blows and strike hard, with offense and defense in perfect balance...

As he pondered, a spark of inspiration flashed through Xue Mingqing's mind!

"Hey! I've got it!"

He raised his index finger, his face dawning with realization. He'd figured it out!

"Uh... What have you got, kid...?"

Seeing Xue Mingqing's enlightened expression, Feng Qingyang took two disdainful steps backward.

He always felt that this kid was a little odd at times.

Hearing Feng Qingyang's question, Xue Mingqing's lips curved slightly. He snapped his fingers and shared his idea.

"Teacher, I have an idea."

"Do you think it might be possible for me to build on your Hurricane Sword Art and combine it with Taiji's balance of yin and yang, with its ability to both attack and defend, to create an entirely new sword art?"

Feng Qingyang lived in Xue Mingqing's Spirit Sea. Given Feng Qingyang's mastery of the soul, Xue Mingqing's little secrets were no secrets at all.

So Feng Qingyang had known from the very beginning that Xue Mingqing was a transmigrator. Naturally, he also knew what Xue Mingqing meant by Taiji.

Looking at Xue Mingqing's expression—I'm amazing, now praise me—

Feng Qingyang's lips twitched.

So his sword art, which he'd used all his life to face countless powerful enemies, was just high-level fusion material to this kid.

Closing his eyes, Feng Qingyang felt far from pleased. He was starting to regret taking this student.