Hey, I Have an Idea!

He called out several times, but Feng Qingyang did not return a single word, as if he did not exist within Xue Mingqing's body at all.

If not for the fact that Feng Qingyang's soul fluctuations were still present, Xue Mingqing would have thought he had fallen into a deep slumber once again.

The cold wind whistled, carrying icy snowflakes that slapped against Xue Mingqing's face.

It made him look rather comical as he stood there waiting for a reply.

After a few moments of silence.

Realizing that Feng Qingyang had no intention of acknowledging him, Xue Mingqing closed his eyes in resignation.

"Forget it... one way or another, it shouldn't have any impact on me..."

Although the rune was continuously absorbing Xue Mingqing's soul power, growing like a seed poised to sprout.

The amount absorbed was minimal, and there was no risk of his cultivation level regressing.

At most, his cultivation efficiency would drop by about 10%, which was hardly a cause for concern.

Since it did not hinder his cultivation, Xue Mingqing couldn't be bothered to figure out what it actually was.

He wanted to see exactly what kind of "great opportunity" Feng Qingyang was keeping under wraps for him.

Turning around, Xue Mingqing settled his mind, no longer caring about the rune on his back. He returned to his small courtyard, intending to begin his training 2.0.

Ever since the hurricane body tempering ended yesterday, Xue Mingqing had realized something.

Ordinary physical training and weighted running were of little use to him now.

Rather than wasting time on physical training that yielded meager results.

Xue Mingqing should instead be focusing more of his efforts on the refinement and mastery of martial arts.

After all, Snow Transforms Into All Things had only opened the door to a path reaching the heavens for him, but whether he could truly make something of it depended on his own application and understanding.

Therefore, training in various weapons and martial arts was essential for Xue Mingqing.

The cold wind carried the fine snow that never ceased falling in the Far North.

In this cold and desolate atmosphere, few people were willing to be active outdoors.

Even the local soul masters of Blizzard City maintained the habit of staying indoors whenever possible.

Yet, amidst the falling snow, in the backyard of the City Lord's Mansion, a youth with short, grey-black hair danced against the swirling flakes.

Was he dancing?

No, clearly not. Holding a three-foot Snow Sword, Xue Mingqing slowly practiced his swordsmanship against the backdrop of the falling snow.

If one looked closely, they would see that Xue Mingqing's moves were still raw and immature, possessing a disjointed quality, as if he were merely mimicking others and piecing things together haphazardly.

This was not his fault.

After all, having never used a sword before, he was merely imitating the various sword techniques and styles he remembered from the films and television dramas of his past life.

Relying on his memory, Xue Mingqing mimicked whatever looked cool, which resulted in the awkward, unidentifiable mess of a sword style he was currently using.

If one called it sharp, it lacked decisiveness.

If one called it graceful, it carried a hint of bleakness.

It was a case of neither fish nor fowl, a classic example of a tiger's head and a snake's tail.

Despite this, Xue Mingqing did not give up or slack off in the slightest; instead, he persisted in his sword practice.

He was waiting, waiting for someone to find it unbearable to watch.

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

He wore an expression well-known from his past life.

It was a look of utter inability to bear the sight, as if his eyes were being burned.

"Enough, enough, stop! Don't burn this old man's eyes any further."

"What kind of immortal dance is this? What on earth are you doing?"

Seeing this, the corner of Xue Mingqing's mouth curled into a cunning smile.

The fish had taken the bait.

Could he not know his own level?

Of course he knew; he knew better than anyone that his swordsmanship was abysmal, but he kept practicing regardless.

Heh, he was waiting for Feng Qingyang to be unable to stand it and come out to teach him.

And there it was—it worked.

Turning the sword in his hand, point toward the ground, Xue Mingqing bowed to Feng Qingyang.

"I humbly request your guidance, Teacher."

Ever since Feng Qingyang saved him and spared no cost to his own soul to perform the hurricane body tempering, Xue Mingqing had made up his mind.

He accepted Feng Qingyang as his teacher!

Hearing Xue Mingqing's address, Feng Qingyang raised an eyebrow, and the corners of his mouth, which were always tightly set in indifference, lifted slightly.

Feng Qingyang chuckled softly, as if reminded of something, his eyes clouded with a touch of nostalgia.

But it lasted only a moment before he shook his head with a light laugh.

"Heh... to hear you call me that, this old man has lived a life worth living. You, this disciple, I accept."

Hearing this, Xue Mingqing's body trembled. He had been worried that Feng Qingyang might reject him, and he had no idea what he would have done if that had happened.

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

He looked up, his eyes brimming with unconcealable joy: "Teacher, I..."

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

Because he saw—

Feng Qingyang flicked his sword-fingers, gathering thousands of cold winds into a single point to form a Hurricane Sword. With a flash of cold light, it thrust straight into the center of his brow!

As the wind sword entered his head, Xue Mingqing felt an indescribable coolness pour into his mind.

There was no pain, no blood.

Accompanying the hurricane that entered his mind were nothing but images of sword moves and techniques.

Every strike was as swift as a hurricane.

Every stance carried the power of a tornado, capable of shattering anything that dared to block his path!

It was the Hurricane Sword Art!

"This sword art is the one I have used throughout my life. Take it and use it; it will at least ensure you have no worries when facing enemies of your own rank."

Feng Qingyang said, his hands clasped behind his back.

Hearing Feng Qingyang's voice, Xue Mingqing finally snapped back to reality.

He shook his head and rubbed his forehead to ease the throbbing pain in his brain.

Within his mind, the sword technique known as the Hurricane Sword Art consisted of twenty-seven strikes.

Each strike was more potent than the last, possessing peerless offensive power; it was indeed difficult to find an equal among those of the same level.

However, from the perspective of Xue Mingqing, a transmigrator, this sword art's greatest strength was also its greatest weakness.

It was true that he could easily crush and defeat any opponent whose offensive power was inferior to his own.

But—if he were to encounter an opponent with stronger offensive capabilities, this sword art would leave him in a world of hurt.

Was there any way... to compensate for this?

Xue Mingqing narrowed his eyes in thought. It was truly a fine sword art, and he was unwilling to give it up.

Yet, Xue Mingqing did not want to become a one-dimensional warrior.

What he wanted was a supreme sword technique that could both take a hit and dish one out—a perfect balance of offense and defense...

As he pondered, a spark of inspiration flashed through his mind!

"Ah! I've got it!"

He raised his index finger, a look of sudden realization dawning on his face. He had figured it out!

"Uh... you brat, what have you got...?"

Seeing the look of sudden enlightenment on Xue Mingqing's face, Feng Qingyang stepped back in disgust.

He always felt this kid was a bit touched in the head sometimes.

Hearing Feng Qingyang's question, Xue Mingqing's lips curled upward. He snapped his fingers and voiced his idea.

"Teacher, I have an idea."

"Tell me, is there a possibility that I could use your Hurricane Sword Art as a foundation and incorporate the characteristics of Taiji—the unity of Yin and Yang, the balance of offense and defense—to create an entirely new sword technique?"

Feng Qingyang resided within Xue Mingqing's sea of consciousness, and given his attainments in the soul arts, Xue Mingqing's little secrets were no secrets at all.

Therefore, Feng Qingyang had known from the very beginning that Xue Mingqing was a transmigrator, and naturally, he knew what the Taiji the boy spoke of was.

Watching Xue Mingqing's expression—that "I'm so great, praise me" look—Feng Qingyang's mouth twitched.

So, the sword technique he had used his entire life to face countless powerful enemies was, to this kid, nothing more than high-level fusion material.

He closed his eyes, his mood far from pleasant; he suddenly didn't want to talk to this student anymore.