"The sword should be swung like this. You're putting the force in the wrong place."
"Start over!"
Early in the morning, in the open space outside Shen Nanxun's own courtyard, a six-year-old child gripped an iron sword half a body-length longer than he was and swung it over and over in the morning light, drenched in sweat.
"Wrong."
A cool voice came from Shen Nanxun's shoulder. Q-version Qian Renxue sat cross-legged on his right shoulder, her tiny hands folded across her chest. Her little wings fluttered lazily as her round purple eyes watched his grip.
Shen Nanxun adjusted his grip and swung again.
"Still wrong. Your shoulder blade should drive your arm, and your arm should drive your wrist. All three must move as one. You're using your wrist, while your shoulder blade is dead."
He swung again.
"Your waist. Your waist needs to turn with the sword. Wherever the sword goes, your waist goes. Have you got nails growing out of your waist?"
Shen Nanxun took a deep breath, suppressing the faint twitch at his temple, and adjusted his stance again.
The iron sword cleaved through the morning breeze, tracing a heavy, muffled arc.
"..."
Qian Renxue fell silent for a moment. "Barely acceptable. Keep practicing."
This had been Shen Nanxun's daily routine for the past few days.
Once he had recovered from his injuries, he hadn't rushed to attend classes. For now, he planned to train until he reached level ten before officially starting.
His current routine was to be dragged out of bed by Qian Renxue before dawn every morning. First came half an hour of basic sword forms, followed by all sorts of advanced techniques, all of them ancient sword styles.
Practicing swordsmanship in a six-year-old's body was, to be honest, a bit of a strain. The iron sword had been specially made lighter by a Blacksmith, but it was still heavy for Shen Nanxun. For the first two days, his arms had ached so badly after practice that he could barely hold his chopsticks. His fingers trembled the whole time he ate. When Shen Xing saw, she was so heartbroken she nearly hid the sword, and Shen Nanxun had to talk her out of it.
Qian Renxue's training was so strict it bordered on cruel. If a sword form was wrong, he had to start over. If it was wrong ten times, he did it a hundred times. If it was wrong a hundred times, he kept practicing until he got it right. Sometimes Shen Nanxun even wondered if this Angel God had forgotten he was only a six-year-old child.
But he had never complained.
His adult soul made him understand better than anyone that Qian Renxue's training wasn't harshness; it was protection. Those Evil Soul Masters wouldn't show mercy just because he was only six.
He had to grow stronger as quickly as possible.
Qian Renxue settled back onto his shoulder and sat cross-legged, her tiny hands folded over her chest again.
"Stop."
She spoke without warning. Shen Nanxun checked his swing, panting heavily. Sweat streamed down his forehead, his clothes were soaked through, and even his sword hand had rubbed raw until it blistered.
"Rest for fifteen minutes."
At the same time, she held out a tiny hand. A faint, gentle golden light glowed in her palm and fell upon Shen Nanxun's hand, covering the abraded base of his fingers.
Warmth seeped through his skin. The faint sting ebbed away like the tide. The broken skin didn't heal at once, but the swelling and redness visibly subsided, and most of the pain eased.
It was healing power with a holy attribute. Though Qian Renxue was only in Soul Spirit form and far weaker than the true Angel God, she could still call upon some of this most basic healing ability.
Feeling the pain in his hand fade, Shen Nanxun finally had a moment to chat. "Sister Xue, the Angel Sword is your divine weapon, right?"
Qian Renxue kept working without looking up. "Yes. The Angel Sword is the inheritance divine weapon of the Angel God. The inheritors of the Angel God's legacy can summon it after fully merging with the divine position."
She paused, withdrew the golden healing light, and looked up at Shen Nanxun.
"I'm making you practice swordsmanship not only because the Angel Sword requires sword skills. A divine weapon has a spirit, and once summoned, it naturally shares its wielder's thoughts. But that understanding depends on the wielder's body being worthy of the sword."
"The Angel Sword is extremely heavy. Not in the sense of physical weight, but in the weight of its laws. The laws of holy light weigh upon the blade. Without a strong enough foundation, a mortal body can't even hold it. Your Soul Power will grow as your level rises, but your physique, your feel for the sword, your instincts in battle—those can only come from years of hard practice."
Her purple eyes fixed seriously on Shen Nanxun, her voice cool but every word clear.
"When it comes to battle, in the end, you have to rely on yourself. A Soul Spirit can give you power and Soul Skills, and guide you with its experience. But the hand gripping the sword will always be your own."
Shen Nanxun looked at the tiny angel in front of him, no bigger than his palm. After a moment's silence, he nodded.
"I understand."
He had never been afraid of hardship. His twenty-odd years of life in his previous life had taught him one thing: there were no shortcuts to anywhere worth going. That was especially true on the path of a Soul Master.
The fifteen-minute break passed quickly. Shen Nanxun picked up the iron sword again and returned to the dull, grueling repetition of each move.
"Sister Xue?"
"What is it?" Her voice was as cool as ever.
"When I draw back from this move, should I press down with my wrist?"
Qian Renxue blinked, seeming pleased that he had asked on his own, and explained:
"Yes. But don't press downward; draw inward. Retract the sword like a punch, keeping three-tenths of your strength in reserve. Don't put everything into it."
Shen Nanxun nodded, reset his stance, and continued practicing.
"Raise the tip of the sword an inch."
"Again."
The sound of the iron sword cutting through the air rang out again in the empty courtyard. Once, then again, and again. The morning light shifted from the eastern wall to the western wall. The shadow of the locust tree in the corner stretched, shortened, then lengthened again.
Only after he'd finished a full day of sword practice did Shen Nanxun finally have time to return to his room and eat.
The aroma of food greeted him as soon as he stepped inside. By the table stood a woman, watching him enter with a gentle gaze.
Her features bore a few similarities to Shen Yue and Shen Xing. She was the Shen Family's matriarch, and his adoptive mother.
She seemed gentle and mild-mannered now.
But looks could be deceiving!
"Mom, what are you doing here?" Shen Nanxun was pleasantly surprised. He hadn't expected his always-busy mother to come all the way to North Sea City.
"Of course I came because I was worried about my precious son." Ye Li bent down slightly and pinched Shen Nanxun's cheek.
"Come on, I just made you a meal. Eat up."
Shen Nanxun had been about to sit happily at the table and eat. But then he saw the braised chicken, which had no drumsticks or feet left, and the stir-fried pork with chili peppers, which had nothing left but peppers and scraps of meat.
His mouth twitched. "Mom, are you sure you just made this?"
"Of course!" Ye Li answered without hesitation.
Shen Nanxun pointed at her face. "But, Mom, you've still got crumbs at the corner of your mouth."
Caught red-handed, Ye Li showed not a hint of embarrassment. Instead, her face darkened at once, and she glared at him as if angry. She lightly tapped her chopsticks against the table and put on an aggrieved air. "You little brat, are you questioning your mother's heartfelt love for you?"
Shen Nanxun looked at the oddly shaped chicken butt and timidly suggested, "Do I have to eat it?"
"Yes! You have to! If you don't, it means you don't love your mother." Ye Li folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow, her attitude utterly firm, leaving no room for negotiation.
So Shen Nanxun was forced to pick up the chicken butt.
But then Ye Li raised an eyebrow and suddenly slapped the table. "So you won't let your mother have the first bite?"
Shen Nanxun froze, then hurriedly played along, holding the chicken butt out to her with his chopsticks. "Then you eat it, Mom. You can have the first bite."
To his surprise, Ye Li dodged backward instead. Her expression grew even fiercer, and she put her hands on her hips, pretending to be furious. "You dare make your mother eat a chicken butt! Shen Nanxun, are you looking for a beating?"
What a change of face.
Shen Nanxun: "..."
He knew his mom's love usually lasted less than a moment. Still...
With an abstract mom, you had a happy family.
Before you continue