The days before the New Year settled back into peace.
Zhao Feng practiced stances and fist techniques at the martial arts school during the day. At night, he practiced archery in his courtyard in Willow Tree Alley, while also taking up the Cloak Saber Technique and Wind God Leg Technique again.
In the courtyard in Willow Tree Alley, the cold wind swept up dead leaves from the ground. Zhao Feng stood in the open space with his eyes closed and saber in hand, slowly drawing in and settling the energy around him.
Suddenly, he tapped his toes against the flagstones, his feet spinning like a windmill as his figure darted left and right at tremendous speed. Swish! Saber light flashed, weaving a barrier so dense that not even the wind could penetrate it. Every stroke carried the force of the wind, and the wind lent strength to the blade! A horizontal sweep sent a gust billowing out, stirring up a cloud of dust. Consecutive downward chops showered silver light wildly. As he spun and slashed, the saber light seemed to become a whirlwind, the blade's gusts intertwining with the wind to produce a shrill howl that tore through the air. At times he leaped, his saber following his movements; at times he ducked low, sweeping the blade just above the ground; at times he charged, his feet driving forward in a chain of linked steps. As he advanced and retreated, his chops, rising cuts, slashes, and thrusts all seemed to merge with the shifting wind. When he chopped, he borrowed the wind's force to strengthen his blade. When he cut upward, saber light burst forth without warning. When he slashed, the blade's gusts whirled around him, turning its light into a spinning wheel. When he thrust, his feet moved like