Shi Qingyue drew a practice spear from the weapon rack. Its shaft was dark black throughout, and its tip was wrapped in thick cloth, clearly to prevent anyone from getting hurt.
With a flick of his wrist, the spear traced an arc through the air and came to rest steadily before him.
"Yunche, use this." Shi Qingyue jerked his chin toward the side. "That Azuresteel Saber of yours is too heavy. I'm afraid you won't be able to hold it steady."
Liu Yunche said nothing. He walked straight to the weapon rack and picked out an Azuresteel Saber.
The blade was a little heavier than an ordinary practice saber. Its edge was unsharpened, but the spine bore dents left by repeated impacts.
He gripped the hilt, casually spun a flourish, and sent the blade cutting through the air in a crisp arc. As he finished the motion, the saber tip stopped steadily before him, utterly motionless.
The movement was effortless, without even a trace of wasted strength.
Wan Shan had only been watching casually, but the moment he saw that flourish, his eyelid twitched.
That opening stance was clean as if measured with a ruler—the arc of the blade passing overhead, the angle of his wrist's turn, the final point where the saber tip settled.
Every detail was so precise that it did not seem like the skill a boy of sixteen or seventeen could possess.
It was muscle memory engraved into the body through thousands upon thousands of repetitions, not something talent alone could produce at will.
Naturally, this was the ability of a Saber Grandmaster.
Shi Qingyue did not notice any of this. At the moment, he was still thinking of giving his own brother a few pointers.
With a sweep of his spear, he used only half