Adjusting Tactics, Challenging Again

As dawn broke, the mountain valley still held the night's chill. I opened my eyes, my hand already resting on the hilt of Flowing Abyss. Three days of seclusion, three simulated battles, each one replaying that same defeat until I could anticipate his moves half a breath sooner.

The spirit beast lifted its head, its ears twitching, its gaze towards me now holding a spark of light. It didn't speak, merely leaned closer to me.

I stood up, my bones still feeling heavy, but the spiritual power circulating through my meridians was smoother than it had been three days prior. The injury from being blown away by the pillar of fire still ached faintly at my ribs, but this wasn't the time for recovery.

I flipped Nine Revolutions Profound Origin Art to its final page, my fingertip tracing the commentary on the fourth stance, "Cloud Collapse." The incantation for diverting and guiding the spiritual power, I had memorized it. Instead of directly unleashing all my spiritual power in an explosion, I would suppress half of it in the Jianjing Acupoint, releasing it mid-strike for a secondary acceleration.

These past three days, I wasn't recovering. I was rewriting fate.

When the sun reached the ridgeline, I walked to the valley entrance. Flowing Abyss rested at my side, its blade reflecting the morning light. The spirit beast followed half a step behind me, its tail low, ready to pounce at any moment.

I didn't wait for him to come.

I addressed the distant cliff face, "I thank you for your tutelage in our previous bout. Today, I come again to challenge."

My voice wasn't loud, but it carried. The few hidden presences outside the valley clearly stirred, some retreating quickly, others stepping forward half a pace.

The wind died down.

A dark figure descended from the cliff top, stirring no dust. The Flame Ash Demon King stood ten paces away, black flames flowing along his skin like a thin armor. He looked at me, his eyes no longer holding that condescending scrutiny, but a hint of caution.

"You've changed," he said.

I didn't answer, merely raising Flowing Abyss an inch higher.

He tapped the ground lightly with his right foot, and cracks appeared again, a crimson heat slowly seeping out. I knew he was probing, wanting to see if I would retreat again.

I didn't move.

A tremor came from beneath the ground, this time from the left. I immediately recognized it as a feint—before the true killing blow is launched, the ground has a brief stillness, like holding one's breath before exhaling.

I stepped to the right.

His pupils contracted.

Fire lines indeed erupted simultaneously from the right and behind, with a thicker main attack route sandwiched between them. In the past, I would have leaped to evade, only to be met by him waiting in mid-air to strike me down.

This time, I didn't dodge.

The moment the fire lines surged, I charged towards the heat flow on the right, using the updraft from the intense heat to ascend diagonally. My body twisted in mid-air, and Flowing Abyss slashed down in response. Before the blade even arrived, the spiritual power reserved in the Jianjing Acupoint erupted, drastically accelerating the sword's speed.

He raised his arm to block, but he hadn't expected me to attack from this angle, at this timing, with this speed. Flowing Abyss struck the base of his right palm, the point where his power was most concentrated.

A muffled thud, and the black flames flickered violently.

He retreated half a step, his right hand hanging limply.

Upon landing, I didn't cease my momentum, immediately pressing the attack. He knew I was going for a combo, quickly forming seals with his left hand as the ground began to tremble, preparing to unleash another pillar of fire.

But I wasn't looking at his hands anymore.

I was looking at his feet.

He slightly lifted his left foot, a precursor to gathering power. I immediately turned towards the blind spot on the right, my blade sweeping low across the ground, forcing him to shift his center of gravity forward. The instant he adjusted his stance, I pushed the third stance of Nine Revolutions Profound Origin Art, "Cloud Collapse," to its limit. Spiritual power surged along the newly trained path in three routes, converging at the tip of the blade.

An oppressive force took shape.

The blade light slashed horizontally, heading straight for the seam of his chest armor. There was a crack there, left by him crashing into a stone pillar in our last battle.

He brought his palms together to try and block it head-on, but my blade was no longer the straightforward force it once was. The edge sliced into the armor's edge, vibrated sharply, and sent him staggering back five steps.

He knelt on one knee, a corner of his black flames extinguished.

Silence fell around us.

I didn't advance further. This battle wasn't about killing him, but about proving I could win.

He slowly stood up, silent, not looking at me. As he turned, his steps faltered slightly, but he steadied himself. Reaching the valley entrance, he stopped, his back to me, and said, "You've learned more than just a cultivation technique."

Then he left.

I stood in place, my hand releasing the hilt, only to realize my palm was slick with sweat. The spirit beast walked over, nudging my leg with its head.

I looked down at the stone platform. The crack that had caused me to fall was still there, its edges scorched black. I walked over and stepped on it, the earth warm beneath my foot.

Distant tree shadows swayed; someone was watching, and footsteps were approaching.

I picked up Flowing Abyss. There was a fine crack on the blade, left from previous battles. I ran my finger over the fissure; it was still cold.

But now, my grip was steady.

The sun had fully risen, illuminating the valley. I sat down against a broken stone, beginning to regulate my breathing. The battle just fought had consumed a lot of spiritual power, especially the reserved strength in my Jianjing Acupoint, which was almost depleted.

The System hadn't issued any tasks or mentioned rewards.

It seemed to be waiting too.

Waiting for me to win a battle truly on my own.

I closed my eyes, my Sea of Consciousness automatically replaying the battle footage. Every movement was recorded, including the angle of my twist in mid-air, the points where my blade speed changed, and the trajectory of my final strike.

[Generate tactical optimization suggestions?]

An interface popped up.

I selected no.

I didn't need it to tell me what to do now. I just needed to remember this feeling—the vibration from the ground beneath my feet, the temperature changes in the air, the subtle shifts in the opponent's breathing rhythm.

These weren't answers that could be found in a test.

The spirit beast, lying beside me, suddenly perked up its ears.

I opened my eyes and saw a figure standing at the valley entrance. It wasn't Flame Ash, but an unfamiliar demon cultivator, holding a long halberd, with green vines wrapped around its body.

It didn't speak, merely tapped the tip of its halberd on the ground.

I knew what it wanted.

I stood up and brushed the dust off my Daoist Robe. The old injury on my shoulder gave a slight tug, but it wouldn't affect my drawing of the blade.

I gripped Flowing Abyss tightly.

I took two steps towards it, stopping three paces away from the stone platform.

"If you want to fight, come up."

It stared at me for a few breaths, then suddenly laughed. After laughing, it slung the long halberd over its shoulder, turned, and left.

I didn't pursue.

But as it reached the edge of the forest, it turned back and said, "Someone in the Northern Barrens is looking for trouble with you."

After speaking, the person vanished.

I stood there, unmoving.

The spirit beast let out a low growl.

I patted its head, then walked back to the center of the stone platform and sat down cross-legged. The heat from the recent victory was fading, and my body felt heavy again.

I knew it wouldn't be peaceful.

I took out the Nine Revolutions Profound Origin Art and opened the first page. I began reading from the start.

The handwriting was clear, the paper yellowed.

The first sentence read: "Spiritual power begins in stillness; movement arises from observation."

I recited it once, then again.

The wind outside picked up again, rustling the grass blades against the stones.

I continued reading.

As my finger turned the page, it brushed against a crease in the corner of the book. It had been blank originally, but now there was a line of small text, the ink very faint, as if written recently.

I hadn't written this line.

I leaned closer to read.

"If you sense anything strange about the world, observe the shift in the stars."