Adjusting Tactics, Challenging Again

Dawn had just broken, and the valley still carried the night's chill. I opened my eyes, my hand already resting on Flowing Abyss's hilt. Three days of secluded training, three simulated battles—each one replayed that defeat until I could predict his movements half a breath ahead.

The spirit beast raised its head, its ears twitching. There was a little more light in its gaze as it looked at me. It said nothing, only edged closer to my side.

I stood up. My bones still felt heavy, but the spiritual power flowing through my meridians was smoother than it had been three days ago. The injury left behind when the pillar of fire had hurled me away still ached faintly near my ribs, but this was no time to recuperate.

I turned Nine Revolutions Profound Origin Art to its final page, my fingertip tracing the notes for the fourth form, "Cloud Collapse." I had already memorized that passage about channeling spiritual power along separate paths. Rather than directly driving all my spiritual power into an explosion, I would first suppress half of it within the Jianjing Acupoint, then release it midway through the strike to create a second burst of acceleration.

These past three days, I had not been recovering. I had been changing my fate.

When the sun rose above the ridgeline, I arrived at the mouth of the valley. Flowing Abyss lay at my side, its blade reflecting the morning light. The spirit beast followed half a step behind me, its tail lowered, ready to pounce at any moment.

I did not wait for him to come.

Facing the distant cliff, I spoke. "Thank you for your instruction in our last battle. I have come again to seek it."

My voice was not loud, but it carried far enough. Several concealed presences outside the valley visibly stirred. Some retreated swiftly, while others took half a step forward.

The wind stopped.

A black silhouette descended from the top of the cliff without raising a speck of dust. The Flame Ash Demon King stood ten paces away, black flames flowing close against his skin like a thin layer of armor. When he looked at me, the lofty scrutiny in his eyes was gone, replaced by a trace of wariness.

"You've changed," he said.

I did not answer. I only raised Flowing Abyss another inch.

His right foot lightly tapped the ground, and cracks appeared once more as crimson heat slowly seeped out. I knew he was testing me, trying to see whether I would retreat again.

I did not move.

A tremor came from underground, this time beginning on my left. I immediately recognized it as a feint—the ground would fall into an extremely brief stillness before his true killing move launched, like holding one's breath before inhaling.

I stepped to the right.

His pupils contracted.

Sure enough, fire erupted from the right and behind me at the same time, with an even thicker primary attack route between them. Before, I would have leaped up to evade, only to be struck down by him as he waited in the air.

This time, I did not dodge.

The instant the fire burst forth, I charged toward the heat flow on the right. Borrowing the rising current brought by the searing heat, I swept diagonally upward. My body twisted in midair, and Flowing Abyss came down with the motion. Before the blade arrived, the spiritual power reserved in my Jianjing Acupoint erupted, and the blade's speed surged.

He raised an arm to block, but he had not expected me to attack from this angle, at this moment, with this speed. Flowing Abyss struck the base of his right palm, where his force was most concentrated.

A dull boom sounded, and the black flames shuddered violently.

He retreated half a step, his right hand dropping briefly.

After landing, I did not withdraw my momentum and immediately pressed forward. He knew I intended to chain attacks, so his left hand swiftly formed a seal. The ground began to tremble as he prepared to unleash another pillar of fire.

But I was no longer watching his hands.

I watched his feet.

His left foot lifted slightly, a sign that he was gathering strength. I immediately shifted toward his blind spot on the right, sweeping my blade close to the ground and forcing his center of gravity forward. In the instant he adjusted his footing, I drove the third form of the Nine Revolutions Profound Origin Art, "Cloud Collapse," to its limit. Spiritual power shot forth along the newly trained paths in three streams, converging at the blade tip.

A crushing force took shape.

The blade light swept across, driving straight at the seam in the armor over his chest. There was a crack there, left from when he had crashed into a stone pillar during our previous battle.

He brought both palms together, attempting to receive the strike head-on, but my blade was no longer the same straightforward force as before. The edge sliced into the armor's rim, then jolted fiercely, sending him flying back five steps.

He dropped to one knee, and a corner of his black flames went out.

The surroundings fell silent.

I did not advance again. This battle was not to kill him. It was to prove that I could win.

He slowly rose to his feet. He said nothing and did not look at me. His steps were somewhat sluggish as he turned, but he steadied himself. When he reached the valley entrance, he stopped and said with his back to me, "What you learned was more than just a cultivation art."

Then he left.

I stood where I was. Only after loosening my grip on the hilt did I realize my palm was drenched in sweat. The spirit beast came over and rubbed its head against my leg.

I lowered my head to look at the stone platform. The crack that had once caused me to fall was still there, its edges scorched black. I walked over and stepped on it, the soil beneath my foot faintly warm.

Shadows of trees swayed in the distance. Someone was watching, and footsteps were drawing closer.

I picked up Flowing Abyss. A fine crack ran along its blade, left behind from the previous battles. I ran a finger over it. It was still cold.

But now my grip was steady.

The sun rose completely, and the valley brightened. I sat down against a broken stone and began regulating my breath. That battle had consumed a great deal of spiritual power, especially the force reserved in my Jianjing Acupoint, which had nearly been drained dry.

The system had not issued a question or mentioned any reward.

It seemed to be waiting too.

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

I closed my eyes, and the scenes from the battle automatically replayed in my sea of consciousness. Every movement was recorded, including the angle of my midair turn, the moments when the blade's speed changed, and the trajectory of force behind that final strike.

[Generate tactical optimization recommendations?]

The interface appeared.

I selected no.

I did not need it to tell me what to do now. I only needed to remember this feeling—the vibrations beneath my feet, the changes in the air's temperature, the subtle differences in my opponent's breathing rhythm.

None of those were answers a question could give me.

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

I opened my eyes and saw a figure standing at the valley entrance. It was not Flame Ash, but an unfamiliar demon cultivator holding a long halberd, green vines coiling around his body.

He said nothing. He merely touched the tip of his halberd to the ground.

I knew what he wanted.

I stood and brushed the dust from my Daoist robe. The old wound on my shoulder tugged faintly, but it would not affect my strike.

I tightened my grip on Flowing Abyss.

I took two steps toward him and stopped three paces from the stone platform.

"If you want to fight, come up."

He stared at me for several breaths, then suddenly laughed. When he finished laughing, he slung the long halberd over his shoulder, turned, and walked away.

I did not pursue him.

But when he reached the edge of the woods, he looked back and said, "Someone in the Northern Wasteland is looking to make trouble for you."

Then he vanished.

I remained where I was, unmoving.

The spirit beast gave a low snort.

I stroked its head, then returned to the center of the stone platform and sat cross-legged. The heat brought by that victory was fading, and my body was becoming heavy again.

I knew there would be no peace.

I took out the Nine Revolutions Profound Origin Art and opened it to the first page. Then I began reading from the beginning.

The handwriting was clear, and the pages had yellowed.

The first sentence read, "Spirit begins in stillness; movement arises from observation."

I recited it once, then again.

The wind rose outside once more, stirring the grass until it slapped against the stones.

I continued reading.

As my fingers turned the page, they touched a crease at one corner of the book. It had originally been blank, but now there was a line of small writing there. The ink was faint, as though it had only recently been written.

I had never written those words.

I leaned closer to read them.

"If you sense that heaven and earth are unusual, observe the shifting of the stars."