Xuan Di, his junior brother, had also mentioned Jiang Yang's considerable talent for the sword. But Qi Refining was precisely the time to devote oneself to cultivation and choose a Dao Path, when one ought to avoid becoming engrossed in the outer dao.
Thus, Xuan Guang had originally intended to wait until Jiang Yang reached Foundation Establishment and everything had settled before teaching him. But since Jiang Yang had asked, he held nothing back and simply handed it over.
Seeing how Zheng-ly Xuan Guang spoke, Jiang Yang carefully accepted the moon-white Jade Slip and replied:
"Many Xie, Master, for your generous gift. I will keep your words firmly in mind."
Any Sword Art worthy of being called a Sword Canon was generally at least fifth grade. Beyond that, each had a lineage behind it; these were hardly commonplace wares.
The Cave-Origin One-Qi Sword Jiang Yang had practiced before, for instance, was only third grade, so its creator had only dared call it a Sword Art, never presuming to claim a higher title.
A warm breeze wandered through the mountains, ruffling the hem of Xuan Guang's robes. He cautioned:
"Cultivation of the Sword Dao lies in practice, insight, and killing. Above all, it demands talent. Blindly practicing will not suffice, nor will building a cart behind closed doors. Without blood on your hands, you will likewise never succeed. Remember this well."
At this, Xuan Guang extended a finger, slender and straight, its joints clearly defined. A wisp of emerald green curled around its tip, pure in color and boundless in intent, irresistibly drawing the eye.
The instant that radiance appeared, the surrounding blades of grass turned, stems bent sideways, and spirit flowers changed direction. The grasses and branches at his feet abruptly straightened, standing like slender swords, swaying left and right