It was barely dawn.
Li Ping'an rose on time and washed up.
First, he visualized his cultivation technique in bed for a while, then practiced in the courtyard with a branch as his saber.
Only after working up a heavy sweat did he feel refreshed and clearheaded.
Then, silently reciting the Nirvana Sutra's cultivation formula, he reflected on his gains and losses in his fight with Kong Yang.
A cultivator's strength truly was difficult for ordinary people to match.
Had Kong Yang not been wounded, he would probably have had only a thirty percent chance of winning that fight.
Li Ping'an turned his hand over, and a three-inch azure short sword appeared in his palm.
This was Kong Yang's sword, which Li Ping'an had retrieved.
He could sense a trace of Kong Yang's presence still hidden within the blade.
Cultivators truly were wondrous beyond measure.
Before transmigrating, Li Ping'an had enjoyed reading fantasy novels.
He had seen protagonists take up cultivation with ease, buying a book on cultivation just anywhere and then shutting themselves away to work it out on their own.
Only when his own turn came did he understand that reality was always cruel.
The three-inch short sword felt warm and smooth as jade to the touch.
It was narrow and thin, like a willow leaf.
It had no guard or any other ornamentation.
Yet a faint sheen lay over its edge, like a pool of autumn water, so thin it was almost transparent.
Li Ping'an flicked it lightly, and the blade gave a clear ring.
After a moment's thought, Li Ping'an channeled true qi into his fingertip.
Then he touched the blade lightly, attempting to erase Kong Yang's lingering presence within it.
The sword tip trembled slightly and let out a low hiss, seemingly resisting.
Keen Sword