And Xiao Qiu's sword was the tree being entwined.
[Supporting Tree]
A sword move that avoided strength to strike at weakness, winding its way upward.
Xiao Qiu felt only an instant of impact against his sword, neither firm nor solid, before it became an empty, plunging sensation.
In the scene his eyes caught, his opponent's sword touched his own and swung away; then, the next instant, his opponent twisted his long arm, and the winding sword tip was suddenly before him.
The process in between seemed to have been cut away.
It was like a green bamboo branch that, the instant he lashed at it, became a bamboo pit viper springing up.
And throughout it all, the boy's eyes remained fixed on the sword he had lashed out with, while these exquisite movements flowed effortlessly from his hands.
The blade approached lightly and swiftly. The arm was an extension of the sword, the body an extension of the arm. There was a fluid beauty to the boy's twisting thrust, its force drawing his entire body into alignment.
Such control, exquisite to the finest hair, such exertion of force reaching all the way to the extremities-
Xiao Qiu's entire attention was seized by this exquisite thrust that redirected his force.
He had striven tirelessly before this threshold.
His eldest brother had praised him, saying he should cross it in another two or three years. Reaching the Clumsy Realm at twenty-five would put him within sight of Shang Huaitong's shoulders and back.
Yet now he suspected he was looking at another Shang Huaitong.
Xiao Qiu immediately jerked his arm back to slash at the sword pressing toward his throat, but in the gap between sword moves, his opponent turned the twisting thrust into a drawing stroke, deftly evading him once more while