Lan Changsheng had never practiced swordsmanship, but he had comprehended this strike from that pine tree.
Lan Changsheng's sword stopped a mere millimeter from Chen Xin's brow without piercing it.
The sword tip suddenly softened, and a blade of Blue Silver Grass grew from it, tapping Chen Xin between the brows.
Lan Changsheng let go, and the Blue Silver longsword in his hand dispersed into blades of Blue Silver Grass that burrowed into his palm.
Chen Xin lowered his head and looked at the Seven Kill Sword in his hand, remembering the thought he had held when he first grasped a sword: a little boy of six or seven had resolved to become the greatest swordsman.
He remembered the sensation of the Seven Kill Sword cutting through the air when he first swung it, his first contest against another person, and the first time he had slain a bandit facing him with a single strike to protect his family.
When he raised his head again, the gloom in his eyes had vanished. The Seven Kill Sword's once-dull blade gleamed with a gentle luster, yet its edge was keener than before. This was a sword free of distracting thoughts-true sword heart illumination.
"I lost again," Chen Xin said, but there was a hint of ease in his voice.
"It wasn't a loss. You've taken up your sword again, haven't you? Don't seek outside yourself." Lan Changsheng smiled casually.
"Uncle!"
Tang San's voice broke the silence as he ran over and took Lan Changsheng's hand.
Ning Rongrong also ran to Chen Xin's side, her little hand clutching his sleeve. "Grandpa Sword, are you all right?"
Chen Xin nodded, glanced at Ning Rongrong, and smiled as he reached out to stroke her hair. "Grandpa Sword is fine. Better than before, in fact."
"Um,