Xuefeng woke early the next day, slipping out of bed with practiced quiet. The soft creak of the floorboards beneath him was the only sound as he dressed and left his room. The morning streets were cloaked in stillness, the faint chill of dawn wrapping around him like a second skin.
The guards at the gate straightened at the sight of him. "Greetings, Young Master," they said, their voices low but deferential. Xuefeng nodded absently and stepped through. The Clan Leader's Mansion loomed ahead, its silhouette bathed in the pale light of morning. Inside, the halls were quiet, save for the occasional murmur of servants, who bowed as he passed. What had once felt strange now seemed routine.
He grabbed a quick bite from the kitchen before heading upstairs to his father's study. The room was empty, as he had expected; his parents were likely still asleep. The study's atmosphere was both imposing and intimate, a space steeped in authority and the weight of countless decisions. Xuefeng sank into the sofa, retrieving the modified Spirit Art Ling had worked on. The manual was clear in his mind—absorbed earlier, its intricacies waiting to be explored.
The art detailed nine sword moves, each building on the Rank 5 Sword Serpent Steps. The original had been powerful, but Ling's modifications elevated it, adding four new moves that pushed the boundaries of the technique. Even with her guidance, Xuefeng found the Spirit Qi patterns maddeningly complex, the balance between force and precision razor-thin.
After another read-through, he decided it was time to practice.. A towering black wall at the far end caught his eye, its surface marred with deep, jagged scratches. They were clearly sword marks—evidence of his father's training. If even his father's sword couldn't break the wall, Xuefeng reasoned, then it should be safe for me to use.
Not wanting to risk his Black Flames Slayer sword, he summoned a Rank 3 practice sword from his storage ring. The blade materialized in his hand, solid yet unassuming. He activated his Rank 4 Endurance Aura to steady himself, its warm energy coursing through him. The draining nature of training would be less punishing with its aid.
Unbeknownst to him, a shadow shifted in the corner of the room. Liu Xiaobei stood silently, his presence cloaked, watching his son with an expression that shifted between curiosity and quiet disbelief.
Xuefeng turned toward the black wall, gripping the sword tightly. He visualized the first move, letting the knowledge take over. His body moved instinctively, the sword slicing through the air with an elegant swoosh. The sound was satisfying, almost hypnotic. He repeated the motion several times, letting muscle memory settle in before introducing Spirit Qi.
As he funneled the dense Black Spirit Qi into the blade, it darkened, pulsing with latent power. He executed the move again, and this time the sword roared—a sound like a serpent's cry, primal and wild. The wave of energy slammed into the wall, making it tremble under the force.
In the shadows, Liu Xiaobei's mouth fell open, his composure momentarily shattered. That shouldn't be possible, he thought, his gaze fixed on the wall. His son, barely a day into his training, had managed what seasoned cultivators struggled to achieve.
"Wow, so powerful," Xuefeng muttered to himself, staring at his hands as though they belonged to someone else. Checking his Spirit Qi, he noted that the move had only consumed one-twentieth of his reserves—a startling efficiency.
Eager to push further, Xuefeng lifted the sword again. "If I can make scratches like my father, then I'm just as strong as him, right?" he mused aloud, his voice tinged with excitement. He poured more Spirit Qi into the blade, the dark energy coiling and thickening around it. The next strike was louder, fiercer, the blade embedding itself four inches into the rock. The resulting shockwave rebounded, sending vibrations through the room. Xuefeng stumbled but remained upright, his Endurance Aura anchoring him.
"What a sturdy wall," he murmured, stepping back to inspect the damage. "I hope my second move can make a complete mark."
"Cough, cough…" Liu Xiaobei cleared his throat loudly, stepping out from the shadows. He had been quietly observing but could no longer remain hidden. Xuefeng spun around, startled to see his father emerge from the corner.
"Oh, you're awake already," Xuefeng said, scratching the back of his head. "I was using your wall for training. Did you see my attack just now? I just learned it today!" His eyes sparkled with excitement as he gestured toward the gaping hole in the wall.
"Yes, I saw everything," Liu Xiaobei replied, his tone measured, though curiosity flickered in his eyes. "Where did you learn an art like that? It resembles the Sword Serpent Steps, but it's… different. Much more powerful."
"Yeah, I tweaked the Sword Serpent Steps a bit, and this is what I came up with. It should be more effective now," Xuefeng said casually, as if reworking advanced Spirit Arts was a trivial task.
"What do you mean by 'tweaked'?" Liu Xiaobei's left eye twitched involuntarily. He knew the sheer complexity of creating a Spirit Art—let alone modifying one. It was a feat that even seasoned cultivators struggled with, often spending decades to refine their techniques.
"Well, it's not entirely my work," Xuefeng admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "My master helped me adjust some Spirit Qi patterns to make the technique run smoother."
Liu Xiaobei stared at his son, momentarily at a loss for words. His boy—who knew nothing about cultivation until recently—was now modifying Spirit Arts with the help of a mysterious master. It didn't matter that he had assistance; what mattered was that he was capable of applying it. Many cultivators spent lifetimes chasing such breakthroughs, and Xuefeng had managed it in a single day.
"Do you know what this wall is made of?" Liu Xiaobei asked, gesturing toward the jagged hole his son had carved out.
Xuefeng shook his head. "No idea."
"It's called Black Lava Rock," his father explained, running his fingers along the damaged surface. "It's tempered in earth flames under volcanoes year-round. This is the hardest rock you'll find in the entire country. Even scratching it is nearly impossible. Destroying it? That's something only the top experts in the Kingdom could achieve."
Xuefeng's eyes widened, his excitement growing. "So… if I can destroy it, that means I'm stronger than most experts in the Kingdom, right?" He couldn't help but imagine himself standing at the pinnacle of power, his new Sword Spirit Art leading the way.
Liu Xiaobei's expression darkened slightly. "Not quite," he said, his tone sharp enough to cut through Xuefeng's enthusiasm. "Experts like that have more than raw power. They have experience, strategy, and countless tricks at their disposal. If you can't even land a hit on your opponent, the strongest Spirit Art in the world is useless. You need practice—real battle experience—before you can call yourself strong."
Xuefeng's enthusiasm dimmed, but only slightly. "Got it," he said with a determined nod. "I'll work hard to get better. Oh, by the way, I came to see you because I need Spirit Stones. They'll help me train more efficiently."
Liu Xiaobei's demeanor softened. "Ah, I'd already prepared some for you, but I hadn't gotten around to delivering them. Here." He waved his hand, and a series of wooden boxes materialized on the ground, each overflowing with small, shimmering blue crystals.
Xuefeng's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he bent down to examine the stones. Without hesitation, he absorbed all of them into his storage ring, unaware of their immense value. If his father could casually provide this much, he assumed it wasn't a big deal.
Liu Xiaobei watched him silently, a faint smile playing on his lips. He doesn't even realize how much I've just given him… he thought. That naivety might be his greatest strength—or his biggest weakness.