Chapter 3: **Mastering the Flow**
The third day since the storm dawned bright and clear, just as the day before had been. The passing storm seemed like a distant memory, leaving behind a sky so blue that it was hard to believe there had ever been a shadow on the horizon. Jian stretched his arms as he walked through the courtyard, still feeling the soreness from the previous day's training, but with a sense of quiet satisfaction.
Yesterday had been uneventful, just a calm, normal day of drills and routines in the Celestial Blade Sect. No omens, no strange feelings—only the passing memory of a storm that had been nothing more than a brief disturbance. The quietness was both comforting and disconcerting. Jian couldn't shake the thought that something had been off, but each day that passed without incident made him feel like it was all in his head.
He approached the training grounds again, knowing today would be different in one way: today, he would push his progress even further.
With the **Skyward Flow** technique nearly perfected, Jian felt a growing confidence in his ability to refine his skills. This was the technique that defined a swordsman's foundation in the Celestial Blade Sect—if he could master it, he would prove his worth to the sect. And once again, Jian preferred to train early, before the rest of the disciples filled the grounds, allowing him the peace to focus.
As he moved through the courtyard, Jian noticed the slight shimmer of dew on the stone pathways and the lingering coolness of the morning air. It was peaceful, almost serene. He couldn't help but feel like the calmness of the past two days was just what he needed. His mind was clear, and the quiet allowed him to concentrate fully on his training.
Arriving at his usual spot near the far edge of the grounds, Jian took a deep breath and unsheathed his blade. The feel of the sword in his hands was already becoming more familiar, as if it was slowly becoming an extension of himself. He shifted his feet into the starting position for the **Skyward Flow**, recalling every lesson, every instruction he had drilled into his mind the day before.
He began his movements, slow and deliberate. The key to mastering the **Skyward Flow** was not in the quickness of the blade or the strength of the swing, but in the fluidity and balance of every step, every motion. It was about finding that perfect connection between mind, body, and weapon.
*The flow must be continuous,* Jian reminded himself, *like the wind moving through the trees, uninterrupted and constant.*
He could feel the energy gathering in his legs as he moved, just as the elders had taught him. The technique was designed to channel the swordsman's energy from the ground up, starting with the feet and moving through the body until it was released in a precise strike. The sword was merely a conduit for that energy, a vessel through which the flow was unleashed.
Jian's movements were smoother now, his footwork more refined. He had spent hours yesterday perfecting his stance, focusing on the flow of energy from his legs to his arms, and finally into his blade. Now, he felt the technique becoming more natural, almost second nature.
*It's not just about strength or speed,* Jian thought to himself as he continued practicing, *it's about understanding the flow of energy and moving with it, not against it.*
He could feel the difference now compared to his earlier attempts. The sword felt lighter in his hands, his movements more controlled. It was almost as if the energy of the earth was guiding him, flowing through him in perfect harmony with his blade. The Skyward Flow was no longer just a technique—it was becoming a part of him.
As he practiced, Jian found himself lost in the rhythm of the movements. Time passed without him noticing, the world around him fading into the background. All that existed was the flow—the sword, his body, and the energy connecting them to the earth.
It wasn't until a shadow fell across him that Jian realized he had been training for much longer than he intended. He paused, glancing up to see one of the senior disciples, Lin, watching him from a short distance away.
"You've been at it for a while," Lin said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I see you've finally figured it out."
Jian sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I think I'm starting to get it," he replied modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice.
Lin nodded, stepping closer. "The Skyward Flow is one of the most difficult techniques to master, especially for someone at your level. But you've shown impressive progress. Keep working at it, and it will become second nature soon enough."
Jian appreciated the praise, but he knew he still had a long way to go. There were many more techniques to learn, and while mastering the **Skyward Flow** was a significant achievement, it was only the beginning.
"I will," Jian said, determination in his voice. "I'll master it completely."
Lin smiled, but there was something in his eyes—something that made Jian pause. For a moment, he thought Lin was about to say something else, something important. But then the moment passed, and Lin simply patted him on the shoulder before turning to leave.
"Keep up the good work, Jian," Lin said as he walked away. "You're on the right path."
Jian watched him go, a slight frown on his face. There it was again—that feeling. The unease that had been growing in the back of his mind for the past few days. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something wasn't right. Lin's words had been encouraging, but his tone… there had been something else there, something unsaid.
Shaking off the feeling, Jian returned to his practice. He couldn't let his mind wander now. He had made great progress, but there was still much more to do. He resumed his stance, focusing once more on the flow of energy through his body.
But as he moved, his thoughts kept drifting back to Lin's expression. It wasn't just the words—it was the way he had looked at Jian, the hesitation in his voice. Something was bothering him, and Jian couldn't help but wonder what it was.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, with Jian going through his regular routine of training, meals, and drills. The atmosphere in the sect was peaceful, the disciples going about their tasks as usual. There was no sign of anything out of the ordinary, no sense of impending danger.
And yet, as the sun began to set and the shadows lengthened across the courtyard, Jian found himself standing alone once again, gazing up at the sky. The clouds had returned, though they weren't as ominous as before. They were just clouds—ordinary, harmless clouds drifting lazily across the sky.
*But why do they still make me feel uneasy?* Jian wondered. *Why can't I shake this feeling?*
He turned away, forcing himself to ignore the lingering doubt in his mind. Tomorrow would be another day of training, another opportunity to improve. And perhaps, by then, the strange unease would finally disappear.
As Jian turned away from the sky, the feeling of unease tugged at him once more. His feet carried him back toward the dormitories, but his mind lingered in the courtyard. The breeze had grown cooler, almost sharp against his skin, and the once-clear skies now seemed heavy with the promise of another change in the weather.
He paused for a moment on the stone path, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting something—or someone—to be there. The courtyard was empty, save for the whisper of wind through the trees. A few leaves tumbled across the ground, catching in the low light of the fading sun. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that should make him feel like this.
And yet, that gnawing sense of foreboding refused to leave him.
*It's just a passing storm,* Jian told himself again. *Nothing more.*
Still, the question wouldn't leave his mind. *Why can't I shake this feeling?* He had no answer. Perhaps it was just the intensity of his training, or the pressure he felt to perfect his skills. Or perhaps it was something deeper, something he couldn't yet name.
As he continued toward his quarters, he passed several other disciples, their faces familiar but distant. They were all focused on their own tasks—cleaning weapons, preparing for the next day's lessons, or sharing quiet conversations with one another. None of them seemed to notice the strange tension that weighed on Jian's thoughts. None of them seemed to feel what he did.
The dormitory was quiet when he arrived, the other Blade Bearers already settling in for the night. Jian's bed was simple, just like the rest of the room. He sat on the edge of it, resting his sword by his side. For a moment, he considered going straight to sleep, hoping the feeling would pass by morning. But something stopped him.
He unsheathed his sword again, holding it up in the dim light. The blade gleamed faintly, a reflection of the faint moonlight streaming in through the window. His hands moved on instinct, his mind running through the techniques he had practiced earlier. It was almost soothing, this repetition of familiar motions, a reminder that despite everything, he was still in control.
*The Skyward Flow is my foundation,* he thought, repeating the mantra to himself. *The blade, the flow, the connection between body and earth.*
His hand moved slowly along the length of the blade, tracing the fine edge. It was a well-crafted weapon, one that had served him well, though he knew it wasn't the most powerful or impressive sword in the sect. But it was his. He had earned it through his training, through his persistence. And that meant more to him than any ornate weapon ever could.
But still, the unease lingered.
Jian glanced out the window once more. The clouds had thickened now, darker and heavier than they had been just a few minutes ago. The breeze that had been cool and crisp now felt cold, biting at the back of his neck. There was a stillness to the air, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something.
*It's just a storm,* he reminded himself again, but this time the words felt hollow, like he was trying to convince himself of something he didn't quite believe.
He stood, sheathing his sword once more and turning away from the window. He had to rest. Tomorrow would be another long day of training, and he needed to be at his best. The Skyward Flow wasn't perfect yet, but he was getting closer. That was what mattered now. That was what he had to focus on.
But as he lay down on his bed, closing his eyes, the image of Lin's hesitant expression came back to him. The way Lin had looked at him earlier, the way his voice had faltered—it hadn't been an ordinary conversation. There had been something there, something Jian couldn't quite put his finger on. Something important.
*What did Lin know?* Jian wondered, his thoughts spiraling. *Was there something he wasn't telling me?*
His mind drifted back to the strange tension he had felt ever since the storm had passed. It had been subtle at first, barely noticeable, but now it was growing. And Lin's hesitation only made it worse.
Sleep did not come easily that night. Jian tossed and turned, his thoughts restless, his mind racing through possibilities. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of the darkening sky, of Lin's face, of the strange unease that had settled over the sect in recent days.
And then there was the storm. It had come and gone quickly, but its presence still lingered in Jian's mind. He couldn't help but wonder if it had been more than just a storm. Maybe it had been a warning, a sign of something to come. Something he wasn't yet prepared for.
The night wore on, and eventually, exhaustion overtook him. His thoughts slowed, his breathing steadied, and he drifted into a light, uneasy sleep.
Morning came with the same bright sunlight and crisp air as the day before. Jian awoke to the sound of birds singing outside his window, the cool breeze brushing against his face. For a moment, the unease from the night before seemed to fade, replaced by the warmth of the morning light.
But as he rose from his bed and prepared for the day ahead, the feeling returned. It was subtle, like a shadow lingering just at the edge of his awareness. No one else seemed to notice it. The other disciples went about their morning routines as usual, their conversations light and easy. But Jian couldn't shake the sense that something was coming.
As he walked toward the training grounds once more, he found himself scanning the skies for any sign of the dark clouds that had haunted his dreams. But the sky was clear, the sun shining brightly overhead. It was a perfect day for training.
And yet, the unease persisted.
Jian tried to push it from his mind as he resumed his practice. The Skyward Flow still needed work, and he couldn't afford to let his mind wander. He moved through the motions again, focusing on the feel of the energy flowing through his body, the connection between his feet and the ground, his hands and the sword.
But every now and then, his thoughts drifted back to Lin. To the way he had hesitated, the way he had looked at Jian as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. Jian couldn't help but wonder what Lin had been holding back. And more importantly, why.