Liu Changfeng's voice echoed through the courtyard, steady and deep, "Flowing Water Force thrives on continuity, like an endless river." He stood amidst the blue-stone pave, his blue robe fluttering faintly, the Liu Wind Sword at his waist a silent promise. Morning light spilled over the yard, dappling the ground beneath sea棠 trees, petals drifting onto the stone like fleeting embers. Fu Bo lingered nearby, his blackwood staff in hand, eyes calm as still water, the willow-leaf carving catching faint glints. Ling Yingjue faced him, coarse tunic damp with sweat, the Soul-Piercing Cone at his waist, his sharp face set with focus. He bowed, "Thank you, Master Liu, for your guidance."
Liu Changfeng gestured, and Fu Bo hauled forth a slab of bluestone, half a man's height, its surface slick with dew. "Try striking it with your cone," Liu Changfeng instructed. Ling Yingjue nodded, drawing the Soul-Piercing Cone, his wrist snapping as the broad end crashed down, a thunderous roar splitting the air—bang!—the stone split with a jagged seam, but held firm. He exhaled sharply, arms tingling, silently stunned: his strength fell short against its solidity. Liu Changfeng shook his head, "Forceful, but scattered. Flowing Water Force flows—guides power, not just unleashes it." His palm met the stone, a soft pat sounding as energy rippled through like water, shattering it into smooth fragments. "Guide your inner force—see how far you get," he said, stepping back.
Ling Yingjue focused, Tidal Force stirring within, a faint wave of energy channeling into the cone. He struck again, the broad end smashing down, the chain whipping out to coil the stone, a surge of force splintering it further—yet it didn't crumble. "Still not enough," he murmured, breath heavy. Liu Changfeng nodded, "Your talent's there—time will hone it. Flowing Water starts with gathering strength, then borrowing it." His gaze flicked beyond the yard, a shadow crossing his face, "Blood Blade won't rest—stay sharp, young hero."
Beyond the trees, Zhang Lie sat astride his steed, broad blade across his lap, its red-tinged edge glinting in the dawn. His bulk strained his dark robe, a black cloak bearing a crimson wolf's head fluttering behind. Five lackeys flanked him, knives drawn, their fishbone-etched hilts a brutal mark of the Blood Blade League. The wind sharpened, leaves rustling, Zhang Lie's eyes cold as he stared toward Liu Village, "That kid's tougher than he looks—Liu Village won't shield him long."
A wiry scout muttered, "Boss, that shadow last night—who was it? Even you held back." Zhang Lie grunted, "No clue—too fast for normal folk. Keep watch on Liu Village; the jade's with that brat." Hooves thudded as another rider galloped up, dismounting, "Boss, Liu Changfeng hit Jiaxing docks last night—digging into something." Zhang Lie's gaze tightened, "He's quick. Third's on it?" The scout shook his head, "No word yet, but the docks buzzed about a swift shadow—same as yesterday."
Zhang Lie gripped his blade, "Tell Third to lock down Jiaxing—Liu can't get ahead. Tonight, we raid Liu Village; Changfeng's gone—it's ours." His sneer deepened, "That shadow shows again, I'll test its mettle." The scout vanished into the woods, wind swallowing the echo as Zhang Lie's men faded into shadow.
Inside the guest room, Liu Shan'er nudged the door open, a bowl of steaming fish soup in hand, her green skirt swaying, sword at her hip. She set it on the table, grinning, "Brother Ling, try this—freshly made, with ginger to warm you up." The soup shimmered, pale and fragrant, ginger threads afloat. Ling Yingjue sat by the bed, tunic sweat-soaked, accepting the bowl with a nod. He sipped, the fresh taste laced with spice warming his core, "Thanks, Shan'er."
She plopped down, chin in hand, eyes curious, "Brother Ling, that cone's wild—scared off Zhang Lie yesterday!" Ling Yingjue set the bowl aside, "Luck and a strange tool. I'm not sure I'd hold next time." His gaze drifted, replaying the fight. Liu Shan'er tilted her head, "Father says your inner force is raw—he'll teach you Flowing Water Force. Come to the yard; he's waiting." Her voice bubbled with cheer, tugging him up as he smiled faintly, following her out, the morning breeze cool against his skin.
In the yard, Liu Shan'er drew her sword, a light cry escaping as its gleam danced like spring rain, the "Spring Rain Sword" style unfurling with "Silent Drizzle," piercing toward Ling Yingjue's chest. Her Willow Wisp Force flowed soft and tough, moves subtle as ripples. Ling Yingjue swung the cone, chain lashing out to snare her blade, a tug stalling her strike—Liu Shan'er stepped back, laughing, "Brother Ling, that chain's cheating!" She struck again, "Rain Over Jiangnan" weaving a tight net toward his left.
Ling Yingjue swept the cone's broad end, a sharp clang deflecting her sword—he leapt back, the narrow tip flashing toward her shoulder. Liu Changfeng called, "Focus your force, don't just clash!" Ling Yingjue adjusted, Tidal Force channeling into the cone, softening the thrust's edge; Liu Shan'er parried, grinning, "Better!" She stepped aside, sheathing her blade, cheeks flushed with delight.
Liu Changfeng nodded, "Good roots—Flowing Water takes time. Rest now." His eyes flicked to the woods, "Shan'er, young hero—Blood Blade's coming. Stay wary." Ling Yingjue bowed, "Thank you, Master Liu." He mused: if he could blend Flowing Water Force, the cone might reveal more tricks. Glancing at Liu Shan'er's bright smile, resolve hardened—he'd shield this family that had taken him in.