28: Chapter 28 The Eastern Heretic Transmits His Techniques, Controlling Swords with Qi

After a night of meditation, the Internal Energy in his Dantian had become a bit more solidified.

Yang Yuan opened his eyes; the sky was just beginning to brighten.

The fourth level of the Nine Yang Manual had stabilized.

His Internal Energy flowed much more smoothly; after each cycle, his Dantian grew a degree hotter, as if a ball of fire were slowly burning in his belly.

Yang Yuan picked up his single-edged saber and walked to the center of the courtyard.

Saber practice.

He poured his Internal Energy into the blade, causing it to hum and vibrate.

He slashed out—no specific Move—and the air split with a sharp whistle.

A peach tree three zhang away had a gash torn into its bark.

He hadn't used the edge of the blade to chop; it was cut by Saber Qi.

He had achieved the principle Huang Yaoshi spoke of.

But it was still not enough.

The Saber Qi was too short and too weak; if a master were standing opposite him, he wouldn't even be able to break through their protective True Qi.

He had to keep practicing.

Slash after slash. The gashes on the peach tree kept adding up.

Breakfast. Cheng Ying brought over a bowl of porridge and glanced at the calluses on his hands.

"Practiced all morning again?"

"Yeah." Yang Yuan took the porridge, blew on it, and took a sip.

Cheng Ying sat opposite him, holding little Xue Jian in her arms, who was grabbing a bamboo flute and stuffing it into her mouth, chewing until she was covered in slobber.

"Your hands are trembling more than yesterday," Cheng Ying said. "You've consumed too much Internal Energy; take it easy."

Yang Yuan looked down—the hand holding the bowl was shaking. He had practiced all morning, and his Internal Energy was significantly depleted.

"I know."

Cheng Ying didn't say anything more. She couldn't stop him.

In the afternoon, at the Shen hour, Huang Yaoshi arrived on time.

He stood at the courtyard entrance, looking at the saber marks covering the yard, and his brows twitched.

"Practiced all morning?"

"Yeah."

Huang Yaoshi walked to the peach tree and reached out to touch the deepest gash—two inches deep, smooth, cut by Saber Qi.

"Controlling the sword with Qi—you've entered the gate. But you're still far off."

"Please, Island Master Huang, give me your guidance."

"Was that your full strength just now?"

"Yes."

"A full-strength strike, and the Saber Qi only cuts two inches of bark," Huang Yaoshi said in an even tone. "If a first-rate master were standing opposite you, you wouldn't even be able to touch the hem of their clothes."

Yang Yuan did not refute this.

"The key to controlling the sword with Qi is control." Huang Yaoshi pulled out a wooden stick. "When you strike, is your Internal Energy running wild inside the blade?"

Yang Yuan was stunned for a moment. Indeed, the Internal Energy he poured in was like a wild horse charging about, and most of it was wasted.

"You can't just stuff it in and call it a day." Huang Yaoshi flicked his wrist, and the wooden stick thrust out gently. "Treat Internal Energy as water, and the weapon as the riverbed. Water should follow the riverbed; if it flows wildly, you can't exert any force."

The wooden stick didn't touch anything, yet a patch of peach blossoms three zhang away split silently in two.

Yang Yuan's pupils constricted.

This was the true Realm. His Internal Energy was as obedient as an arm or finger, without a single bit wasted.

"Your potential is good, but your Foundation is too shallow."

Huang Yaoshi retracted the wooden stick. "You've practiced the Nine Yang Manual to the fourth level, but your control over Internal Energy remains at the stage of brute force. Only when you reach the sixth level will you be able to control it freely."

"Thank you for your guidance, Island Master Huang."

"I won't teach Xue Jian today." Huang Yaoshi put the wooden stick back on the weapon rack. "Follow me."

Yang Yuan followed Huang Yaoshi, passing through the Peach Forest toward the center of the island.

The peach trees on both sides of the path were planted densely, secretly conforming to some kind of Formation. As he walked, Yang Yuan etched every turn into his memory.

After the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the view suddenly opened up.

In the center of the clearing stood a massive boulder, with the characters "Trial of the Sword" engraved upon it. The brush strokes were three points deep into the stone, the work of the same person who had inscribed the entrance to the Forbidden Ground.

"I used this stone for practice when I was young." Huang Yaoshi stood before the stone. "What you need to do today is leave a mark on it using your full strength."

The boulder was taller than a person, its surface as smooth as a mirror. Yang Yuan knocked on it with his knuckles—it was solid and as hard as iron.

He drew his saber, took a deep breath, and poured his Internal Energy into the blade.

He swung the saber—

"Clang!"

The blade struck the stone, sending sparks flying.

A shallow white mark, less than half an inch deep, was all that remained on the surface of the boulder.

Yang Yuan looked at the mark: A full-strength strike, and he couldn't even leave a proper mark?

"Again."

Yang Yuan gritted his teeth and poured all of his fourth-level Nine Yang Internal Energy into the blade. The blade turned searing hot and red, vibrating and humming.

"Hah!"

He slashed down. The sparks were even more intense.

The white mark was a bit deeper, but still less than an inch.

Yang Yuan panted heavily, his thumb-web area numb from the vibration, and his right arm trembling.

Huang Yaoshi walked to the stone and brushed his hand across its surface.

"Did you see it?"

Yang Yuan nodded.

"Your Internal Energy is thick, but you cannot control it. It's like a strong man swinging a heavy hammer—he has strength, but he can't aim accurately and can't stop it."

Huang Yaoshi turned around. "What you lack right now is more precise control. No matter how thick your Internal Energy is, if you can't control it, it's all in vain."

He reached out and tapped several Acupoints on Yang Yuan's wrist.

"The flow of Internal Energy isn't limited to the Meridians. Have you ever tried using your intent to guide the Internal Energy to rotate inside the blade?"

Yang Yuan was stunned.

Rotate?

"Qi can travel in a straight line, but it can also rotate. Rotating Qi is more stable and has stronger penetrating power," Huang Yaoshi said. "Go back and try it."

When Yang Yuan returned to the small courtyard, it was nearly dark.

He stood in the courtyard, drew his single-edged saber, and tried to guide the Internal Energy to rotate inside the blade as Huang Yaoshi had described.

It didn't go well at first. After trying more than a dozen times, sweat seeped from his forehead.

On the nineteenth try, he suddenly found the feeling—the Internal Energy was slowly rotating inside the blade, like water flowing in a spiral along a channel.

The blade emitted a low hum.

Yang Yuan opened his eyes. He didn't swing the saber; he just pointed the tip at a loose blue brick on the courtyard wall and gave it a gentle thrust.

The moment the tip of the blade touched the blue brick, it split into two. The cut was as smooth as a knife slicing through tofu.

Yang Yuan looked at the brick, stunned for a moment.

He smiled.

So, rotating Internal Energy could increase penetrating power by this much. What Huang Yaoshi taught him today was a method of exerting force, not a Move.

He sheathed his saber and walked into the house.

Cheng Ying was coaxing little Xue Jian to sleep. Seeing him enter, she asked softly, "Finished practicing?"

"Yeah." Yang Yuan walked to the bedside and sat down.

Cheng Ying saw the smile on his lips. "Did you encounter something good?"

"I learned something new," Yang Yuan said. "It feels... pretty good."

Cheng Ying smiled and didn't press him further.

Night fell.

Yang Yuan sat cross-legged on the bed, continuing to practice the rotation of his Internal Energy.

He had already grasped the trick. Advancing while rotating was a bit slower than moving in a straight line, but it was more stable and more enduring. Moreover, the effect of expanding the Meridians was even better; it was like getting it for free.

He closed his eyes and guided his Internal Energy through three major cycles. The ball of Yang Qi in his Dantian felt as if it had been compressed, becoming more solidified and heavier.

He opened his eyes and exhaled a breath. The fourth level had moved forward another small step.

He got out of bed and walked to the window. The moonlight spilled onto the sea, sparkling and shimmering.

Life on Peach Blossom Island was very quiet and regular. Practicing martial arts, spending time with his wife and child, and waiting for Huang Yaoshi to come by and offer guidance.

But how long could this quiet last?

He glanced at Cheng Ying fast asleep on the bed, with little Xue Jian clutching the corner of her clothes. There was another one in her belly.

The Mongols, Li Mochou, that presence in the Northwest... he didn't have much time left to spend here.

Yang Yuan touched the note in his pocket, his fingertips brushing against the rough paper surface.

"To break the Heavenly Evil, one needs the Nine Yang. On Peach Blossom Island, one can find a path to survival."

He was on the island now. He had also practiced the Nine Yang Manual to the fourth level.

Where was the path to survival?

He frowned and stuffed the note back. He couldn't figure it out, so he decided to leave it for now.

He closed the window and blew out the lamp.

In the darkness, the sound of a flute drifted from outside the window.

It was Huang Yaoshi. The sound of the flute was distant and long, like waves crashing against reefs, or wind passing through a valley.

Yang Yuan closed his eyes and adjusted his breathing.

The rhythm of the flute and the circulation of his Internal Energy gradually merged, and his Nine Yang Inner Energy began to circulate automatically, completing a major cycle.

When he opened his eyes again, the flute music had stopped.

The moonlight was brighter than before.

Yang Yuan looked down at his palms—the pale golden light in his palms had brightened a degree more.

He clenched his fist.

It was soon. He had already touched the edge of the Bottleneck of the fifth level.