38 Slashed
Miao Ying's eyes widened in shock as the elder's counterattack came at him with blinding speed, a storm of heavy air that seemed to swallow the world.
Each strike was a masterpiece of the Houtian realm, a testament to centuries of dedication and refinement.
In the face of such overwhelming mastery, Miao Ying knew that he was facing an opponent far beyond his current level.
But he did not falter. With a defiant shout, he threw himself into the path of the elder's sword, his own blade flashing out to meet the onslaught head-on.
As the barrage of heavy air bore down on him like a tidal wave, Miao Ying drew upon every scrap of lightning Qi he possessed, channeling it into his legs until his veins pulsed with crackling arcs of electricity.
With a burst of speed that left even the elder momentarily stunned, Miao Ying sidestepped the first wave of attacks, his body blurring into a streak of golden that danced between the deadly strikes like a leaf caught in a gale.
His sword spun and wove, leaving trails of afterimages in its wake as he parried and deflected, his arms moving in a constant blur of motion.
But the elder was relentless, his assault as inexorable as the rising tide. His sword was everywhere at once, a dizzying pattern of light and shadow that seemed to come from every direction simultaneously.
Miao Ying could feel himself being driven back, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to keep up with the elder's inhuman speed.
And then, in a moment of pure serendipity, he saw it—a hairline fracture in the elder's defense, a single, infinitesimal gap in the whirling dervish of his sword work.
It was a tiny imperfection, a minute flaw that even the elder himself was unaware of, a weakness that might have gone unnoticed by any other opponent.
But Miao Ying seized upon it with the desperation of a drowning man grasping at a lifeline.
With a final, desperate lunge, he hurled himself forward, his sword lashing out like a bolt of lightning. He felt the blade connect, felt it slide through the elder's guard with impossible precision, and then—
'Chi!'
A spurt of blood painted the air crimson.
The elder's spirit sword grazed across Miao Ying's chest, the deadly slash carving through his Dao robes and natural Qi defenses as easily as a knife through silk. A horrifying gash blossomed across his torso, a wound that would have been instantly fatal to any lesser cultivator.
But even as agony exploded through his body, Miao Ying's focus never wavered.
With a final, decisive strike, he slammed his spirit sword into the flat of the elder's blade, the impact sending a shockwave reverberating through the air.
'Chi!'
Another flash of light, blindingly bright.
Jue and Xue Qingcheng instinctively shut their eyes, the afterimage of the clash seared into their retinas. When they opened them again, they stared in disbelief at the scene before them.
Miao Ying's spirit sword was embedded in the flat of the elder's blade, the point driven nearly an inch into the peerless spirit metal.
For a moment, the two combatants remained locked together, their eyes meeting over the crossed blades. Then, with calm ease, the elder stepped back, his sword nearly falling from his grasp.
At the same time, Miao Ying sank to one knee, his breath coming in short, agonized gasps. One hand clutched at the horrific wound on his chest, trying futilely to stem the tide of blood that soaked his robes a darker shade of crimson. The pain was excruciating, a searing agony that threatened to consume his every thought.
Jue and Xue Qingcheng could only stare in awe, their hearts pounding in their chests. They had never seen anyone, let alone someone at Miao Ying's level, display such an insane tolerance for pain.
Jue knew that if she had been in his place, she would have been writhing on the ground, her mind shattered by the sheer agony of such a wound.
Xue Qingcheng, too, felt a strange tightness in her chest as she gazed upon Miao Ying's battered form. It was an unfamiliar feeling, a mix of admiration and something else, something she couldn't quite put a name to. All she knew was that at that moment, seeing him standing tall despite his injuries, she felt a stirring of emotion that she had never experienced before.
Despite the clear disparity in their strength, the sword elder's face was a mask of astonishment.
To think that Miao Ying, a mere 2nd stage Qi Establishment cultivator, had come so close to passing his test in just a few exchanges!
It was unheard of, a testament to the young man's incredible potential.
As he slowly sheathed his sword, the elder's eyes shone with a fierce light, the look of a man who had just witnessed the birth of a legend.
"You have done well, young Miao Ying," he said, his voice ringing out across the wasteland. "Though you could not win this bout, your performance was truly exceptional. I will be sure to inform the other elders of your deed."
Miao Ying could only nod, too drained to muster a verbal response.
The elder turned to Jue and Xue Qingcheng, his gaze sharp and assessing.
"And you two," he said, "I trust that you have learned something from this display?"
The two young women nodded vigorously, their eyes still wide with wonder.
"Good," the elder said. "Then I will leave you to your practice. Remember, the path of the sword is one of endless refinement. There is always more to learn, always room to grow."
With those parting words, he turned and strode away, his robes billowing in the wind.
Miao Ying watched him go, a faint smile playing across his lips despite the pain that wracked his body. The elder's words resonated deeply within him, a confirmation of the philosophy he had always held dear.
No matter how far he climbed, there would always be new heights to reach and new challenges to overcome.
With a swift motion, he retrieved a high-grade spirit pill from his spatial ring and popped it into his mouth. Instantly, he felt the medicinal energy suffusing his body, knitting flesh and bone back together with astonishing speed. The pain receded to a dull ache, and the bleeding slowed to a trickle.
He glanced over at Xue Qingcheng, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.
"Stick around if you'd like," he said, his voice casual despite the severity of his injuries. "I have some things to ponder."
Without waiting for a response, he shot off like an arrow from a bow, his figure quickly disappearing into the distance.
Jue and Xue Qingcheng exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them.
"We have our own comprehensions to pursue, Sister Jue," Xue Qingcheng said, her voice thrumming with determination. "Brother Miao's display has sparked a fire within me. I feel as though I'm on the cusp of a breakthrough."
Jue nodded, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "I know what you mean. Watching him... it was like seeing the Sword Dao itself in motion. We can't let ourselves fall behind."
With renewed resolve, the two women turned to their own training, each determined to etch the lessons of this day into their very souls. They had witnessed something truly extraordinary, a display of skill and fortitude that defied belief. And they knew, with a certainty that bordered on prescience, that this was only the beginning.
...
Night soon fell over the Blazing Sun Sect.
Miao Ying stayed diligently cultivating in his courtyard, the sharp presence of a sword once again swirling around him like a deadly cocoon.
Trading blows with that sword elder had truly expanded his mind even more—the way he slashed out his sword, doing a specific stance to maximize everything in one strike attuned him more to the design of wielding the sword.
As his Sword Intent comprehension grew, Miao Ying also took the time to absorb more lightning and Qi essence into his Qi Seed and draw more worldly lightning essence into the ever-present stream of lightning flowing through his body.
It was a delicate balance, to harmonize these different energies within himself. But Miao Ying had always excelled at walking the edge, at pushing himself to the brink of what was possible.
