"Senior Brother, I choose to exchange for the flowing sword slash and the dancing sword step. "
"Are you sure?" Hearing Xue Mo words, the disciple at the Technique Exchange Pavilion looked at him.
Since he was in charge, he naturally knew about these two techniques.
Flowing Sword Slash emphasizes complete uninterrupted movement and precise Qi flow. It requires control most outer sect disciples can't muster.
As for Dancing Sword Step, it's not just speed. It's rhythm, footwork, and spatial awareness. One mistake and you'll trip over your own sword, which was dangerous in a fight.
These two techniques were all very powerful, but they shared the same characteristics of being incredibly hard to master and how even the smallest mistakes are deadly.
Due to the difficulty, the contribution points required to be able to exchange for these two techniques was not much.
For Xue Mo, who was a saint realm expert in his previous life, these two were easy to master and also considering he didn't have many contribution points, these were the best options.
"Confirmed." Xue Mo nodded in affirmation.
With no ties between them, the disciple said no more.
He looked at Xue Mo as if he was looking at an idiot. Then he handed the paper with the name of the cultivation techniques to the Technique Exchange Pavilion.
Before long, a disciple came with two scrolls in his hands.
Putting the scrolls on the table, the disciple in charge of the Technique Exchange Pavilion took out the equipment for transferring contribution points and said, "Put your token, 110 contribution points for both scrolls."
Xue Mo simply reached into his robe and pulled out his token, then inserted it into the equipment.
After confirming that there were no mistakes, the disciple of the Technique Exchange Pavilion handed the two scrolls to Xue Mo.
"The techniques obtained from the exchange can't be taught privately, and anyone who violates this rule will be subject to disciplinary actions by the sect"
"Thank you, Senior Brother." Xue Mo received the scrolls containing the techniques, bowed, and left.
Looking at Xue Mo departing figure, the disciple of the Technique Exchange Pavilion sneered. "You really don't know what's good for you."
...
Back in his cave, Xue Mo sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor. The silence was comforting—no distractions, no prying eyes—just him and the path ahead.
He picked up the scroll containing the Flowing Sword Slash and slowly unfurled it. The parchment gave off a faint herbal scent, typical of techniques preserved by the sect.
The first few lines were a poetic introduction, talking about how a sword should flow like a river, smooth and without resistance. But Xue Mo didn't care for flowery language. His eyes scanned downward until he reached the real meat of the technique—the Qi circulation route and movement principles.
"It's focused on control," he muttered.
The technique emphasized using the Du and Ren Meridians in a loop, creating a constant, seamless flow of Qi. Most outer sect disciples struggled here, lacking the precision needed to manage the narrow paths and the sensitivity to keep the Qi from leaking or clogging.
Xue Mo, however, was different.
In his previous life, he had already pushed his body to extremes. He had cultivated forbidden arts, burned his own blood essence, and had even cracked open his meridians forcibly during a demonic ascension ritual. Compared to that, this was like breathing.
With a slow exhale, he closed his eyes and drew Qi from his dantian.
A cool stream of energy surged upward, slipping into the Ren Meridian along his torso. From there, he guided it into the Chong Meridian, then into the Heart Meridian, and out toward his arms.
This was the first rotation.
His fingers trembled faintly as the Qi passed through, but he smiled. It wasn't from pain—it was memory. His meridians, though not yet tempered in this life, still followed his will like loyal soldiers.
He looped the Qi backward into the Du Meridian along his spine, connecting it back to his dantian. The circulation continued. No rush, no break. Just a steady cycle.
One time.
Two.
Three.
By the fourth cycle, the pain began. Not real pain to him—but to an ordinary disciple, it would feel like needles pushing through flesh, every pulse scraping against untrained channels.
He felt heat build in his back and arms. His clothes clung to his skin, damp from sweat.
Instead of pausing, he pressed on.
Eight rotations.
Each time, the Qi grew smoother. The rough patches in his flow began to wear down. It was like a river carving its path deeper with every pass.
He subtly adjusted his breathing—inhale for gathering, exhale for expansion. As he breathed out, he let his mind picture the sword's motion: a slow arc cutting through the air, uninterrupted from start to finish.
He repeated this mental sword swing seven times, syncing it with his internal Qi movement. Every imagined cut taught his muscles something. A tiny twitch here, a minor adjustment there.
Then, on the sixth minute of his focused rhythm, a shift occurred.
The energy in his arms no longer felt separate from the sword. It was like the blade had become an extension of his Qi, and his Qi an extension of his will.
His heart rate slowed. His breathing deepened.
Time passed.
He completed five more internal circulations. By now, he could predict every movement of his Qi. There was no longer hesitation or roughness. The technique, which once seemed complicated, now felt... natural.
Xue Mo opened his eyes.
A silver gleam flashed in his pupils—sharp and still like moonlight on steel.
He rose to his feet. Picking up the wooden training sword beside him, he faced the cave wall.
One slow slash.
That was all.
No sword Qi emerged. No wind howled from the motion.
But the sword moved without pause, like water gliding across polished jade. A perfect arc, steady and smooth.
"It's coming together," he said calmly.
His legs shifted slightly. Even in the basic stance, he adjusted his weight perfectly. He simulated another few slashes—three this time—refining the feeling of momentum.
He returned to a seated position again, his breathing steady.
Now he began fine-tuning the technique.
He directed his Qi into his two arms separately, experimenting with isolated flow. Right arm only. Then left. Then both together. Each time, he visualized how the sword would respond—if the weight was off, if the flow broke, if an opening appeared.
It was a meticulous process. Repetitive. Most would find it tedious.
But for Xue Mo?
This was nothing for a person of his level.
After an hour and a half of silent cultivation, he stood again.
Another slow slash.
Then another.
And another.
Three flawless arcs. Still no sword Qi—but the movement carried a pressure of its own, subtle but unshakable.
"The foundation is set," he murmured.
Without wasting time, Xue Mo sat down again and opened the scroll containing the Dancing Sword Step technique.
This one was different.
Where Flowing Sword Slash demanded fluid Qi and refined control, Dancing Sword Step emphasized agility, sharp spatial awareness, and instantaneous changes in momentum. The scroll spoke of adaptability—moving like wind, shifting like shadow.
The foundation lay in using the Yang Heel Meridian for explosive speed and the Yin Heel Meridian for control, grace, and balance.
Qi had to be drawn from the dantian into the Chong Meridian, then split into the lower limbs—especially the Leg Shaoyang Gallbladder Meridian and the Leg Taiyang Bladder Meridian. These governed side movements, acceleration, and stabilization.
Xue Mo didn't hesitate.
He inhaled, pulling in Qi, and forced it downward. Unlike the slow, river-like pace of Flowing Sword Slash, this required sudden surges—flashes of power that moved between channels like lightning crackling through wires.
Most outer sect disciples would falter here. The rapid switching between meridians made it easy to trip over one's own Qi, causing stumbles, cramps, or worse.
But for Xue Mo?
This was nothing.
He had cultivated countless techniques, all of which were harder to cultivate than anything this sect had.
With that in mind, he cycled his Qi eight times, pushing it through both heel meridians, then redirecting it into his thighs, calves, and feet.
On the eighth cycle, he forced a sudden reversal of flow—Qi that surged into the Yang Heel Meridian was pulled back into the Yin Heel, smoothing out the transitions.
His legs shook slightly. Not from weakness, but from restraint. His muscles wanted to move—to leap, spin, dash forward. He held them still with sheer control.
He adjusted his breathing again. One beat for burst, one beat for shift. He kept the rhythm and moved into mental simulation.
He pictured the footwork.
A dash to the side.
A twist.
A backstep followed by a forward leap.
Seven distinct steps, each involving weight shifts, redirection, and pivots. He practiced them in his mind, syncing every motion to his breath and Qi flow.
Then came the sixth minute.
He rose.
No hesitation.
He took a single step forward—light and silent. Another to the left. A spin on the ball of his foot, then a lunge. Each movement connected seamlessly. His body was like water in motion, but with a deadly edge. There was speed, but also grace. Like a sword dancing.
He simulated the technique five more times, each loop refining his weight placement and Qi flow. Sometimes he shifted faster, other times slower, always adjusting to maintain perfect balance.
Sweat trickled down his spine, yet his eyes remained sharp—focused.
He paused.
There was one flaw.
During the third dash, he noticed a delay—a momentary lag where Qi transition between heel meridians wasn't smooth.
Most wouldn't even feel it.
But Xue Mo did.
Without blinking, he sat again and dove into another round of internal adjustment. He slowed the flow at that specific point and retrained the Qi to behave properly—less brute force, more precision.
Only after solving that flaw did he rise.
He repeated the footwork—two smooth passes from start to finish.
Perfect.
The subtle shift in weight, the invisible tension before a movement—all of it was now under control. His body responded like a blade in its master's grip.
Still, this was just the beginning.
"It'll need refining," Xue Mo muttered, eyes narrowing. "But these two techniques will have to do for now."
His calm tone betrayed nothing—but in his heart, he was already calculating.
Two techniques. One for offense. One for mobility.
Enough to deal with outer sect competition.
Enough to begin climbing.
With a final breath, Xue Mo closed his eyes again, and the low hum of cultivation resumed in the quiet of the cave.