Time flew like leaves on a stream; twenty days blinked past like morning frost melting in sun.

In that span, my Sword Aura shifted from mass to essence, like mist hardening into ice, and I even forged Sword Aura techniques of my own, like stars linked into constellations.

Under Xinuo’s guidance, a week felt like bamboo shooting up after rain, and the principles of Sword Aura techniques finally clicked like flint striking steel.

One by one, I birthed a few personal forms, like carving sigils into wind, each cut tracing light across the dark.

They were stronger than ordinary sword forms, like thunder compared to drizzle, so I got obsessed and forgot the basics, like a climber ignoring footholds for clouds.

“Ordinary sword techniques are the foundation of Sword Aura techniques,” Xinuo said, her voice cool as moonlight on water. “Servant, if you ignore the base, your priorities drift like a boat without a rudder.”

Shame hit me like cold rain, and my chest tightened like a knot in old rope.

I shifted focus back to ordinary forms, like planting roots deep before chasing the sky, and let the Sword Aura techniques move in lockstep with them like twin rivers.

After those full twenty days, my strength felt remade, like bone fired anew in a kiln and sinew tempered like steel.

A month ago I was a common man, a grain in the field; now I barely knew that shadow in the mirror, like a cocoon forgetting its worm.

Then I hit a wall, a bottleneck like a cliff in fog, and no step would land.

Xinuo said solo practice, even with guidance, surges early like spring flood, but stalls without battle, like a pond gone still without wind.

I agreed; something felt missing, like a bead not threaded, and my forms wouldn’t chain, like links refusing a ring.

Blending ordinary sword with Sword Aura left me blank, like staring at ink and missing the poem.

So today’s task wasn’t drills but combat, words like flint in my gut throwing sparks.

I winced at the thought of Xinuo crushing me again like a mountain shadow swallowing a path.

Our strength gap was a canyon, and even if she held back, I’d drown like a leaf in rapids.

I wished for a peer, a fair match like blades crossing under starlight, when Xinuo stepped back into the room with something furry in hand, like a cloud caught by the scruff.

“Servant, I found a magical beast,” she said, voice light as a breeze. “You’ll fight it today.”

She flicked the bundle into my arms like tossing a puff of dandelion.

“Meow meow!!” The protest was tiny and sharp, like a bell in a teacup, and I looked down as if drawn by silk thread.

A cat, small as cupped snow, white fur soft as down, and round green eyes flashing that “dare not speak” glare at Xinuo like a candle under a lid—too cute by half.

“Wow! Sister Xinuo, where did you find such a cute cat?” I blurted, joy rising like dawn on fresh snow.

“Yeah, it’s adorable,” my little sister Littlesky chimed in, voice bubbling like a brook. “Serenemoon and I scoured the Lunar Forest, and we never found one like this.”

They stroked its plush body like kneading warm clouds, while it meowed its protest like a tiny drum—ignored and pitiable as a sparrow in rain.

“My opponent?” I asked, torn like paper between heart and blade, even as my hand sank into that silken fur.

“Yes,” Xinuo said, popping a dessert in her mouth like a petal on her tongue. “You’ll spar it and harden your experience like steel in quench.”

“Eh? No way. It looks like a normal kitten,” I said, throat tight like a string pulled taut.

And it was so cute; my heart twisted like ivy around a post, and my palm paused on its head like snow on a branch.

“This is too cruel!” Littlesky said, eyes shining like stars. “Let’s find a big guy for Brother, and keep the kitten to play with us.”

“Littlesky’s idea is sweet as honey,” Serenemoon sang, her laugh like chimes in wind, “but since Xinuo Miss said this, she must have her reason; let’s see first.”

Their mood matched mine, soft as dusk.

“It does look pleasing,” Xinuo said at last, words flat as a lake at night, and she lifted the kitten from my arms like plucking a plum.

“But it’s a magical beast. It’s in its juvenile stage, weak as a candle, yet perfect as a whetstone for Servant right now.”

“Eh…” The sound left me like breath on glass; even knowing it’s a beast, that cuteness was a blade in reverse.

“Don’t be fooled by its fur,” Xinuo said, voice crisp as frost. “Follow me.”

We trailed her out, feet brushing the floor like leaves skimming water, and left the room like birds leaving a bough.

…

At the Lunar Forest’s edge, the trees stood like spears under a pale sky, and the wind smelled of moss like cool tea.

Xinuo tossed the kitten down like a snowball. “Drop the act. Show your battle form.”

“Meow…” The sound was reluctant, like a string plucked out of tune, yet it obeyed, powerless as a moth near flame.

White light flashed like lightning across a pond, and the tiny body swelled until it matched a lion in size, mane of fluff like a cloudbank—still more cat than lion, still disarmingly cute.

“It’s called a lioncat,” Xinuo said, words quick as a knife. “Born of a Moon-Sky Lion and a Mirage Cat, it inherited the best like a grafted branch bearing twin blooms.”

“Meow meow!” The lioncat protested, ears twitching like flags, unhappy with her casual naming like a crown set askew.

“Quiet,” she said, cool as snowfall. “Beat Servant, and you go free like a hawk loosed to sky.”

“Meow!” it answered, firm as a drumbeat, eyes bright with battle light like embers in night, and it stared me down with a “meow meow!” like a gauntlet flung.

I couldn’t parse its words, like wind speaking through reeds, but the challenge was clear as thunderheads gathering.

“So cute!” Littlesky gasped, delight fluttering like butterflies. “Brother, go easy!”

“Agreed—too cute,” Serenemoon laughed, fingers already sinking into its fur like hands in wheat.

“Meow meow!” The lioncat’s sigh was pure exasperation, like a cat stuck in rain.

“Enough. Begin,” Xinuo said, pulling the two away like waves dragging foam, and leaving me and the lioncat facing off like two stones in a stream.

A fight should feel solemn, like temple bells at dusk, but one look at that fluff and a smile tugged my mouth like a fish on line.

“Meow!” It spat a fireball the size of a barrel, heat rolling like a desert wind, and the battle rang out like a bell.

I smothered my grin like a candle under a cup, gathered Sword Aura like drawing breath, and swung.

Boom!! The blast punched the air like a hammer, and I was half a step late, the shockwave licking me like wildfire.

I’d already leapt back a few steps, feet light as sparrows, and the blow missed like rain skimming eaves; I exhaled, thin as fog.

A blur flashed; the lioncat’s body smeared into afterimage like a comet’s tail, and danger pricked my nape like ice.

I spun and cut upward with the Shattered Light Sword, blade singing like a lark, and—

Clang! Its claws pinned my sword like iron tines, and its jaws opened like a furnace door to vomit new fireballs.

Too close—no way to block, like waves breaking on my chest—so I pulled the slash, sprang back like a deer, and flung Sword Aura cuts ahead like crescent moons.

Sensing danger, it blurred again, a ghost slipping behind me like a shadow at noon.

Another sneak attack? The thought sparked like flint, and then its body split into two like a mirror cracking, both lunging with mirrored fury.

“What the—illusion?!” The word tasted like copper, and I sank into a half-crouch like a coiled spring, the Shattered Light horizontal at my waist like a waiting crescent.

I packed Sword Aura fast as a stormfront, and loosed in a Draw Sword Technique, an arc sweeping wide like a gust through reeds.

One lioncat turned glassy as fog, the Sword Aura passing through like wind through smoke, and I remembered Xinuo’s line about Moon-Sky Lion and Mirage Cat like a lantern lighting old script.

No time to dwell; the real one slipped aside from my slash like a fish through reeds and charged, swift as a flame’s lick.

My vision dimmed like clouds blotting sun, and red heat flooded the edges like molten dusk.

Hate that feeling; a ring of fireballs bloomed around me like a crown of meteors—eight or nine blazing suns.

No room to dodge; I had to meet them head-on like a tide against rocks.

I bit down, swung the Draw Sword Technique again, and the arc ripped out like a white squall.

Boom!! The explosion roared even harder, a thunderhead breaking over the treeline, and desperation lit my mind like flares.

I threw up a wall of Sword Aura, a pane of light like ice, and hunched behind it like a traveler under a storm cloak.

A few seconds crawled by like ants; the shock faded like last rain, and the Aura wall shattered like brittle glass.

Pale-faced, I panted, breath ragged as torn silk, and thought how Littlesky told me to go easy—wrong target, like pointing at the moon and scolding the lake.

“Meow!” The lioncat sounded surprised, head cocked like a hawk, then it opened its mouth wide and drank the surrounding elements like a whale gulping tide.

Mana gathered thick as fireflies; in front of that gaping maw, a huge sphere swelled, larger than its body like a second moon.

Not just fire—ice braided with flame like frost and ember clasped, two rivals married into one, the fusion clean as ink in water.

Creatures that live on the Central Continent aren’t ordinary, I thought, awe pricking like needles, but this wasn’t the time to marvel like a poet at dawn.

Its spell neared completion like a storm’s last breath, and as my strength crept back like heat into cold fingers, I poured Sword Aura into the Shattered Light, up to my limit like filling a wineskin to the brim.

We finished in the same heartbeat, like two drums striking together.

“Meow!” the lioncat cried, voice a flare, and I answered, “Sword Aura Slash!” like a bell across the valley.

The titanic ice-fire sphere met my golden Sword Aura like two waves colliding—no mountain-splitting blast, just the sphere swallowing the slash like a whale taking a fish.

It shrank by nine-tenths, to fist-size and diamond-tight, its speed spiking like lightning uncoiled.

Not good; my stamina was a guttering lamp, and gathering more Aura felt like gripping smoke.

Dodging was a dream, the sphere an arrow in flight, so I raised my blade and spent the last of me like coins on the table.

I brought the cut down hard as a falling axe and met the sphere point-on like winter biting spring.

Clang!! The ice-fire ball split cleanly, neat as silk under a sharp knife, and fell in halves like two petals.

Relief rose—then froze, because the ignored phantom reappeared behind me like a shadow stepping out of the wall, and it meowed with a taunting lilt like a cat knocking glass off a sill.

…