Jing’s presence melted into the lake, like mist dissolving into water, and I couldn’t feel him anymore.

And beyond that, he gave me a strange sensation—like I faced water, not a man.

Then Jing began to move; his steps flowed like ripples, light and drifting.

This time he didn’t dodge; he walked and swung his ice-blue tachi, carving down the thousands of swords flying at him.

His predictions surged, like a tide rising under a full moon.

He could foresee the flight and angle of tens of thousands of blades.

Is this still half-step Divine Realm? Even the Divine Realm shouldn’t touch this depth.

Shock hit me like cold rain, and I forgot to cast another art.

Sword Aura gathered on my Shattered Light Sword thinned like fog and bled away.

And he said something just now…

I remember—Mirror Calm Water.

So that’s why, from the first clash to now, he’s been dodging and parrying without a miss, like a fisherman finding every current.

I muttered as my heart sank like a stone into deep water.

Xinuo once lectured me about Mirror Calm Water.

Mirror Calm Water is a state of mind, like a moon reflected on still water.

Only those who reach the peak of martial or sword practice touch it.

Some rare wills grasp it early, like seeds sprouting in frost.

If you seek the peak of power, that mind-state is required, not optional.

It isn’t a heaven-breaking skill, just pure mind, like clear spring.

Its effect, in short: make the heart still and lucid, utterly calm.

From tiny signs—the face, a gesture, the wind’s shift, a thread of water sound—you predict the next move.

You read direction and range, like a hunter reading tracks.

The more complete the Mirror Calm Water, the truer the predictions, like stars aligning.

Once it grows into a domain, accuracy reaches ninety-nine percent, as steady as a mirrored lake.

Magic domains and law domains imitate this, like shadows chasing light.

But they can’t compare.

Those rely on law’s force to guess, and the hit rate isn’t high.

Mirror Calm Water uses what you see and feel, so its accuracy climbs like sunrise.

So an enemy who has grasped Mirror Calm Water is trouble, like reeds tangled in a river.

Harder than someone half a level above you.

…

Memory ended, and my mood fell like dusk over water.

Mirror Calm Water was stronger than I expected, and every move I made lay inside Jing’s forecast.

He blocked Myriad Swords Unleashed, a full-range storm; what else could breach him?

What do I do?

My stamina’s low, like a candle guttering.

I can’t sustain a long fight.

Jing isn’t someone you drop quickly, like a boulder that won’t budge.

No… my chance to win is tiny.

He beats me in every aspect, and Mirror Calm Water feels like a cheat.

“Won’t you continue your attack?

And please don’t zone out mid-fight; it’s dangerous.”

He cut the last sword, then appeared behind me like a ripple turning, with no warning at all.

Is that also Mirror Calm Water?

Thank the heavens my Sword Intent strengthens inside the Sword Domain, like wind rising in a valley.

I reacted at once.

I spun and swung, sending several slashes to drive him back and open space.

But…

Jing flowed like water over stones, and slipped past every cut, natural as rain running downhill.

No strain, no discord—like the world intended it.

Not good… I need more speed.

Ordinary attacks won’t touch him.

I packed Sword Aura tight, like a bowstring drawn to the ear.

I spurred Sword Intent and poured it into the aura, like fire into steel.

Then I lifted the Shattered Light Sword and hurled arc after arc, relentless as waves.

“Sword Qi Dance!”

Dozens of Sword Aura blades flew with space-splitting speed, toward Jing less than half a meter away, like hail sealing every road.

He stopped.

He didn’t dodge.

Like before, he swung the ice-blue tachi and met the aura head-on.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Each strike scattered my Sword Aura with perfect timing, like a drummer hitting every beat.

No difficulty at all.

So Sword Qi Dance doesn’t work?

No, it still helped.

It halted his steps, and it taught me something.

When the area attack gets so dense there’s no gap, he can’t avoid it.

Even if he could, the odds are low.

So he chose to block, not evade.

As the last Sword Aura of Sword Qi Dance left my blade, I didn’t rest.

I began gathering again.

I bent my knees, and set the Shattered Light Sword horizontal at my waist, like a drawn bow.

Half a second later, as Jing moved to break the final aura, I cut from a draw stance.

A curved blade of energy flew, like a new moon slashing.

“Nice attack!”

His expression wavered for a blink, like a ripple under wind.

But he stayed calm and stepped back several paces, dodging the arc of the Draw Sword Technique.

Shame it didn’t land, but forcing him back is good enough.

“Ha… ha…”

After that string of sword arts, my stamina hit a cliff, like a runner at the wall.

Even augmentation-type sword arts that restore stamina barely helped.

Body fatigue doesn’t vanish just because you refill the tank.

If you force recovery while exhausted and keep fighting, the damage and burden cut deeper, like knives on rope.

Ah! What do I do?!

My odds are low, scraping the bottom.

But giving up is off the table, like a flame I refuse to snuff.

“Hm? Is your body failing?

That won’t do.

I’ve only just finished warming up, and plan to go all out for a refreshing fight.

Come, show me all your power as a Sword Wielder, and let me see it.”

His words faded, and Jing slid to my front like a stream, swinging the ice-blue tachi at blinding speed.

Water condensed into slashes, the way my earlier water dragon had coiled.

My gut lurched.

Not good—too close.

My mind hasn’t reached Mirror Calm Water.

I can’t stay calm, read tiny signs, sort them, and predict his direction and range.

“Sword Shield!”

My body ached like hammered iron, and I couldn’t fire a powerful attack technique.

I could only draw the surrounding swords and knit them into a shield to meet his slashes.

Boom!

Result: the shield held, barely.

Hundreds of swords formed a wall that broke apart the instant it stopped the final slash, like glass shattering.

I used that beat to retreat more than ten meters, putting distance between us, like a wave slipping out to sea.

My body was near its limit.

If I kept the close range, Jing might one-shot me.