Time slipped by like drifting leaves; half a year went by in a breath.
Under Heartvoice’s patient, spring-rain guidance, Lixue and I patched the cracks in our basics.
Basic sword drills were dry like plain rice, but with Lixue beside me and Heartvoice pointing like a lantern in mist, I found warmth and rhythm.
People say cultivation is a lone road, yet a companion is a steady wind at your back.
Basic swordsmanship is groundwork; with time and sweat, mastery settles like bricks in mortar.
Six months in, both Lixue and I knew the basics by heart, hands moving like flowing water.
We’re far from Heartvoice’s level; that height grows by rings, year after year.
We didn’t spend every day grinding steel; balance mattered like day and night trading places.
Heartvoice gave us a break every half month, and Lingxiao’s schedule matched, so they visited on rest days.
Serenemoon and Hill would drop by too, or we’d drift to Lingxiao’s side, roaming the Dragon Realm like wind through valleys.
Now and then we returned home, training a spell in the Central Continent’s hush.
The Central Continent’s training ground is rich soil compared to the Dragon Realm’s rocky slopes.
Nowhere on this world beats home’s air; by reason, training there should bloom faster.
When I said that aloud, Heartvoice answered like a bell in fog.
“The Central Continent is good, but it’s a greenhouse.
Train too long in comfort, and the wilds chill you; I see it in your fighting.”
Lixue felt it too.
She grew within the Palace of Ice Crystal, a hall like a glacier, never fearing consumption.
Naturally, she picked sword arts that burn bright—high cost, high damage, wide reach.
Out in the world, without elixirs, long fights dried her out, like that first day in Crimson Dragon Valley against Heartvoice.
I’m much the same.
As my strength rose, low-cost, low-damage skills felt like thin reeds.
I chased heavy strikes like ringing bronze bells, spending energy in wide arcs.
Today, after drills and a test, Heartvoice nodded, calm as moonlight on a blade.
“You’ve about mastered the basics.
The day after tomorrow, you’ll step to the next stage.”
“Really?! That’s great,” I blurted, heart fluttering like sparrows.
“Finally, something new,” Lixue said, a bud splitting its green sheath.
Our half-year on basics had us itching for new paths.
“Don’t cheer too soon,” Heartvoice cooled us like rain on hot stone.
“Emperor, Lixue, you burst like meteors, but endurance flickers.
Given your backgrounds, it’s common—you’ve never had to count your fuel.”
She thought a breath, then pointed straight as an arrow.
“You carry plenty of Supreme Divine Elixirs.
Use them nonstop, and consumption isn’t a worry.
But remember—leaning on crutches won’t take you to the summit.
Only your own strength stands firm.
On your first day in Crimson Dragon Valley, without potions you couldn’t last.
Even with an Origin Artifact in hand, you disappointed.
Do you know why?”
“Is it… the way we use sword arts?” I asked, heat sinking like embers in snow.
Lixue’s excitement faded too, like a tide pulling back.
“Right.
You lack a plan on skill use, and miss the right blade for the right moment.
That’s your next training,” Heartvoice said, eyes steady like a calm lake.
“Understood! We’ll fix it in the days ahead,” I answered, pulse steadying like a drum.
“Mm, Xinyin, please guide us more,” Lixue added, her tone soft as silk.
In short, our next direction and target were set, stones laid on the path.
Heartvoice was right; if we keep leaning on elixirs and ignore smart pairing of sword arts, regret will nip us like cold wind.
Elsewhere, in the Hall of Holy Spirit, another stream ran.
Celia Maya often traded notes with Heartvoice on training, two rivers reflecting the same moon.
By chance or fate, both sides wrestled the same flaw—shaky foundations—even across different disciplines.
This day, Lingxiao and Lingsaki finished their first-stage training.
On the surface, their power showed no great leap, like a candle steady.
In truth, their control of magic was sharper than six months ago, like a honed blade.
“Phew—so tired. Finally done with this stage,” one sighed, breath misting like tea steam.
“Can’t wait for the next,” the other smiled, eyes bright as stars.
They released the last set of combined magic per Celia Maya’s request, then sank into seats like leaves settling.
Celia Maya hadn’t asked for grand spells, more mid-tier weaves like sturdy cloth.
The hard part was binding them perfectly, turning threads into one seamless pattern.
They spent more spirit than mana, minds working like abacuses.
Combo magic needs predictions and timing, especially in battle—watch the foe and mesh spells, a headache like juggling in rain.
With practice, Lingxiao and Lingsaki found their casting more flexible, joints loosening like bamboo in wind.
That lit their drive, and they dove back into training like fish into clear water.
“You’ve worked hard.
Start next phase the day after tomorrow.
Rest well, and go play with Emperor and the others,” Celia Maya said, handing them two cups of juice that gleamed like amber.
“Huh? Did dear brother finish his training too?” Lingxiao asked, eagerness jumping like a sparrow.
“Is that really okay?” Lingsaki added, worry hovering like a thin cloud.
They wanted to sprint to him, but feared disturbing him, feet rooted like saplings.
“Relax.
Emperor’s progress matches yours; they finished their foundation today.
I’ve already told Heartvoice.
You can head over anytime,” Celia Maya added, words flying like a messenger dove.
“Really? We’re going now!”
“Great—I can’t wait to see big brother,” they chimed.
Their figures vanished in a blink, leaving only two empty cups on the table like shells after the tide.
“So impatient,” Celia Maya chuckled, shaking her head like a willow.
She called a maid to tidy up, then went straight to Crimson Dragon Valley, steps light as petals.
By the way, half a year was enough for Serenemoon and Hill to tour the Dragon Realm, wandering like cranes over lakes.
Their bond is now sister-close.
They’re spending quiet days together at the Mizumi Clan, sunlight pooling on their threshold.
