Chapter 25: Swordsmanship and Swordsmanship, Killing and Saving People
The days in the courtyard were like a slowly unfolding plain scroll: peaceful, comfortable, yet monotonous. For Su Qinghan, her recovery meant the return of her strength, and this return of strength brought back a ripple of vigilance to her temporarily appeased heart.
She couldn't wallow.
This stolen peace was ultimately a tower built on sand, ready to collapse at any moment. She had to ensure her sword didn't become dulled during this tender time.
It was a clear, crisp morning. The mist had just dissipated, and the sunlight gilded every blade of grass and tree in the courtyard. Su Qinghan changed into a sharp suit, grasping the longsword that had accompanied her for many years, and walked to the open space in the center of the courtyard.
Chen Ye had just finished chopping a load of firewood and was wiping the sweat from his brow with a cloth. He paused, leaned against an old locust tree, and cast a calm gaze upon her. There was no scrutiny or inquiry in his gaze, only a pure, quiet gaze.
Su Qinghan took a deep breath, shutting out everything outside of her perception. She slowly closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the gentleness that belonged to a lady had faded, replaced by a deep concentration like a cold pond.
The opening posture is like the first bloom of a winter plum blossom, elegant and solitary.
Then, with a flash of sword light, she moved.
That was the Su family's heirloom sword technique "Cold River Snow".
The sword follows her, her body follows her heart. Her form is graceful and agile, like a crane dancing in the snow. The sword's light traces graceful arcs through the air, sometimes like a sky full of pear blossoms, scattering in profusion, shielding her body impervious to water; sometimes like a reflection on the river, cold and clear, yet concealing subtle ripples.
The fallen leaves in the yard were picked up by the sword wind, swirling and flying as she danced, as if they had become part of this beautiful painting.
This sword technique belongs to the Jiangnan Su family, imbued with the heritage and elegance of a scholarly family. Every move and form exudes a restrained beauty, emphasizing the importance of prioritizing form over intention, and stopping when the action is just right.
Shen Ye watched silently. His eyes were piercing, penetrating all appearances to the core. He could see that the foundation of this sword technique was extremely solid, a legacy honed through generations of hard work. It was beautiful, as beautiful as a poem or a painting.
However, just as Su Qinghan was about to finish practicing a set of sword techniques and her aura was reaching its peak, she shook her wrist and the sword's momentum suddenly changed.
The originally graceful and smooth sword moves instantly became sharp, concise and ruthless.
The sword shadows, like falling snow, suddenly contracted, condensing into a single point of piercing cold light, pointing directly at a fallen leaf in front of them. It was no longer a dance, but a pure attack. If the previous "Cold River Snow" depicted a winter snowy scene, then now, this snowy scene was filled with a cheetah, waiting for its opportunity.
The transitions between sword moves became even more swift, discarding all unnecessary preparation and embellishment. An elegant turn and block became a sideways dodge at a smaller angle and greater speed, while the wrist twisted, the sword tip already extending at an extremely tricky angle.
That was no longer "Hanjiang Snow", or rather, it was "Hanjiang Snow" that had been transformed with blood and iron laws.
Chen Ye's eyes narrowed slightly.
He understood. The changes that followed carried a strong air of "officialdom." It wasn't about aesthetics, it was about practicality; it wasn't about morality, it was about defeating the enemy. Every move targeted the body's vital points, aiming to render the opponent defenseless in the shortest possible time.
Su Qinghan combined the elegant swordsmanship of the aristocratic family and the ruthless killing moves of the government in an almost perfect way.
This gave her a contradictory yet captivating aura. Her swordsmanship, like her person, possessed the elegance and grace of a lady from a noble family, yet also possessed the resolve and heroism of someone treading the edge of a blade.
The sword is the bone, and the intention is the soul.
Chen Ye saw her past in this sword technique. He saw her carefree childhood in the Jiangnan water town, and also saw how, after her family was destroyed and her family was gone, she gradually carved hatred and tenacity into her bones in that cold and harsh environment, integrating it into her sword moves.
After completing a set of sword techniques, Su Qinghan sheathed her sword and stood, a thin layer of sweat on her forehead and a slight rise and fall in her chest. She felt her limbs stretch out, her internal energy flowing smoothly through her meridians. The feeling of controlling her own power made her feel extremely grounded.
She turned her head and looked at Shen Ye under the tree, and met his deep eyes.
"How is it?" she asked, with a hint of expectation of recognition in her voice that she herself had not noticed.
Chen Ye didn't answer immediately. He stood up from under the tree and slowly walked over to her. Without looking at her, he leaned over and picked up a withered branch from the ground.
The branch was about three feet long and of uniform thickness. He weighed it in his hand, feeling as if it were a sharp sword.
"Again." He tapped the ground lightly with the tip of the branch, his voice flat and calm. "Use your fastest sword to strike me."
Su Qinghan raised his eyebrows slightly.
She knew Shen Ye was powerful, unfathomable. But using a branch to block her sword was too arrogant. Her competitive spirit was aroused, and without saying anything, she nodded and said, "Be careful."
Before she finished her words, she flicked her wrist, and the long sword transformed into a white rainbow, piercing Chen Ye's chest. In this sword strike, she used the secret power-generating technique of the Six Gates, fast, accurate, and ruthless, without any hesitation.
However, Chen Ye just casually slid half a step to the side, and the branch in his hand was like an antelope hanging on the horns, lightly and inconspicuously touching the top of her sword.
“Ding~”
With a slight sound, Su Qinghan felt a subtle force coming, and her sword, which was determined to win, was easily diverted from its direction.
She was startled and, without thinking, she immediately changed her tactics. The sword light swirled like mercury, slashing towards Chen Ye's neck from a more tricky angle.
Chen Ye advanced, his figure approaching like a ghost. Su Qinghan could even smell his faint masculine scent, a mixture of pine wood and sweat. The branch in his hand arrived first, tapping her wrist with incredible speed.
“Pah.”
The force was not strong, but it brought with it a strange sense of vibration, which made her wrist numb and her sword moves froze for half a breath.
"When your sword changes its stance, its aura will be interrupted for a moment." Chen Ye's voice seemed to ring right beside her ear, low and clear. "When masters fight, this moment is enough for you to die ten times."
Su Qinghan's cheeks flushed slightly, whether from shame or annoyance. With a delicate cry, she unleashed her "Cold River Snow" sword technique to its fullest potential. For a moment, the entire courtyard was ablaze with sword energy, flashing cold light and sending leaves scattering.
But no matter how exquisite and fierce her sword moves were, Chen Ye always used that ordinary branch to leisurely walk through her violent attacks.
His movements were flawless. Every block and every instruction was perfect, landing precisely on the flaws in her sword moves or the nodes where her force shifted.
He was like a skilled chess player who could predict all her moves.
"The angle of this strike was too sharp, revealing the murderous intent, giving the enemy too much time to react."
"This move is more defensive than offensive. It seems to protect the body, but in fact it gives up the initiative."
"Your breathing is disordered. You exhale when you draw your sword, and inhale when you retract it. Your breathing is half a beat slower than your sword moves."
As Chen Ye disassembled her sword moves, he pointed out her problems in the simplest terms. He wasn't showing off his martial arts skills, but was using the most direct way to teach her what "the way of assassination" was.
Su Qinghan became more and more frightened as the fight went on.
He pointed out subtle habits she herself might not even be aware of. They were flaws she had compensated for through countless life-or-death battles, relying on instinct and talent. But in Shen Ye's eyes, these flaws were magnified infinitely, becoming fatal flaws.
Finally, in a confrontation, Su Qinghan stabbed the air with a sword. Just as the old strength was gone and the new strength was not yet generated, the branch in Chen Ye's hand had quietly stopped in front of her throat.
The cold murderous intent made all the hairs on her body stand on end.
She knew that if it had been a sword, she would have been dead.
The courtyard returned to peace, with only the fallen leaves disturbed by the sword wind still slowly falling in the air.
Su Qinghan stood there in a daze, sword in hand, sweat dripping down her cheeks. For the first time, she felt so clearly the chasm between herself and this man, a chasm as vast as a chasm.
That is not the difference in moves or internal strength, but a difference in the level of understanding of "battle" itself.
Her swordsmanship is for "defending the enemy" and "revenge", and is also mixed with family honor and personal emotions.
And his swordsmanship... no, it couldn't even be called "method." It was a pure "skill," stripped of all impurities. Every movement, every glance, every breath, had a single purpose: to kill the enemy before they could kill him.
Every note is on the beat of death.
Chen Ye threw away the branch casually. It completed its mission and turned back into an ordinary dead branch.
He looked at Su Qinghan's dazed expression, and a complex mix of emotions flickered in his calm eyes. There was admiration, pity, and a hint of... something he couldn't quite put his finger on, a kind of sadness for his fellow humans.
"Your sword is trained to kill."
He finally spoke, his voice breaking the silence in the courtyard. It wasn't a question, but a statement. He affirmed the resoluteness and ruthlessness in her swordsmanship, and revealed her true purpose hidden beneath her beautiful moves.
Su Qinghan recovered from her shock. She raised her head and met his gaze. Her beautiful face was devoid of its usual gentleness and the frustration she had just felt. Only a cold and resolute expression, as cold as snow, remained.
"Your sword, isn't it?"
She asked back calmly.
This was an extremely sharp question, like an invisible sword, piercing Shen Ye's heart.
The night was silent.
Yes, his sword, isn't it?
His sword was named "Momentary Beauty." Such a beautiful name, but it was a flower of evil, watered with countless blood. From the moment it was born, its sole purpose was to kill. Purer, colder, and more resolute than her own sword.
His whole life was spent holding this sword, walking from one darkness to another.
But……
The scene in the valley that night flashed through his mind uncontrollably.
The rain of arrows, the desperate siege, and the resolute figure about to fall in a pool of blood.
He remembered how he rushed into the fray, how he wielded the "Momenta." The sword light that should have reaped lives, in that moment, became a protective barrier. For the first time, his sword wasn't meant to pierce someone's throat, but to deflect the blade that slashed at her. For the first time, it wasn't meant to kill her instantly, but to create a safe space before her where she could breathe.
"A Moment of Beauty", what blooms in an instant is not the blood of death, but... the glory of protection.
His sword was honed for killing. This was the creed ingrained in him over the past twenty years, the cornerstone of his existence.
But not long ago, he broke this creed with his own hands.
The sword that existed only for killing people, in order to save a woman named Su Qinghan, shone with a warm light that it had never had before.
It turns out that the most powerful sword for killing can also be used to save people.
It turns out that he, an assassin who only knows how to take other people's lives, can also... protect something.
This realization was like a thunderclap, creating a huge wave on the dead lake of his heart that had been frozen by the "Lightless Heart Sutra" for many years.
He looked at the woman with clear, determined eyes before him, and all he could say was stuck in his throat. He couldn't answer her question. He realized that his black-and-white world had become blurred, filled with contradictions and...hope, because of her appearance.
His silence became the loudest answer.
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