Chen Mo immediately sheathed his sword and waited for guidance.
“Your sword is too focused on ‘form’ and has lost its ‘meaning’.” Lin Zhou pointed to the trajectory of his sword move just now. “Like this arc, you wanted it to be round, but you used too much effort to control it, which made it seem deliberate.”
True perfection is natural and spontaneous, like the moon in the sky; it never deliberately tries to become full, yet it possesses its own beauty in its waxing and waning.
“Naturally, as I please…” Chen Mo murmured to himself, a flash of understanding appearing in his eyes.
He was obsessed with perfecting his sword techniques, but he overlooked the essence of swordsmanship—the sword is an extension of the arm and a manifestation of the mind. Being too deliberate leads to a lower level of skill.
"Thank you for your guidance, senior!" Chen Mo suddenly understood and bowed deeply to Lin Zhou. He then sat down cross-legged and began to close his eyes to comprehend the meaning.
Lin Zhou watched him enter a state of enlightenment, nodded in satisfaction, and turned to leave.
He never liked trouble, and now that he had repaid the favor and given the guidance, he naturally wanted to hurry back to his sect to bask in the sun.
With a flicker, Lin Zhou disappeared below the cliff, as if he had never been there.
After an unknown amount of time, Chen Mo slowly opened his eyes, his eyes flashing with a sharp light, and his sword intent flowing around him was more refined and natural than before, clearly indicating that he had broken through the bottleneck.
He stood up and looked in the direction where Lin Zhou had disappeared, his face filled with admiration and a hint of regret.
"Xiao Chen's master..." Chen Mo murmured, "This kind of person is probably far more terrifying than those ancient monsters in the Central Region who have lived for thousands of years..."
He finally realized that his previous understanding of Xiao Chen was far too shallow. With such a master, Xiao Chen's future would likely be even more dazzling than anyone imagined.
Below the cliff, spiritual mist swirled, and sword intent flowed slowly through the air, carrying a hint of enlightenment.
The mysterious figure in green robes had already returned to his Qingyun Sect, continuing his leisurely life of sunbathing and growing vegetables, as if the person who had just instructed a Mahayana expert at Cangdao Mountain was someone else entirely.
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