"I've only scratched the surface." Ling Chen waved his hand, a hint of fighting spirit flashing in his eyes. "Speaking of which, we didn't get to enjoy ourselves enough in the Northern Region last time. The Hidden Dao Mountain is full of artistic conception. How about we have a friendly spar? We'll stop when we've reached a point, focusing only on the artistic conception, not on life or death."
He had always been very curious about Xiao Chen's spear technique, especially the spear intent that a single sword could not break through, which he could never forget.
"Alright." Xiao Chen did not refuse. The intent of the spear within his body quietly awakened, but he did not release it outwards. Instead, he focused it in his eyes. "Please."
Ling Chen took a deep breath, and his sword intent rose, no longer as sharp as it had been in the Northern Region, but transformed into a clear spring, gentle yet resilient, merging into the clouds and mist of Cangdao Mountain.
He didn't draw his sword, but merely raised his hand in a gesture, as if thousands of sword shadows appeared in the clouds, all pointing at Xiao Chen, yet without any killing intent, only pure sword intent—the intent of "soft sword" that he had comprehended at Cangdao Mountain.
Seeing this, Xiao Chen also raised his hand, his spear intent spreading along his arm and connecting with the ground at the foot of the mountain. In an instant, the earth trembled slightly, and a heavy and powerful spear intent surged from the ground. It did not attack Ling Chen, but instead transformed into an invisible barrier, steadily supporting the thousands of sword shadows. It neither rejected nor resisted. This was the meaning of "concealing power" that he had learned from Lin Zhou's daily life of planting vegetables and sunbathing. Spear intent does not necessarily have to be exposed. It can be hidden in the earth in order to accumulate strength and then unleash it.
The sword shadow struck the barrier of spear intent, like a clear spring flowing into the earth, instantly dissipating, yet stirring up ripples at the point of dissipation, enriching the surrounding atmosphere.
Ling Chen's pupils contracted slightly as he watched this scene, then he sighed and withdrew his sword intent: "I lost."
His gentle sword intent was like a stream encountering the deep sea before Xiao Chen's concealed spear intent, utterly unshakable. This was not a difference in strength, but a difference in the realm of intent—Xiao Chen's spear intent had touched the threshold of "returning to simplicity," a level deeper than his "gentle sword."
“Brother Xiao,” Ling Chen looked at Xiao Chen, his eyes full of curiosity, “your spear technique is both sharp and profound, combining strength and flexibility, something that cannot be taught by an ordinary person. Who exactly is your master?”
How profound and unfathomable must one's own path be to be able to teach such a disciple?
Xiao Chen recalled Lin Zhou lounging in a rocking chair, basking in the sun, planting vegetables, and cooking. A smile involuntarily crept onto his lips, his eyes filled with admiration and pride.
"He's just an ordinary, unremarkable person."
"He just loves to grow vegetables and bask in the sun every day. He's too lazy to even practice cultivation. He looks no different from the old farmers down the mountain."
"But he is the most amazing, the most amazing person I have ever met."
Xiao Chen paused, his tone incredibly firm:
"Without exception."
Ling Chen was stunned. Looking at the unreserved trust and respect in Xiao Chen's eyes, he became even more curious about his "ordinary" master.
The clouds and mist of Zangdao Mountain continued to churn, carrying countless layers of meaning, enveloping the two figures at the foot of the mountain.
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