Chapter 47 What do you, a chosen one of heaven, know...?
A gentle breeze rustled through the bamboo grove, and the distant sound of a waterfall splashing water could be faintly heard.
Sheng Zhiyi looked at Ji Fuguang with a serious expression, her eyes filled with an urgent desire to find a way out of the predicament.
"What do you think..." Ji Fuguang suddenly changed the subject, his folding fan lightly tapping a key point on Sheng Zhiyi's spiritual energy flow through the meridians in her arm, subtly guiding her, "In a competition, what is the most important thing to do to defeat your opponent?"
Startled by the question, Sheng Zhiyi paused for a moment before replying:
"Is it... the number of effective attacks?"
She thought of Liu Suxin's terrifying defensive spiritual power.
Ji Fuguang curled his lips into a smile and asked again:
"How can you launch an effective attack? Especially when your opponent's defenses seem impenetrable, and you... are powerless to stop them?"
Sheng Zhiyi understood somewhat what he wanted to say, but she was still a little confused:
"You mean... the weakness of Liu Suxin's protective spiritual power?"
If she knew her weakness, wouldn't she have been able to defeat Liu Suxin long ago? Why would she be worrying about this?
"Weakness?" Ji Fuguang smiled noncommittally, closed his folding fan, and gently stroked the cool, smooth sandalwood ribs with his fingertips, his voice distant and resonant:
"Sword techniques and spiritual power are like a person's two feet, neither is superior to the other. It's just that accumulating spiritual power requires calming the mind and concentrating the breath, which is often more difficult for lower-level disciples. Over time, many people have come to believe that spiritual power is more important than sword techniques, even regarding it as fundamental, while neglecting the skills of sword techniques."
He paused, his gaze falling on the "Jinghongyu" sword that Sheng Zhiyi was gripping tightly, the blade reflecting the shards of sunlight filtering through the bamboo leaves.
“But I’m telling you now, that’s not the case.” Ji Fuguang’s tone was firm and unquestionable. “Although Liu Suxin’s spiritual power is strong, when dealing with your swift and unpredictable attacks, in order to provide comprehensive protection, her protective spiritual power can only be evenly distributed around her body. It’s like a large net that seems to be airtight, but in reality, the strength of each part is relatively weak because it is dispersed.”
Sheng Zhiyi's heart skipped a beat, as if she had grasped something crucial.
“Your strengths lie in your exquisite swordsmanship and agile movements,” Ji Fuguang said softly, looking at the starlight burning in her eyes. He lightly touched Sheng Zhiyi’s neck with the rib of his fan. “Don’t be intimidated by her spiritual power. Remember, even the thickest shield is afraid of the sharpest spear, provided that… your spear is concentrated enough, fast enough, and more importantly… unexpected enough.”
To break through the surface by focusing on a single point, to strike unexpectedly...
Sheng Zhiyi frowned, countless sword moves flashing through her mind.
She can concentrate her spiritual energy into a single point for a powerful burst, but how can she guarantee that this attack will hit? How can she break through the opponent's defense, which might also be focused on a single point in an instant?
Ji Fuguang didn't say anything more, but stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on the roaring waterfall outside the bamboo forest.
A massive torrent of water crashes into the pool from a great height, creating countless waves, one after another pushing the previous wave, layer upon layer, without end.
Sheng Zhiyi also subconsciously looked towards the waterfall.
water……
wave……
One layer...and another...
An extremely bold, even insane, idea seized her thoughts like lightning.
Why... can there only be one outbreak?
Like the waves of a waterfall, one wave subsides only for another to rise!
If... if she could forcefully draw upon the remaining spiritual energy in her meridians the instant the opponent gathers to defend against the first sword intent, and use the shockwaves caused by the first sword intent to generate a second, more concealed and cunning sword intent?
Double waves!
This requires her to have exquisite control over her own spiritual power, to wield the longsword in her hand with ease, and to maintain absolute calm and calculation under extreme pressure!
This was by no means a move taught to her by Ji Fuguang, nor was it a method recorded in any ancient text.
This is just an incredibly crazy idea.
Is it really worth spending all your time and energy on this almost impossible hope in the remaining five days?
But... hope, like a wildfire, raged and burned in her heart, refusing to be extinguished, making it difficult for her to remain calm.
A startling light flashed in Sheng Zhiyi's eyes, her almond-shaped pupils blazing with sparks:
"Senior brother, I'm willing to give it a try!"
She stopped looking at Ji Fuguang, turned around abruptly, and faced a huge blue stone at the edge of the bamboo forest.
With her eyes closed, Sheng Zhiyi repeatedly rehearsed the moves she imagined in her mind. The first sword intent was unleashed, and her spiritual power circulated wildly within her body. Using the aftershocks of the shockwave, she brewed the second sword intent... The two sharp edges arrived first, like overlapping waves.
Although the sword spirit was asleep, "Jinghongyu" seemed to sense her surging fighting spirit and instinctively emitted a low hum in her hand.
Ji Fuguang's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of interest flashing in them.
How far can she go...?
For the next five days, Sheng Zhiyi acted as if she had gone mad.
She tried countless times to compress the spiritual energy within her body and concentrate it at the tip of the sword.
She swung her sword at the bluestone countless times, feeling the force of the first impact and the ripples of the shockwave.
She desperately mobilized her divine sense, trying to forcibly grasp the faint afterglow just as her first sword intent was about to be exhausted. At the same time, she used her own will as a guide to stimulate the spiritual power in her meridians and unleash it once again.
However, reality is cold and ruthless.
fail.
Failed again.
Failure after failure...
Excessive practice caused her arms to feel sore and numb, and her meridians to feel swollen and painful.
Forcibly drawing spiritual energy is even more difficult; the slightest carelessness can lead to the collapse of sword techniques or even injury to oneself.
Deep in the bamboo forest, the sword light flashed again and again, her clothes were soaked with sweat, and the force of the recoil tore her hands apart and then healed them.
The only thing that could support her was the two sword intents that she imagined, which arrived first despite being delayed.
On the eve of the competition, Ji Fuguang crossed the mountain stream.
The afterglow of the setting sun dyed the bamboo forest a golden red, and the rosy clouds were reflected in the waterfall, creating a shimmering, golden spectacle.
Amidst the sounds of wind and water, the metallic whistling of the sword energy cutting through the air was particularly piercing.
A condensed, almost tangible, azure light shot out, piercing the blue stone with a dull thud.
Sheng Zhiyi looked over expectantly. The smoke and dust settled, and the defensive spiritual energy covering the surface of the bluestone still shone brightly. The entire bluestone was as intact as ever.
She... failed again!
Exhausted, Sheng Zhiyi knelt on one knee, panting heavily. Sweat dripped into her eyes, bringing an unbearable stinging sensation.
She lowered her head deeply, her vision blurred as she stared at the overlapping bamboo leaves, as if they were the layers upon layers of sword intent that she had ultimately failed to unleash.
For five whole days, from dawn till dusk, she exhausted every ounce of her strength and energy.
My meridians throbbed with pain, my arms felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead, and the space between my thumb and forefinger was already numb.
The seemingly within-reach "double waves" shattered at the last moment, like a reflection in the water.
Immense disappointment and exhaustion overwhelmed her like a cold tide.
The ankle boots rustled softly as they stepped over the dry bamboo leaves, stopping beside her.
The setting sun cast a golden glow, elongating Ji Fuguang's shadow and enveloping the kneeling girl.
Sheng Zhiyi whispered:
"Senior brother..."
Her voice was dry and hoarse, filled with undisguised frustration and a barely perceptible sob, as if she had lost even the strength to lift her head.
Ji Fuguang lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on Sheng Zhiyi's sweat-drenched, thin back.
His body rose and fell slightly from his heavy breathing, as fragile as a fully drawn bowstring on the verge of breaking, thin and delicate, as if a gentle push would send him crashing to the ground and shattering him.
"Junior Sister..."
He spoke slowly, his gaze sweeping across the ground in front of Sheng Zhiyi.
On the clearing ground where the fallen leaves had been swept away by the sword wind, there were two patches of soil, slightly black in color.
A complex and obscure emotion slipped silently across Ji Fuguang's narrow eyes, like a shadow passing over a deep pool.
...That was the ground wet with Sheng Zhiyi's tears.
Ji Fuguang slowly squatted down.
Sheng Zhiyi finally raised her head. Her face was pale, her lips were chapped from lack of water, and her almond-shaped eyes, which always burned with passion, were now covered with a layer of mist, filled with exhaustion, resentment and confusion.
Sweat-dampened hair clung to his cheeks, adding to his disheveled and pitiful appearance.
Ji Fuguang reached out, but instead of helping her up, he used his fingertips to gently brush across the bloody, torn area between her thumb and forefinger caused by gripping the sword hilt so tightly.
"Hiss..." The touch on the wound caused a slight stinging pain, and Sheng Zhiyi subconsciously wanted to pull her hand away.
Ji Fuguang tightened his grip on her hand with a firm and undeniable force.
His fingertips carried a strange coolness that seeped through the burning skin, strangely relieving the searing pain, but also bringing a shiver of being firmly controlled.
Ji Fuguang stared at the bloodstains on her skin, and his fingers tightened their grip.
Sheng Zhiyi also noticed the dirt all over her body. Remembering Ji Fuguang's obsessive-compulsive disorder about cleanliness, she made a hand gesture to clean herself.
But Ji Fuguang interrupted his actions.
His eyes darkened for a moment, a fleeting, indescribable glint flashing across them.
"At this moment..." Ji Fuguang chuckled softly, his voice low and pleasant, revealing neither joy nor anger, but his gaze was firmly fixed on her eyes, "Can Junior Sister still consider other people's feelings? Shouldn't she have been... heartbroken long ago?"
These words were like needles chilled to ice, instantly piercing through the dignity that Sheng Zhiyi had barely managed to maintain with her last bit of strength.
All the pent-up grievances, resentment, self-doubt, exhaustion, and bottomless despair were ignited and exploded by this seemingly casual remark.
"What do you know!" Sheng Zhiyi suddenly flung Ji Fuguang's hand away with such force that her arm slammed into the bamboo beside her, causing bamboo leaves to flutter and fall.
She raised her head, her almond-shaped eyes, blurred by tears, burning with fierce anger as she glared at Ji Fuguang:
"You, a prodigy born with the best spiritual roots, have had a smooth cultivation path and your realm has been constantly rising! Do you understand what despair is? Do you understand what it is to try your best but not see even a glimmer of hope? Do you understand the feeling of being powerless, like being stuck in a quagmire, no matter how hard you struggle?"
Her chest heaved violently, and her voice cracked.
"Didn't I try? Five days, a full five days, I didn't stop for a moment! When I couldn't lift my arm, I gritted my teeth and used my willpower to lift it! When my spiritual energy was depleted and my meridians were swollen and painful, I forced myself to circulate it again and again! My tiger's mouth split open and healed, healed and split open again! The sweat I shed, the blood I bled... couldn't you see it?"
She stubbornly raised her head and glared at Ji Fuguang, but as she spoke, a strong sense of grievance welled up in her heart.
Others can question her efforts, so why does Ji Fuguang have to say that too?
Is he suspecting her of slacking off?
Is he questioning her efforts?
Is that the kind of person he thinks of her?
The flames of anger that had sustained her suddenly went out, leaving only boundless exhaustion and cold ashes.
Sheng Zhiyi reached out to support Cuizhu, her fingertips trembling violently from exhaustion and emotional agitation.
The rough texture of the bamboo pole stung her palms, which were covered with tiny wounds, but she felt little pain, only a strong urge to escape from there immediately.
She left the bluestone that had witnessed her countless failures, left the bamboo forest that had exhausted her efforts but yielded nothing, and also left... Ji Fuguang, who had easily shattered all her facade of strength with just one sentence.
She gritted her teeth and tried to stand up with the support of the bamboo, but her body was too weak. Her knees buckled and she fell uncontrollably to the ground again.
However, the expected pain from hitting the hard ground did not come.
Her body was suddenly pulled into an embrace that smelled of pear blossoms by an irresistible force.
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