Chapter Ninety-Three: Enchanting Spring
Xiao Nan had always believed that swordsmanship was essentially the same as other forms of martial arts—fist techniques, saber arts, spear skills, all were simply different ways to wield a weapon in combat.
Thus, when practicing Silk Thread Entwine, he focused on defense, wrapping, guiding, and counterattacking, taking the path of using an opponent’s strength against them. The Drizzle Slant technique, on the other hand, called for the sudden, silent touch of spring rain at night—an attack that arrived without warning or sound.
At this point, swordsmanship became delicate and refined, unpredictable in its transformations. Its offensive power was not necessarily overwhelming, but it was certainly troublesome and concealed. Swordsmanship, after all, was a craft for killing, never straying far from its core purpose.
Yet the Spring Sword Technique before him opened his eyes. It showed him that swordsmanship was not merely for killing. It could serve other purposes...
Within the bronze mirror space, he tried a few moves of Withered Blossom. With each strike, three flowers accompanied him, blossoms opening and fading, powered by the explosive force of his forearm and wrist. One sword, three flowers—each blossom five petals, petals fluttering and scattered. The sword’s tip shifted through fifteen angles in the space of an inch; petals fell and opened anew...
The cycle continued—hundreds, thousands, countless swords. Under such an assault, the opponent would be unable to defend, unable even to block what they saw. Instructor Yang taught in this manner, and naturally Xiao Nan followed. After a few strikes, he noticed his swordplay gradually shifting. The transitions between moves subtly adjusted themselves, becoming increasingly smooth. Each strike grew softer, more fluid. The sword’s tip trembled gently, swaying... the sword flowers shy and coy, frail against the branch.
“It’s because of Silk Thread Entwine and Drizzle Slant,” he realized. A flash of insight crossed his mind, and his swordsmanship transformed. He practiced Silk Thread Entwine again, followed by Drizzle Slant, and then Withered Blossom, just learned moments ago...
Three swords became one, their rhythms harmonizing...
Silk Thread Entwine’s stance grew elusive, no longer an entangling force but a wind—a gentle, omnipresent breeze. Drizzle Slant ceased to be a blade of assassination, becoming a nourishing force, openly soaking into body and soul. With the arrival of Withered Blossom, the three spring techniques united, transforming into a harmonious and perfect springtime radiance.
“A gentle breeze encircles, light rain drifts, a thousand blossoms bloom, spring’s charm flourishes.”
Vitality—he suddenly sensed a strange, inexplicable surge of life. Even within the bronze mirror space, his blood seemed to flow faster, the energy around him circulating unnaturally. An inexplicable exhilaration lifted his spirits. Mist turned to threads of light, weaving together around him.
Of course, here it was only a simulation, a cost of energy, not a reality.
...
He withdrew his consciousness from the space and glanced around at the trainees, clustered in groups, discussing how to wield their swords, how to strike forth blossoms. Zhang Xiaorou occasionally glanced at him, puzzled by his apparent daydreaming.
Xiao Nan smiled at her, then moved to a corner and assumed a stance.
He began to practice Withered Blossom according to his newfound understanding, methodically and earnestly.
From unfamiliarity to familiarity, from familiarity to fluency.
In just ten breaths, the newly learned sword technique had etched itself into his muscles and bones. His body retained its memory. The little girl’s sword affinity was truly unmatched. No matter what sword technique, once in her hands, it seemed as if she’d practiced it for years...
With a touch, she could wield it; with practice, she could master it.
So much labor was saved.
Xiao Nan sighed inwardly, realizing that he was not the only one with a hidden advantage. Many in this world carried their own innate gifts, possessing strengths beyond ordinary imagination. Like Xiao Bei, like the Bearfolk, and like the elder who created the Four Seasons Sword.
He was deeply impressed by that innovator.
Long ago, Xiao Nan knew that practicing techniques for their own sake was of lesser value. To grasp their true essence and transcend form was the foundation.
Now, he infused the faint truths gleaned from Silk Thread Entwine and Drizzle Slant into his new swordplay, and felt a surge of joy.
Sword flowers bloomed in succession, neither fast nor slow. Where blossoms fell and opened, the energy around him flowed.
His blood grew stronger, skin and pores seemed to breathe of their own accord.
He followed an ancient, mysterious rhythm, resonating with the primal energy.
His organs felt soothed, flesh and bones refreshed...
His once-solid, resilient body seemed to open countless tiny channels, transparent and clear from top to bottom, front to back.
Countless flashes of inspiration emerged in his mind.
In this state, his spirit became crystal clear, and he periodically gained new insights into the sword.
Immersed in the spring breeze, his swordplay grew ever more concise, ever more attuned to nature.
Primal energy entered his body, strengthening his physique and nourishing his spirit.
This was the vitality of spring...
The Spring Sword Chapter, astonishingly, was fundamentally an auxiliary cultivation technique, not a killing art.
Even though Xiao Nan was prepared for surprises, this revelation left him deeply exhilarated.
Previously, he only knew to use his willpower to guide his blood and strengthen his body, or to consume vast amounts of medicine to reinforce his foundations.
But the Four Seasons Sword took an entirely different approach, using the sword to embody intention and draw nourishment directly from the world.
Such a conception was a hundred times more profound.
But then, the question arose... why had such a brilliant sword technique fallen into obscurity?
To many, the Spring Sword Chapter of the Four Seasons Sword was merely a flowery, beautiful technique with little practical value.
In fact, its real-world reputation was quite poor.
The reasons were obvious—unworthy disciples, poor management, and so forth.
Yet he cared little for such matters; he was always a pragmatist.
Now, he focused solely on practicing the true essence of the three swords.
On a level unseen by others, primal energy entered his body, vitality blossomed.
Mind and body became one, spring’s radiance filled him.
His blood grew robust, spirit lively.
...
The sword flowers whispered as they bloomed, neither fast nor slow.
Blossoms appeared—sometimes one, sometimes two—swaying and flourishing in wind and rain.
Within the tranquil poetry, there was an indescribable splendor.
...
Unknowingly, many young women had gathered around him.
They clutched their hearts, exclaimed in wonder, pointed and murmured, neglecting their own practice.
Instructor Yang rubbed his nose, feeling awkward.
He noticed that even those who had approached him for guidance had turned away, watching someone else in the corner perform swordplay.
Was it really so mesmerizing?
He couldn’t see anything special.
Jiang Lin glanced over, feeling a little resentful. As an elite trainee of the sword hall, surely he was the one who deserved admiration.
The sparring session hadn’t even begun, and the trainees’ attention had scattered. No wonder the Four Seasons Sword Hall was declining year by year—the trainees’ quality was far too poor.
He had already forgotten how charming the young women seemed earlier.
...
On the second floor’s corridor, a tall woman in her early twenties, dressed in a suit skirt, passed by, her brows slightly furrowed as she pondered some difficult question.
The sounds of sword practice and chatter from the hall below seemed not to reach her ears.
An elderly man with graying hair followed behind, his face full of helplessness.
The woman’s brows were sharp as swords, giving her a striking fierceness that extended to her temples, yet her eyes held a trace of melancholy...
Her lips pressed lightly together, betraying stubbornness.
“This is my sword hall. Its path will not change.”
“Why be so stubborn? If things continue this way, we won’t even be able to stay in Yuanjiang.
When your family urges you to return and marry, what ideals will you have left?”
“I don’t care. My father’s lifelong dedication must not be handed over to Jiang Yu, that impulsive, opportunistic swordsman.
If we don’t find a way, the Four Seasons Sword’s reputation will be replaced by Frost and Snow Sword...
If even the foundation is lost, what use is fleeting prosperity?”
“Ah, you are too stubborn. Why must siblings come to this?” the old man sighed.
“Hm? Uncle Wu, look at that swordplay.”
The woman, lost in thought, glanced downstairs. Suddenly her gaze fixed, her expression astonished.
In the corner of the hall, surrounded by a group of female trainees, stood a young man.
He was practicing joyfully, seemingly immersed in the sword’s rhythm.
The sword technique was still the Spring Chapter of the Four Seasons Sword, yet carried an indescribable quality.
That strange familiarity—she had seen it often, ten years ago.