Chen Zui opened his eyes and saw Ye Zhibai practicing her swordplay in the snow outside the ruined temple.
The sword light was like frost.
In the morning light, it carved sharp arcs through the air, stirring up the snow on the ground.
Her movements were light, and every thrust carried a sense of decisive ruthlessness, making her seem like a completely different person from the girl who had been left speechless by him the night before.
Chen Zui leaned against the doorframe and watched for a while, shaking his head.
“Fine sword, fine beauty, but what a pity the technique is dead.”
Ye Zhibai sheathed her sword upon hearing this and gave him a cold sideways glance.
“What did you say?”
“I said your technique is dead.”
Chen Zui repeated himself without the slightest bit of politeness.
“Every move and stance follows the manual to the letter, without the slightest deviation. It’s certainly beautiful, but on the battlefield, will the enemy strike according to your manual?”
Ye Zhibai’s expression darkened.
“You’re a spearman. What right do you have to criticize my swordplay?”
Chen Zui smiled and didn’t argue. He walked into the snow and snapped off a withered branch.
“Come. You use your sword, and I’ll use this branch. If you can even touch the corner of my clothes, I’ll take back what I just said.”
Ye Zhibai’s eyes narrowed.
A martial artist could least tolerate this kind of provocation, especially from a young man of similar age who was only holding a withered branch.
“You said it yourself.”
Before the words had even faded, the longsword in her hand transformed into a white rainbow, lunging straight for Chen Zui’s chest!
This strike was incredibly fast—it was the sharpest move in the Frost-Sigh Sect’s Searching for Plum Blossoms in the Snow swordplay. Ordinary people in the martial world wouldn't even be able to see the path of the sword.
But Chen Zui saw it clearly.
He even had the mind to let out a yawn.
Just as the tip of the sword was less than three inches from his chest, his body suddenly sank. He slid under Ye Zhibai’s sword like melting snow.
The withered branch in his hand tapped out lightly, striking Ye Zhibai’s sword-wielding wrist with unerring precision.
“First flaw,” Chen Zui said. “When you thrust, your wrist turns outward by three degrees. It looks good, but you’re actually exposing your pulse gate to your opponent.”
Ye Zhibai’s expression changed slightly. She withdrew her sword, spun around, and delivered a backhand horizontal sweep.
This strike was even faster than the previous one, the blade cutting through the air with a sharp whistle.
Instead of retreating, Chen Zui advanced. With a shift of his body, he slipped inside her sword’s reach, and the withered branch tapped out again!
This time, it pressed against her Jianjing point.
“Second flaw,” Chen Zui said calmly. “When you use a horizontal sweep, your center of gravity is entirely on your left foot while your right foot is unsteady. Once someone gets close, you don’t even have a path for retreat.”
Ye Zhibai gritted her teeth. Her sword momentum suddenly shifted. She no longer pursued sharp strikes but instead made her longsword as dense as a net, layers of sword light enveloping Chen Zui.
This was the Dawn Horn in the Frosty Sky form, the most difficult move to master in the Frost-Sigh Sect. It used defense as offense and was specifically designed to counter close-quarters combat.
Unfortunately, she was facing Chen Zui.
Activating the Dragon Roam movement technique once more, Chen Zui’s figure became elusive, weaving through the airtight net of sword light with ease.
His steps seemed casual, but in reality, every step landed precisely in the gaps of Ye Zhibai’s transitions.
At the final moment, the withered branch rested gently against Ye Zhibai’s neck.
“Third flaw.”
Chen Zui’s voice rang in her ear.
“You rely too much on the swordplay itself and never think about why a move is used that way. Your sword has the form but no soul, which is why I say your technique is dead.”
Ye Zhibai froze in place, her face turning various shades of green and white.
She had practiced the sword since she was five and entered the Candlelight Realm at sixteen.
She was hailed by her entire sect as a sword dao genius rarely seen in a century.
But today, she had been suppressed within three moves by a peer using a withered branch.
Even worse, this person was a spearman.
A spearman had defeated her sword with a mere twig.
“You... how exactly did you do it?”
“It’s no big deal.”
Chen Zui tossed away the branch and brushed the debris off his hands.
“I’ve just seen a little bit more swordplay than you have.”
This wasn't just idle boasting.
Having traveled the martial world for nearly twenty years, he had indeed seen quite a lot of swordplay.
In contrast, Ye Zhibai had likely done nothing but practice within the Frost-Sigh Sect since childhood.
To put it nicely, she had a sect’s inheritance; to put it bluntly, she was working behind closed doors. Perspective was sometimes more useful than hard practice.
“A little bit more?”
Ye Zhibai bit her lip, her eyes turning slightly red.
This man was clearly humiliating her.
Seeing her like this, Chen Zui sighed.
“Fine, lose the long face. Your foundation is good, but you’re trapped by the manual. Let me ask you, what is the name of the swordplay you just practiced?”
“The Frost-Sigh Nine Forms,” Ye Zhibai muttered.
“Frost-Sigh... the key lies in the word ‘Sigh.’”
Chen Zui snatched the snow-white longsword from Ye Zhibai’s hand and flicked the blade lightly.
A crisp sound rang out, like breaking ice.
After the sword’s hum, a thin layer of frost condensed on the blade.
“What is a sigh? It’s a sound, an emotion; it’s alive.
“But what you display are rigid sword moves with none of your own emotion inside.
“What kind of state of mind do you think your sect’s ancestor was in when they created this sword technique?”
Ye Zhibai was stunned.
She had never thought about that question.
From childhood to now, her master had only taught her how to practice every move and stance to perfection. No one had ever told her to understand the meaning behind the swordplay.
“If you can’t figure it out, take your time.”
After saying that, Chen Zui turned and went back into the ruined temple, leaving Ye Zhibai standing alone in the snow in a daze.
Inside the temple, A-Man was crouching by the fire, gnawing on dry rations.
Seeing Chen Zui enter, he gave a thumbs-up in admiration. “Brother Chen, impressive! You tamed that little lady with just a few words.”
“Shut up and eat your rations.”
Chen Zui kicked him irritably.
A-Man chuckled and didn’t mind, continuing to gnaw on his food.
After a long while, Ye Zhibai finally returned from outside.
The coldness on her face had lessened slightly, replaced by a thoughtful expression.
She walked up to Chen Zui, hesitated for a moment, and said softly, “Thank you.”
“Thank me for what?”
“For enlightening me.”
Ye Zhibai looked at him seriously.
“My master never taught me what you said just now. I thought about it, and it makes sense.”
Chen Zui raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised.
This girl might have a bit of a temper, but she was at least willing to listen to advice, unlike some so-called sect geniuses who would only fly into a rage after having their flaws pointed out.
“It’s good that you can take it to heart.”
Chen Zui stood up and hoisted his long spear onto his shoulder.
“Let’s go. It’s time to hit the road.”
The three of them led their horses and set out.
Ye Zhibai rode the White-Hoofed Crow at the front.
A-Man rode the scruffy horse left behind by the Life-Severing Monk.
Meanwhile, Chen Zui continued to walk with his spear.
“Brother Chen, aren’t you going to ride a horse?” A-Man asked curiously.
“No need.” Chen Zui smiled slightly. “I walk faster than you ride.”
A-Man clearly didn’t believe him and was about to mock him when he saw Chen Zui move like the wind. His entire being turned into a blur, covering dozens of zhang in the blink of an eye.
A-Man: “...”
Ye Zhibai: “...”
What kind of monster was this man?!
The two of them hurried to spur their mounts, but no matter how they pushed their horses, they remained at a set distance from Chen Zui.
What was even more infuriating was that Chen Zui was actually walking backward.
“You two have two horses and eight legs between you, yet you can’t outrun my two legs. Isn’t it embarrassing?”
Chen Zui crossed his arms and looked at them with a beaming smile.
Ye Zhibai gritted her teeth in anger, but she could do nothing about him.
“Brother Chen! What kind of movement technique is that? Teach me!”
A-Man shamelessly asked for instruction.
“You? Wait until you’ve put some meat on those skin-and-bones of yours first.”
Chen Zui shot him down without mercy.
A-Man curled his lip and muttered under his breath, “Stingy.”
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