Half a minute later—
"Hey, Tang San, what's with you?" Suifeng asked, looking puzzled as he saw Tang San's eyes shimmering with tears.
He glanced at Tang San's Mysterious Jade Hands, not even a scratch. What's he crying for? Tang San wasn't the crybaby type in the original story...
Tang San snapped back to reality and looked at his hands—still clean and unscathed.
"That's it?" he asked in disbelief, staring at Suifeng. The wind blade had looked so powerful, he had even mentally prepared for death—and now he found out it hadn't even scratched him?
Suifeng looked a little embarrassed. "Ahem, I was afraid I'd hurt you, so I held back. You'd better be careful this time."
He then snapped his fingers stylishly, and another green wind blade shot toward Tang San.
This time, Tang San had learned his lesson. He pulled out a pebble and flicked it toward the windblade.
"Bang—" The two projectiles collided mid-air. The pebble fell to the ground unharmed, and the wind blade dissipated.
From this, Tang San roughly gauged the wind blade's strength and felt slightly ashamed. He, a genius of the Tang Sect, had been scared by such a weak trick? This wasn't his old world anymore.
Methods in this world were strange and varied, but Tang San believed that with his Tang Sect techniques, he could still make a name for himself on this continent.
"Hmph, just a petty trick. Nothing impressive."
The wind calmed, the rain stopped—Tang San was feeling confident again.
"Yo, Tang San, weren't you just scared by that 'petty trick'?" Suifeng teased, eyes narrowed.
Tang San flushed slightly. Whether it was because he'd been in a child's body too long or because of his years pretending to be one, his mentality had started to shift—he was... a little too youthful. "Hmph."
He snorted and didn't bother arguing. He instead rushed in to teach Suifeng a lesson—the Tang Sect was all about winning hearts with virtue, after all.
Another round of tug-of-war began. Suifeng kept snapping his fingers, summoning wind blades that were blocked by Tang San's Mysterious Jade Hands with ease.
But that also disrupted Tang San's attack rhythm. Still, he remained calm—he knew Suifeng's strange drifting footwork wasn't sustainable.
All he had to do was wait for it to run out. When that happened, he could do whatever he wanted to Suifeng!
Their figures darted back and forth at high speed, like a dance of illusions—but neither could gain the upper hand.
Their abilities had clear parallels:
Tang San had Purple Demon Eye, and Suifeng had Radiant Divine Eye.
Tang San had the Ghost Shadow Perplexing Step, and Suifeng had the Drifting Step.
Tang San had Mysterious Jade Hands, but Suifeng... did not.
Tang San had Crane-Catching Dragon-Grabbing grappling techniques, but Suifeng... still didn't.
Tang San had hidden weapon skills and the complete Tang Sect Arsenal.
Suifeng only had a newly developed wind blade, which frankly, wasn't much.
That said, thanks to his understanding of wind and a month of sparring with Tang San, Suifeng was no longer the rookie he once was.
Half an hour later—
Both were panting, exhausted. Tang San looked at Suifeng and asked:
"You're lasting way longer than usual. What's up?"
Suifeng leaned against a tree and gave a tired grin. "Because I drank Huìyuán Shenbao—'Huìyuán Shenbao, good for you, good for me.'"
In truth, it was the Marrow Cleansing Pill. His outward strength was now roughly on par with Tang San—though actual combat ability was still debatable.
"Hmph, whatever. I'm done fighting."
Tang San waved it off, signaling surrender.
Suifeng immediately plopped down, back against the tree.
"You should've said so earlier—I wouldn't have forced myself."
Tang San walked over and sat under the shade, focusing on regulating his inner strength.
A breeze rustled through the trees. The two boys rested quietly under the tree. For once, things felt peaceful.
Not long after, Suifeng, as if performing a magic trick, pulled out a jade xiao (vertical flute). He had already used the system to learn how to play, along with simplified scores for the Top Ten Solo Xiao Classics.
He figured he could use the time to practice.
Tang San wasn't surprised. Suifeng had explained earlier that it was a soul tool. He didn't ask where it came from.
"You know how to play the xiao?" Tang San asked, glancing over curiously.
"Hmph, your young master here knows all kinds of things," Suifeng said smugly.
Tang San, already used to his mouthiness, replied flatly: "Hmph. Can you give birth then?"
Suifeng was momentarily speechless. Wait—what? Did Tang San just go rogue? Who taught him that?!
Choosing to ignore Tang San's snark, Suifeng calmed his mind, trying to maintain a tranquil, peaceful state.
He lifted the xiao to his lips, recalling the breathing techniques and fingering from the memory fragment, and began to play.
The xiao is an instrument born from nature, resonating with the essence of the wilderness. Its sound is like a distant echo from a deep mountain, a breeze from a hidden valley—pure, ethereal.
Historically, flutes are played horizontally, while xiaos are played vertically. Though similar, the xiao lacks the agility of the flute, which excels in vibrant, decorative techniques like flutter-tonguing or trills. The xiao, on the other hand, is suited for slow, graceful, lyrical melodies—ideal for expressing quiet, elegant emotion.
Recalling one of the top ten pieces—"Reminiscence of Playing the Xiao at Phoenix Terrace", he began to follow the score.
At first, his technique was rough. The notes came out uneven, and awkward.
Tang San looked on with a faint smirk, watching the performance like a private joke—but didn't say anything.
Gradually, the technique improved. Suifeng's fingers danced over the holes with balanced control. In time, a glimpse of the true melody of "Reminiscence of Playing the Xiao at Phoenix Terrace" emerged.
This song was adapted from a famous poem by Song Dynasty poetess Li Qingzhao, full of longing and deep emotion for loved ones far away.
Suifeng suddenly thought of his parents from his past life. Moved by emotion, he played more passionately, and the melody grew more melancholic.
The soft, elegant sound of the xiao drifted through the forest. Even Tang San, for a moment, was caught in a wave of nostalgia, remembering scenes from his past life training in the Tang Sect.
Two boys under a tree. One with a plain appearance but a sharp spirit, eyes closed in quiet listening.
The other with refined, handsome features, holding a jade xiao, focused entirely on his music.
Time stood still. Peace. Harmony. A song well played.
They didn't speak. Both sat in silence, clearly lost in memories.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Tang San squinted and asked softly, "What's the name of that piece?"
Suifeng answered, "Reminiscence of Playing the Xiao at Phoenix Terrace."
Tang San slowly stood, walking toward home. Turning back with a faint smile, he said, "You should practice more when you have time. I'll be your audience."
Suifeng also smiled gently and warmly. "Sure—so long as you don't find it too unpleasant."
Tang San waved without responding.
Suifeng watched him go, then chuckled and turned for home as well.
For a moment, there was an odd sense of harmony—you'd never guess these two were butting heads earlier.
Maybe they're similar.
That's why they can bicker and wrestle day after day and never fall out for real.