The courtyard was quiet, dawn's mist slowly dispersing. Xiao Tian was teaching Xiao Wu and Ning Rongrong the initial basics of sword control when he noticed Zhu Zhuqing standing a small distance away.
Her cold eyes seemed conflicted. She shuffled a step forward—and then back. Forward again—and stopped. Silent torment flashed across her face.
Xiao Tian's smile warmed gently. "Zhuqing," he called. "Do you want to join them too? This sword‑controlling technique may not be as useful for you and Xiao Wu as it is for Rongrong, but if your talent responds, it will still give you power in battle."
He reached into his soul guide and pulled out a wooden practice sword he had prepared yesterday. With a casual flick, he tossed it toward her.
Zhu Zhuqing's pupils shimmered faintly. She caught the wooden sword, lips tightening as though words clung stubbornly to her throat.
She hadn't expected—after everything—that Xiao Tian still treated her the same.
Her chest constricted when she remembered how she had once instinctively leaned toward Dai Mubai and the others. Though that had been nothing but habit brought from her background and the fact of her arranged "engagement," it gnawed at her conscience.
With a deep breath, Zhu Zhuqing lowered her head, stepped before Xiao Tian, and whispered.
"…Sorry."
The single word, soft as falling rain, rippled through the courtyard.
Xiao Tian blinked in faint surprise, then realized her meaning. Of course. That incident. Her instinctive loyalty.
Yet he had never counted it against her. After all, they hadn't known each other long back then. And though her bond with Dai Mubai was broken and rotten, he was still her betrothed in name at that time. Subconscious inclinations were only natural.
Now that the famously aloof princess stood in public, before Xiao Wu and Ning Rongrong no less, and let those words of apology pass her lips—this was already a huge step.
Xiao Tian waved a hand lightly. "No need. If you hadn't mentioned it, I'd have forgotten already."
Zhu Zhuqing's lips parted slightly, gratitude flickering in those quiet eyes.
…
He led the three girls toward an open clearing. From his ring, Xiao Tian retrieved a slim bundle of notes, handwritten by himself. He handed a copy to each.
"This… is the foundational method of sword control I drafted last night. It's valuable. If you fail to learn, that's fine… but don't pass it to others."
His voice was serious, his gaze steady.
The three women replied in unison: "Don't worry. We'll keep it secret."
Xiao Tian nodded, pleased.
"Then first, I'll recite to you the guiding formula."
He closed his eyes, speaking slowly, voice thick with ancient cadence:
"The sword path is subtle, the sword energy delicate. Man and sword are one; two streams, one origin. Control with spirit, let energy be invincible. The sword is born of heart, the sword soul responds. Qi flows into blade; the sword rides, flies. Wherever sword intent cuts—heaven and earth themselves divide."
His voice struck like a bell through the courtyard. Even Xiao Wu and the others, though unable to grasp every depth, felt their hearts tremble.
From the shadows of distance, two figures observed.
Chen Xin's ears twitched, his eyes blazing. What exquisite intent! What a mantra!
Even with his realm as Sword Douluo, even with his Seven Kill inheritance, these words gave him new understanding. His chest surged hot, his lifelong pathways subtly shifting. Can such a youth truly open new doors even for me?
Tang San stood beside him, but his expression was entirely different. Dark and unreadable, his mind churned with old memories.
Sword control… Shushan lore. Could Xiao Tian hail from that place—the legendary Shu Mountain? In my previous world, the number one sword sect… His mind tangled further, misled by his own past.
Xiao Tian, teaching calmly below, had no idea Tang San was drawing connections to an entirely different world. The Shushan Sword Sect he glimpsed in dream knowledge was from cultivation realms, not Tang San's martial history. The difference was like comparing heaven to earth.
…
The three women clutched their wooden swords, brows tightening as their minds strained at each word.
"This feels… profound," Ning Rongrong muttered, biting her lip as she stared at her blade. Then her curiosity overtook her thoughts, and she asked:
"Xiao Tian… if it's you, right now… can you control the sword without invoking your martial spirit?"
The words had barely left her mouth when the wooden sword slipped free from her grip. It floated upward into the air, suspended between her and Xiao Tian, trembling gently like metal magnetized to presence.
"Wow!" She gasped, covering her mouth in disbelief. "This is too magical!"
Xiao Wu laughed softly, less surprised. After all, she had seen him conjure another external sword back when they were in the Star Dou Great Forest. Still—even she had nearly forgotten how absurd it had been.
What she didn't know was that Xiao Tian wasn't simply channeling martial fusion. He had relied heavily on the divine weapon—the Red Dragon Fang gifted by the system. That blade, far superior even to today's Xuanyuan Sword, slept patiently within his reach.
If he had the strength to draw out its true power… even someone like the Titan Ape or Azure Bull Python might've been sliced to pieces. For now, though, he was still like Chen Jingchou with the Xuanyuan Sword—clutching divinity as a mortal, not yet enough to wield it fully.
…
Chen Xin and Tang San's pupils shrank, the sight of Xiao Tian controlling not just his spirit blade but common swords leaving them shocked.
"Can it… really succeed?" Chen Xin whispered to himself, disbelieving. Then he chuckled bitterly. Why had he never dared to try this path himself? Perhaps because he had chained himself too tightly to tradition.
"I am indeed old," he muttered. "My thinking fossilized… this boy's mind runs free."
Still, the realization planted a new desire in him. If Ning Rongrong could truly pick up this self-defense method… then maybe, just maybe, he could ask Xiao Tian one day to teach this to the sect's disciples.
Sword control wasn't just a flashy trick. He knew well—every higher sword technique, even his Ten Thousand Swords Falling from Heaven, ultimately derived from sword control.
This youth was pulling on the root of all swordsmanship.
…
Zhu Zhuqing, Ning Rongrong, and Xiao Wu stared hard at Xiao Tian's gestures as he repeated the mantra slowly once more. Stiffly, they raised their wooden swords, hands trembling as they sought resonance.
Xiao Wu's voice rose gently. "Brother, can you… slow down? That pace just now… too fast. Teach us again?"
Her clear eyes begged, the ears of her rabbit spirit twitching coyly.
Xiao Tian's expression softened. He nodded. "Alright. Step by step then."
He turned under the dawn light, his black robe whispering, repeating, slower this time. His every movement etched into their vision, and the three women focused like never before—determined not to miss even a single beat.
From the shadows, Sword Douluo's breath caught again. His whisper trembled with awe and sorrow.
The art of wielding a sword… Can it truly be taught?
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