"Grip it tight. If you wish to become a Cloud Knight, you must never let your weapon leave your hand, nor let your form falter,"
"Yes, Master!"
"Stand firm. Your legs must not shake. An unstable lower body is easily breached by the enemy."
Qi Zhimu swung the wooden sword in his hand and slapped it against Jingliu's leg with a force that was by no means light.
"Maintain the standard posture and swing your sword three thousand times consecutively. If even one swing is non-standard, the count restarts."
"If you cannot complete the quota, keep practicing until you collapse from exhaustion."
Hearing such harsh demands, the teenage Jingliu couldn't help but shiver inwardly.
"Yes, Master..."
"Begin."
Qi Zhimu stepped back a few paces expressionlessly and stood to the side, watching intently.
Time passed, and sweat washed over Jingliu's cheeks like a burst dam, dripping down from her chin.
Jingliu's vision grew somewhat blurry, her hands tightly gripping the longsword.
"One thousand six hundred and twenty-one, one thousand six hundred and twenty-two..."
Now, with every swing of the sword, the muscles in both her arms felt as if they were being seared by red-hot branding irons, burning with intense pain.
The longsword, which originally weighed only a few catties, now felt no lighter than ten jun.
Every whistle of the sword through the air was accompanied by the girl's heavy panting.
It was high noon, and the blazing sun was like a torch.
The ground of the entire Martial Arts Field was scalding hot, the heat baking the wind until it was scorching.
Qi Zhimu stood under the scorching sun with his arms crossed, his eyes like a pool of stagnant water, completely unmoved by the figure struggling in pain.
If Jingliu's sword path deviated by even an inch, or if her breathing missed half a beat, his cold gaze would catch it.
"Posture is wrong. Restart the three thousand swings."
With a flick of his wrist, Qi Zhimu's wooden sword accurately struck Jingliu's wrist.
"Hiss—"
Jingliu gasped in pain, her hand shaking violently from spasms, and the longsword nearly slipped from her grasp.
She bit her lower lip until beads of blood appeared, forcing her numb fingers to lock onto the sword hilt.
"One of the advantages of us Long-lived Species over Short-Lived Species is the presence of an extra organ called the elixir organ within our bodies."
Qi Zhimu's voice still held no warmth.
"Do not use brute force to fight fatigue. Control your breathing rhythm, feel the energy released by the elixir organ during high-intensity exercise, and mobilize every inch of your muscles to absorb it."
"...Yes! Mas...ter..."
Jingliu's voice couldn't help but tremble as she swung her sword and followed Qi Zhimu's guidance to feel the energy.
Unknowingly, the setting sun stretched their shadows very long.
Three shichen passed, and she still hadn't completed the task Qi Zhimu had set.
"Restart."
"..."
Jingliu's vision began to darken, and she felt dizzy.
Her limbs had lost most of their sensation, yet she continued to swing the sword.
"One, two, three..."
Taking advantage of the gap when Jingliu opened her mouth, Qi Zhimu flicked his fingers and tossed a tiny pill into her mouth.
It was a type of supplementary medicine for ascetic practice that could effectively prevent the body from lacking water or even dehydrating.
If not for this, Jingliu would have been unable to hold on long ago.
Night gradually fell.
"One thousand eight hundred and ninety-nine... one thousand nine hundred..."
Before the sword swing was complete, Jingliu's legs gave way, and she collapsed forward, her strength spent.
The expected mouthful of dust did not happen.
A steady and powerful hand grabbed her back collar and then pulled, allowing her to barely stabilize herself.
"Thank you, Mas...ter..."
Jingliu wanted to cry, but having never stopped sweating, there was no excess water left in her body... Three thousand was a hopeless number; she couldn't complete it.
Just as she was about to start again, her vision went black, and she fell toward the ground once more, finally landing in Qi Zhimu's arms.
Even now, she had not let go of the longsword in her hand.
Qi Zhimu pried her fingers open, his gaze sweeping over her palms where the skin was rubbed raw and blood had stained the sword hilt; the cold hardness in his eyes gradually faded.
He picked up Jingliu's small, thin body in his arms and walked across the empty Martial Arts Field toward the inner residence.
A bitter and refreshing scent of herbs permeated the entire bathroom.
Placing Jingliu on a soft couch behind a screen, Qi Zhimu brought over a healing spray and applied it to her palms.
The Xianzhou people were blessed with the Power of Abundance, so their wounds healed much faster than those of Short-Lived Species. With external help, the raw and swollen palms quickly scabbed over.
Once the injuries were fully healed, no traces would be left behind.
Generally speaking, this was an advantage for the Xianzhou people, but in certain circumstances, it was a misfortune—such as for the 'Heaven-Deficient' who were born with disabilities.
If they were blind, even if cured temporarily, they would become blind again.
If they suffered from dwarfism, even if they grew taller through special methods, they would revert back.
There were also some extremely subtle heaven-deficient conditions that could lie dormant for decades or even centuries.
Fortunately, Jingliu currently showed no Heaven-Deficient symptoms; she was just physically delicate from growing up with a silver spoon in her mouth.
Putting down the spray, Qi Zhimu took out a white jade bottle from his robe, walked behind the screen, poured the green powder inside into a wooden tub, and added boiling water.
The medicinal powder dissolved in the water, boiling and bubbling with strange colors and emitting a vibrant aura.
After throwing all the expensive herbs prepared nearby into the tub, he rolled up his sleeves and walked toward the couch.
Jingliu's clothes had long been soaked with sweat, sticking tightly to her thin back along with mixed sand and soil.
Qi Zhimu's slender fingers rested on her collar button and gently undid it.
As the clothes were removed, her skin, flushed red from the high heat and sweat, was exposed to the air.
Her shoulders and elbows were covered in shocking patches of bruising, the result of muscle tears from excessive sword swinging.
Qi Zhimu got a basin of warm water and wetted a soft towel to meticulously wipe away the sweat and grime from her body.
Whenever he touched the bruised areas, the sleeping Jingliu would still subconsciously frown and let out a faint hum.
Qi Zhimu's movements became even gentler.
Once the cleaning was finished, he picked up Jingliu and placed her into the wooden tub where the medicinal liquid was at just the right temperature.
"Mmm..."
The moment the hot medicinal liquid soaked her entire body, Jingliu's body trembled violently.
The medicinal power was surging through her open pores, forcefully washing over her overextended muscle cells.
A few minutes passed, and Jingliu's ragged breathing gradually stabilized.
Her small face, pale from exhaustion, gradually took on a faint pink hue under the influence of the medicinal steam.
Her surface injuries, which had been too painful to look at, reduced in swelling and recovered at a visible rate.
More than half a shichen later.
The green medicinal liquid in the wooden tub gradually became transparent, showing that the medicinal power had been well absorbed.
Qi Zhimu lifted the soaking girl out, wrapped her in a bath towel to wipe off the water, and finally put her in loose pajamas before carrying her back to her room.
Jingliu's brows relaxed, and her breathing became even and deep.
A sliver of moonlight spilled into the room.
Qi Zhimu picked up the silver moon jade pendant on the table, examined it for a moment, and sighed as he tied it around Jingliu's neck.
In fact, even if Jingliu chose to spend the rest of her life in a daze, he would still take care of her.
After all, it was her mother's dying wish... but fear and despair are not washed away by time. Living like that would be more painful than death; perhaps it is better to face fear with hatred.
Jingliu, don't blame Master for being cruel.
Since you have chosen this path, I will not allow you to die easily on the battlefield.
To survive on the battlefield, one must gain power and pay a price of hardship and sacrifice unimaginable to ordinary people.
Visit my Patreon to read up to 105 chapters ahead and enjoy daily updates:
patreon.com/02Fanworks
An extra chapter will be published for every 100 power stones.
An extra chapter will be published for every 2 comments made about the book.