The courtyard was quiet in the early morning.
Mist clung low to the ground, curling around the bases of the ancient trees.
Shen Wuchen stood in the center, sword sheathed, eyes closed.
He inhaled slowly, letting the first rays of dawn fill his lungs.
Every breath was precise, measured, like the ticking of an invisible clock.
He opened his eyes and exhaled, releasing tension he did not know he had been holding.
The technique he was about to practice required perfect alignment of bloodline energy, body, and spiritual flow.
He had named it Heaven-Severing Nine Forms.
And today he would awaken the first three forms.
He placed his palm over his chest, feeling the faint pulse of his dragon bloodline.
The warmth spread through his veins, subtle but undeniable.
His breathing followed the rhythm of his pulse.
Inhale — observe the qi around him.
Exhale — circulate it through the body.
The Void Dragon Breath instructed him to integrate all three: bloodline, body, and mind.
He visualized the energy in his core, the forbidden dragon essence coiling like a serpent, intertwining with his Celestial Maiden Body's stable qi.
It was delicate, fragile, yet raw and powerful.
With each breath, the energy circulated:
From the dantian to his limbs.
From the limbs back to his core.
Circling again through the sword's grip and tip.
A faint shimmer appeared along his robes.
It was subtle to any observer.
But it was the first sign of energy perfectly harmonized with bloodline and body.
He inhaled again, feeling the qi respond, twisting slightly as he imagined the forms of the sword.
He drew the sword slowly.
Form One — Void Step Slash.
He moved forward, pivoting, stepping lightly.
The blade traced an arc that cut the morning air, precise, unseen in its speed.
The mist parted, revealing only the faint trail of motion.
Shen Wuchen felt the flow of qi in the blade, linking the strike to his circulation.
Every muscle, every tendon, every drop of blood followed the path of the sword.
He advanced to Form Two — Dragon's Breath Cut.
The dragon-bloodline essence flared faintly along the blade.
It was not destructive in appearance, but Shen Wuchen knew it could slice through defenses much stronger than the average disciple.
His circulation adjusted automatically.
Qi surged from the dantian, flowed into his limbs, then into the sword tip.
The strike was linear, true, and devastatingly precise.
Form Three — Celestial Harmony Reversal.
He twisted mid-motion, allowing his Celestial Maiden qi to restructure the energy around the strike.
The motion appeared elegant, almost casual.
But the manipulation of energy disrupted the natural flow around him.
Had there been an array, it would have faltered.
Had there been an opponent, their defenses would have been undermined.
Each strike required perfect synchronization of Void Dragon Breath and body movement.
He inhaled, absorbing the ambient spiritual energy.
Exhaled, sending it through his bloodline and limbs.
The circulation was flawless, smooth, without waste.
Each cycle strengthened the next strike, each breath reinforcing the previous motion.
It was not speed that defined him.
It was precision.
By the time the sun had risen fully, Shen Wuchen's first three forms flowed seamlessly together.
Mist swirled around him, responding to the faint dragon-blood aura.
Sweat dotted his brow, but his expression remained calm.
He paused, feeling the energy recirculate through his core.
Dantian stable, bloodline essence active, body fully aligned, he noted silently.
The first three forms were complete.
And yet, he knew this was only the beginning.
Heathens of the sect might have called this simple training.
But Shen Wuchen understood the truth: mastery began with perfect circulation, precise breathing, and bloodline synchronization.
If any one part faltered, the form would collapse.
Mistakes would mean disaster.
He sheathed the sword slowly.
The air around him seemed calmer, almost in awe of the discipline.
His two friends, watching from a distance, approached silently.
"You… you don't even sweat," one of them whispered.
Shen Wuchen shook his head slightly.
"Discipline is not effort," he said softly.
"It is understanding."
From the edge of the courtyard, the presiding elder watched quietly.
The boy had talent unlike any in decades.
Yet there was restraint in his movements, a calm that bordered on unnerving.
One day, the elder thought, that calm would either save him… or terrify those who faced him.
The first three forms of Heaven-Severing Nine were mastered.
The remaining six sword styles waited.
His journey to cut the Heavens has just begun.
-----
Elder Liu had risen before dawn, as was his habit.
The morning mist still clung to the courtyard when he stepped quietly to inspect the early risers.
He expected to find sleepy novices performing the same clumsy forms as always.
Perhaps a few prodigies, yes, but nothing that would truly impress an elder of his experience.
As he rounded the corner toward the training field, a faint shimmer caught his eye.
At first, he thought it was the rising sun reflecting off the dew.
But no.
There, in the center of the mist, a lone figure moved with fluid perfection.
Shen Wuchen.
The boy's sword traced arcs in the air that seemed to bend reality itself.
Every step, every pivot, every strike was measured, precise, and flawless.
The energy circulating through him was subtle, yet Liu could feel it even from a distance — a quiet pulse, strong and disciplined, intertwined with something foreign and unmistakably dangerous.
He blinked, not trusting his eyes at first.
The boy moved through the first three forms of his Heaven-Severing Nine Forms with seamless flow.
The air itself seemed to respond to him.
Liu's heart beat faster.
This was no ordinary talent.
This was a prodigy of unprecedented potential.
He watched silently, afraid that any sound might break the spell of the performance.
Every motion spoke of years of insight, control, and comprehension far beyond his apparent age.
And then, the subtle glow of bloodline energy — dragon essence — along the blade.
Liu inhaled sharply, his expectations suddenly soaring.
He had expected talent, perhaps even genius.
But this… this was beyond even what his imagination had allowed.
The boy exhaled, the energy flowing back into his core with perfect circulation.
The last strike of the third form was executed without haste, without flourish, yet every ounce of power, precision, and intention had been conveyed.
Liu stepped back, hiding himself in the mist, his mind racing.
If he continues like this, the elder thought, in a few years he will surpass every core disciple here, and perhaps even some of the elders themselves.
A chill ran down his spine.
He had not expected this when he had started his morning inspection.
He had only intended to glance at the courtyard.
Instead, he had witnessed the first true stirrings of a legend.
Shen Wuchen lowered his sword, his expression calm, unaware that he had been observed.
Elder Liu remained hidden, silent, his thoughts heavy with anticipation.
This boy… he murmured softly, his path will not be ordinary. Heaven itself may bend before him.
And with that, he retreated quietly, leaving the boy to his discipline, the mist swallowing the faint shimmer of dragon bloodline energy.
---
The training field was alive with the morning sun.
Rows of disciples moved through their sparring exercises, wooden swords clashing, sparks of qi flickering along steel edges.
Shen Wuchen stepped onto the field quietly, his robe brushing the grass.
He inhaled deeply, drawing in the ambient spiritual energy.
The Void Dragon Breath flowed through him, circulating his bloodline essence with effortless precision.
Each breath synchronized with the beat of his heart.
Exhale — the energy poured from his dantian, coursing through limbs and into his sword.
Inhale — he absorbed the surrounding qi, feeding it into the circulation.
It was perfect, seamless, like water flowing through channels carved by instinct.
His first opponent approached: a tall boy from a minor but ambitious family.
Confidence radiated from him, overblown and arrogant.
"You're the new recruit, right?" the boy said with a sneer.
Shen Wuchen inclined his head.
"Yes. Shall we begin?"
The boy laughed, drawing his blade.
"I hope you're as talented as they say."
The clash was sudden.
Wooden and steel met with a ringing crack.
Shen Wuchen's movements were calm, observant.
He did not attack recklessly.
He waited, reading the boy's stance, noting the slight imbalance in his shoulders.
The first strike came, broad and sweeping.
Shen Wuchen sidestepped with a slight pivot, letting the swing pass harmlessly.
In that same motion, he extended his arm and delivered Form One — Void Step Slash.
The blade cut a precise line toward the boy's midsection, barely brushing him, enough to unbalance.
The opponent staggered back, wide-eyed.
Breathing smoothly, Shen Wuchen moved to Form Two — Dragon's Breath Cut.
His dragon-bloodline energy flared along the sword.
The strike was linear, unyielding, slicing through the boy's defenses as if they were paper.
Qi surged, flowing through Shen Wuchen's body in perfect rhythm.
The boy's feet slipped.
He tried to recover, but the precision of the strike had destabilized him.
Form Three — Celestial Harmony Reversal.
Shen Wuchen twisted mid-motion, letting his Celestial Maiden qi subtly restructure the energy around the strike.
The boy swung again, but his own flow of qi was disrupted.
His sword faltered.
Shen Wuchen's blade moved again, targeting openings that had never existed a moment before.
The attack ended with the boy sprawling on the ground, unhurt but completely subdued.
The surrounding disciples stared in disbelief.
Even the instructors' eyes narrowed, impressed and cautious.
A faint hum of dragon energy lingered in the air, almost imperceptible but undeniable to those with trained senses.
Shen Wuchen stood, breathing evenly, expression calm as ever.
Heathing his sword, he bowed slightly to the boy.
"That is enough," he said softly.
Next came a pair of heirs from one of the sect's influential families.
They approached together, exchanging smirks, clearly intending to dominate.
One leapt forward, another circled wide.
Shen Wuchen observed.
He noted the subtle differences in their qi signatures, their preferred strike patterns, even the way their eyes shifted before a feint.
He inhaled, drawing the energy of the courtyard into himself.
Exhaled, sending it through the first form.
The first clash was lightning-fast.
His blade moved with unerring precision, connecting at angles the opponents did not anticipate.
One tried a deceptive lunge; Shen Wuchen's step anticipated it perfectly.
The other swung with brute force; his blade was deflected effortlessly by a subtle shift in angle.
Form One, Form Two, Form Three flowed seamlessly, each strike drawing on Void Dragon Breath circulation.
The two heirs faltered, bewildered.
Shen Wuchen's movements were calm, almost meditative.
Yet each strike carried lethal intent.
Each pivot, each step, exploited the smallest opening.
The battle was over almost before it began.
The heirs lay on the ground, uninjured but fully humbled.
The surrounding disciples gasped.
Even the two friends who had accompanied him were wide-eyed.
A presiding elder approached, voice firm but calm.
"Enough. Discipline and control are paramount. You may end the session."
Shen Wuchen nodded, sheathing his sword with deliberate grace.
He turned, walking away quietly, leaving the two humbled heirs silent.
The field buzzed with whispers:
"He… he could have killed them."
"He never raises his voice. Yet he dominates completely."
Later, Shen Wuchen retreated to a secluded corner of the courtyard.
He sat cross-legged, focusing on his breathing again.
The first three forms were mastered, but he circulated the qi further, refining synchronization between his dragon bloodline and Celestial Maiden body.
The energy spiraled through him, forming subtle loops of power, reinforcing every tendon, every muscle, every nerve.
He exhaled slowly, the aura stabilizing around him like a perfectly tuned blade.
The Void Dragon Breath is now fully integrated with the first three forms.
Shen Wuchen exhaled one last time, eyes closed, the sword resting across his knees.
He did not smile.
He did not boast.
He merely breathed, felt the flow of qi, and prepared for the forms to come.
And with them, the legend of the Heaven-Severing Nine Forms would truly begin.
---