With one hand, Silva picked up his quarterstaff, using no small amount of strength; anyone attempting to wield it would call it impractical. But to Silva, the staff's immense weight was its greatest trait, allowing him to utilize his equally impressive strength.
Placing both hands on the leather grip, Silva flexed his wrists as he began to twirl the staff in front of him, with ends tracing a figure eight motion through the air. The movement started off slowly as Silva adjusted to the weight and the building sense of momentum; with each spin, one end of the staff would fall, then drag itself down, only for Silva to pick it up with a flex of his wrist.
It was almost as if the staff had its own will coming alive in Silva's hands; one that threatened to fight against him if a mutual understanding wasn't reached. Once more, Silva saw many becoming frustrated, finding themselves at odds with a weapon they were trying to master. But in Silva's eyes, there was another path, one that sought to harness rather than tame.
Feeling the momentum they had built up together, Silva took a single step forward while letting go with one hand and sliding the other one down to the very end of the grip, shifting the balance and channeling the moment of the strike into a sweeping blow aimed at the head.
"My, you've come a long way," Fal muttered as he ducked under the high sweep and retaliated with a swift horizontal strike of his sword, but found it deflected by the other end of Silva's staff as it came around and continued upward in a brutal arc, humming as it tore through the air.
Fal threw himself to the side, clearing his body just in time before dashing away as Silva shifted his stance and grip, letting his staff roll across his shoulders before slamming the end onto the ground, shattering the cobblestones and the creeping grasses that had begun to sprout with the first drops of spring rain.
Catching his staff on the rebound, Silva stood up while idly spinning it with one hand, preserving the momentum he had built over the course of the fight. Another year had passed, and Silva understood why Fal had been so insistent for him to wait before picking a weapon. Without the additional insight into himself, Silva might have chosen something other than a staff, a weapon with which he had the most affinity.
"Your defensive style will make you a difficult contender for those around your level, but there is no guarantee that you'll only face those at your level." Fal advised as he stood up and another sword appeared in his off hand, "So what will you do in the face of overwhelming force?"
Fal grinned before turning into little more than a blur as he threw himself at Silva who had already started moving the moment his uncle had revealed another sword.
Arriving in front of Silva in the blink of an eye, Fal lunged, with the twin points of his sword extended out in front of him like lances.
But as Fal surged forward, Silva slipped away, sliding all of his weight onto his back foot while planting the butt of his staff into the ground. Then, with that same leg, Silva jumped into the air, letting Fal's swords pass harmlessly beneath him.
Glancing up at his nephew Fal watched as Silva appeared to levitate, floating into the air like a paper lamp. Fal was tempted to watch such a graceful flight, but his honed eyes caught the tension that spread across Silva's body as his muscles flexed.
Sensing an incoming danger, Fal jumped following Silva into the air as his nephew reached the apex of his flight, cresting directly above his staff, putting him in the perfect position as his palm shot out and slammed down on the end of his staff.
There was a muffled bang followed by a loud crack as the earth around Silva's embedded staff buckled before collapsing into a crater while a violent tremor shook the ground.
"Such destructive power!" Fal cheered as he flew to hover above Silva with his arms crossing in front of him, bringing his swords across in an X, "But what will you do now?"
Fal was pulled back down towards the earth on course to collide with Silva and was prepared to carve through anything that happened to be in his way.
Still Silva did not waver in the slightest despite his precarious situation; instead, the palm that had struck his staff like a hammer wrapped around the weighted wood and pulled.
Instead of moving closer to his staff, Silva's muscles flexed as he tore his staff free from the ground and swung it around behind him while using the momentum to spin around and face his uncle head on.
Fal watched the scene and fought the urge to shake his head as at the last moment, he was forced to abandon his attack and use both his swords to deflect Silva's staff. Still, the glancing blow sent a powerful reverberation through Fal's hands and sent him flying back up into the air.
Meanwhile, Silva was propelled in the other direction, shooting back down towards the earth like a comet. Glancing over his shoulder, Silva watched as the ground rushed up to meet and waited until the very last second before sticking his staff out behind him.
Like a hot knife through butter Silva's staff cut through the earth leaving behind a narrow but deep furrow in the ground before coming to a sudden stop. Tightening his grip, Silva refused to be separated from his staff as he flipped around and landed in a crouch.
A second later, Fal landed a few feet away with only a slight bend in his knees, "No one your size should be able to move that quickly. Do you know how damn frustrating you are to deal with? All you do is defend, defend, never attack. Never leave any openings or go for the ones I leave for you to exploit!"
Silva smiled at his uncle's plight as he stood up and pulled his staff free from the ground, "By design, staffs aren't made for killing or wounding, so why bother investing in something that actively opposes the nature of my weapon?"
"A well-made argument," Fal conceded the point, but he wasn't finished with the conversation at large, "But when you're on the battlefield surrounded by enemies, can you afford to engage in a battle of attrition with potentially hundreds at once? Eventually, you will be overrun; you need a way to end the fight on your terms in a decisive manner, instead of just hoping they'll get bored and give up."
"I know, it's an issue I hope to address once I break through and learn a few techniques after all, I'll have a hard time killing any cultivator by just relying on a weapon," Silva replied.
Fal opened his mouth to answer, but was drowned out by the distant yet booming blare of a horn that shook the air with its deep baritone.
"And so the tides of fate come pouring in," Fal intoned as he looked to the sky, "It seems that my estimation of five years was too generous."
"What was that, Uncle?" Silva asked, following Fal's gaze that was aimed at the horizon.
"A summons," Fal answered as his swords vanished and he folded his arms within the sleeves of his robes, "Calling every available member of the clan to the main courtyard to receive critical news."
"You believe-" Silva started, but Fal interrupted him, "I don't believe I know. This is the moment you've been preparing for, the time is now, Little Vine."
Fal stepped forward to place a hand on Silva's shoulder, "You can stop holding back now, I know it must have taken its toll on you over these past few years."
Silva said nothing, but there was a subtle shift in the air around him; to the naked eye, it was nothing more than a slight gust of wind, but to Fal's senses, he felt as Silva became the eye of a storm as Qi rushed into his pores, flooding his body that had been deprived for the last four years.
An involuntary sigh of relief escaped Silva's lips as the unpleasant, almost hunger-like pangs he had been forced to endure over the last four years finally subsided, giving him a sudden surge of vigor.
"Is suppressing your passive cultivation truly that much of a chore?" Fal asked as they moved inside.
"Yes, not only does it feel unpleasant, but it is something I have to constantly think about when it should be instinctual, like manually telling your lungs to breathe instead of relying on the reflex," Silva explained.
Fal grunted, "Well, it's a good thing you're able to manage it; otherwise, hiding would be a pointless endeavor."
After their brief conversation, Fal and Silva arrived in the training hall. Over the last four years, the room had undergone a significant transformation in preparation for that exact moment. Across the walls and the floor, Fal had painstakingly painted intricate formations consisting of interconnecting lines and overlapping shapes, creating a dizzying array. And in the very center of the room, sat a large stone brazier that could easily hold several hundred logs at once.
"It's not a proper cultivation chamber, but it should do the trick," Fal commented as he inspected his own brush work, ensuring that he hadn't missed a vital stroke that would cause the array to collapse even if it was one of the most basic kinds.
'An array is a collection of formations working in tandem, an intricate system that relies on every piece fulfilling its role. If one part fails, then the whole system will collapse.'
The array Fal had established was a simple Qi Containment Array, commonly used in cultivation chambers, rooms designed to prevent Qi and other energies from leaking out. Especially at the later realms, when breakthroughs and ascensions could be particularly violent. But in this instance, the energy wouldn't be coming from Silva.
Glancing at his nephew, Fal nodded when he saw Silva had already taken his position, sitting in front of the brazier that now stood at his eyeline and stripped down to just his undergarments, "There's no need for me to ask if you're prepared for what's to come, is there?"
Silva simply closed his eyes and took a series of deep, steady breaths, slipping into a meditative state and making Fal smirk. "Very well, I guess I've been holding you back for long enough."