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"Ugh…"
Qing Xuanling stretched her stiff body while gazing at the notebook before her, nodding in satisfaction. Within its pages were recorded over one hundred fifty meridians—each numbered by order of discovery and labeled by bodily zone.
Though tedious, Qing Xuanling found the task deeply interesting. She not only realized how few of her body's vast meridians she actually used—but also discovered meridians shared across multiple techniques.
"Meridian BS-34: found in techniques… Unknown element. Suspected to be an elementless meridian or one tied to an element currently unknown to me." She frowned slightly.
So far, she'd logged meridians from the Iron Cutting Sword technique and roughly one-tenth of those required for her cultivation technique[The Five-Axis Rotating Art]—and BS-34 appeared in both. Strangest of all: she sensed no elemental attribute from it. Hence the "S" for Special in its label.
"Sigh… Anyway, that's enough for today." Qing Xuanling shook her head, bathed, and changed into a set of blue robes. She headed to an open area beyond the dormitories to practice her movement technique.
She felt she was finally nearing the first breakthrough with the technique.
She reached a rarely visited corner and began. Following the technique's prescribed steps, she activated specific meridians as required.
Yet running while Qi channeling meridians proved far harder than it seemed. After barely two steps—thud.
Her face met the grass.
"Pfft!"
She spat out blades of grass, rose expressionlessly, wiped herself clean, and tried again.
She ran once more, utterly focused—and fell again. Exactly where she had before. No improvement whatsoever.
She wiped her face and tried again.
Fell.
Again.
Again.
Dozens—nearly hundreds—of attempts later, she'd managed only a couple more steps than her first try today.
On the three hundred forty-seventh attempt, after three hours of training, she finally took three extra steps beyond her previous record before collapsing.
Dirt now caked her face and hair. She'd stopped wiping herself clean after the hundredth fall.
Qing Xuanling brushed soil from her eye, lay flat on her back—and smiled.
"I took twelve more steps than before…" She chuckled. She'd been doing this for days, always ending on the ground. Yet today, unexpectedly, she felt happy. "My earlier intuition was right. I'm finally getting used to this."
By now, she estimated she'd fallen over two thousand times across just four days of practice. To Qing Xuanling, this pace felt slow. Anyone else would've at least reached the entry level by now—managing the technique's first step to some degree.
Yet she felt no frustration whatsoever.
She'd endured the same with the Iron Cutting Sword.
Generally, Qing Xuanling's comprehension was outstanding—perhaps the finest among her age group in the clan. Taking so long to master a movement technique was strange.
But there was a reason.
Her stubbornness and ambition.
Whenever learning a new technique, she tested hundreds of thousands of variations—probing its limits, strengths, and weaknesses through relentless trial and error. Burning the optimal method into both mind and muscle.
It was both effective and absurd. This approach let her grasp what others needed months or years of real combat to learn—but it wasn't something she really needed.
What others required years of fighting to understand, she could learn in a few months of fighting. From a more practical point of view, she could use the time she spent learning one technique perfectly to learn two or three more techniques.
So objectively, her learning approach was not really necessary and was also inefficient.
And yet—fully aware of this—Qing Xuanling persisted. And would continue to do so.
She firmly believed her current title of "sword genius" existed because she'd seared the Iron Cutting Sword technique into her very soul and body. Without that foundation, she never would've mastered the Wandering Sword Art so swiftly or have created sword Qi..
So even if everyone told her she was wrong—she would keep going.
Qing Xuanling felt her aching body with quiet satisfaction. This pain was proof of effort. In the past, when her cultivation and strength barely advanced despite relentless effort, pain had been the only proof she'd tried at all.
And in those lonely times—it was the only comfort she had.
She took a deep breath, stood, and stretched. Today held a university class she'd long awaited.
"I wonder who'll teach the sword art class…"
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On her way to the sword art classroom, Qing Xuanling encountered a familiar face.
Qing Xunwei.
Qing Xuanling's expression turned complex as she regarded the beautiful girl wearing a floral crown.
"Second Sister… what is that?" Qing Xuanling approached, curious.
Qing Xunwei turned and regarded her in silence for several seconds before replying. "A flower crown… I think it's fairly obvious."
Her eyes held a silent question: Do you have a mental deficiency?
"…"
Qing Xuanling walked past without another glance. Behind her, Qing Xunwei covered her mouth to stifle a laugh—then her expression reverted to its usual bored emptiness.
Qing Xuanling's brisk pace brought her to the sword art classroom. She knocked. A faintly familiar voice answered.
"Enter."
She took a breath and opened the door. A spacious hall greeted her—completely empty of desks or furnishings.
And seated alone in the center of the barren classroom was an armless elder.
The armless elder smiled faintly. "Come closer. I suspect you have a question or two right now."
Qing Xuanling smirked wryly and nodded. She approached, sat cross-legged facing him, and asked without a trace of nervousness:
"How should I address you… Librarian?"
"At least ask my name, shameless brat." He shook his head, amused. "I am Qing Zizhai, Sixth Elder of the Qing Clan. Call me Elder Zi or Professor Zizhai—whichever you prefer."
Qing Xuanling wasn't surprised. The shock of discovering the librarian was a clan elder had long passed. She had already guessed it a long time ago. Now, curiosity burned elsewhere.
"Was the clan already observing me back then?" She tilted her head. "I suppose I'd already shown some talent—having partially condensed my sharp Qi. But I'd imagined support would be more direct… At the very least, not letting me spend the precious contribution points I'd earned."
Elder Zi blinked, slightly taken aback. He chuckled. "I knew you were bold—but not this bold. Aren't you afraid of offending me?"
Hehe, aren't you the one who has a certain fondness for me, elder Zi? Qing Xuanling asked mischievously. "With other elders, I might not be so informal—but our relationship isn't exactly cold… is it?"
Elder Zi's smile widened. "Mmm. Good. I like that you're an intelligent girl. You're right—our relationship is close enough to allow some teasing."
He nodded and finally answered her question.
"I gave you a special discount on the two techniques you purchased. The Wandering Sword Art is supreme-grade; the Purple Phantom Movement Technique is high-grade." Elder Zi smirked. "Buying both would normally cost at least six thousand contribution points. I'd say the support you received was quite generous."
She was mildly surprised by the true grades—but less than Elder Zi expected. She had already speculated that his techniques were stronger than normal. She let the matter drop quickly.
Qing Xuanling pouted. "Ehh… but Wentian receives far more support than I do!"
Elder Zi rolled his eyes. "Don't be whiny. Any other questions? If not—we begin class now. I have much to teach you."
Qing Xuanling nodded while glancing around the empty hall. "Why am I the only one here?"
"Do you think condensing sharp Qi is simple?" Elder Zi asked with an amused look.
"I understand it's not easy," Qing Xuanling tilted her head with genuine confusion, "but isn't the university meant to gather the clan's greatest geniuses under eighteen? If I could do it… surely others could too."
She didn't consider herself a genius, at least not entirely. Though aware she learned faster than others, she attributed it to her extreme, exhaustive approach—not innate superiority.
So in her view: if she, who spent immense time merely cultivating to avoid falling behind, could condense sharp Qi (the class requirement), several others surely could too.
Elder Zi sighed, shaking his head. "You really are a bit dense… Sigh. Well—I suppose this is precisely why the university was created. Class officially begins now. No further interruptions. I will not tolerate disrespect during instruction."
Qing Xuanling opened her mouth to retort—but one look from Elder Zi silenced her. A cold sweat broke on her neck. A chilling sensation had raced through her body the moment his gaze locked onto hers.
Elder Zi ignored her slightly pale expression and began speaking.
"All sword techniques begin with generating sharp Qi. Anyone can do it—sharp Qi is merely Qi transformed after passing through specific minor meridians. The difference in strength between cultivators who have not mastered sword Qi usually stems from the difference in quality between their techniques."
Elder Zi's eyes narrowed. Suddenly—the sound of a sword being unsheathed echoed from his own body, startling Qing Xuanling (who'd long since shaken off her fear and was listening intently).
Pure white Qi—paper-white—began emanating from Elder Zi's as he continued.
"But as everyone knows: no matter how strong or unique your sharp Qi, it does not make you a sword cultivator. After all—sharp Qi remains sharp Qi, however potent. To become a true sword cultivator, sharp Qi must undergo a qualitative transformation."
The white Qi coalesced before him, forming an exquisite white sword. The blade began circling Qing Xuanling.
"But undergoing that transformation is far harder than people think. Thus, the number of sword cultivators—or even those who've merely condensed sharp Qi—is quite small." Elder Zi's gaze sharpened. "You've undergone this transformation yourself. Any idea what triggered it?"
Qing Xuanling frowned, now fully immersed in the lesson.
Her mind flashed back to the moments she first condensed sharp Qi—and when she created sword Qi. It didn't take long to spot the recurring factor.
"…Battle?" Qing Xuanling brought a hand to her chin. "No—that's too simplistic. If battle experience alone sufficed, sword cultivators wouldn't be as rare as you say. But it's certainly combat-related…"
Her dark eyes gleamed as she searched for the answer. Elder Zi smiled inwardly. Just as Fourth Elder had said—one of this brat's greatest strengths was thinking things through herself.
'I suppose she's about to discover it…'
Qing Xuanling's eyes brightened after discarding several possibilities. One resonated deeply.
"My mental state…!" She lifted her head abruptly. "Now that I recall—in both moments, my mindset was unique. When I condensed sharp Qi, all I could think was I must cut my enemy. When I created Sword Qi, I held absolute confidence I could cut anything in my path!"
She laughed softly, curiously watching the white sword circling her. With slight difficulty, she coated her fingertip in Sword Qi and touched the sword. Her finger was repelled backward with force.
Elder Zi rolled his eyes—hiding the satisfaction in them. "Correct. The catalyst for becoming a sword cultivator comes from the mind. You need a battle-baptized mental state: absolute determination to cut your enemy, sufficient confidence to cut anything—and above all, long companionship with the sword."
Qing Xuanling nodded in understanding. "I see… Hearing it now, it makes perfect sense. Though… it doesn't sound that difficult, does it? Couldn't we just have a child practice sword from youth, fight constantly, and artificially instill the confidence to cut anything—thereby mass-producing sword cultivators?"
Elder Zi's face went blank.
"…Why is that the first thought that crosses your mind after everything I just said?"