Changsun Jing was momentarily taken aback, then his face lit up with joy. He drew his long saber, swung it toward the big tree in the courtyard, and the saber stroke was fierce and filled with a brutal, bloodthirsty aura, clearly a technique forged in the crucible of real battle.
Stroke after stroke, growing fiercer and fiercer, it seemed as though a battlefield filled with cries of war and thick with blood and dust had unfolded within the narrow space.
The Tiger Daoist watched with a slightly stunned expression, filled with admiration. Lately, why did he keep encountering such monstrous talents? Meng Qi’s power had risen beyond his expectations, making even astonishment feel routine. Changsun Jing was also quite young and had only started martial arts a few years ago, yet his Yuan Qi was refined, and his saber technique had already developed a unique style.
No wonder he boasted about his saber talent…
Meng Qi nodded slightly. The saber technique was passable, though due to the lack of a master’s guidance and profound saber methods, it lacked refinement, variation, and had many flaws. However, the coordination between the moves and the momentum was indeed fierce and sharp.
Suddenly, Changsun Jing’s saber stroke lightened, shifting from fierce to gentle—a subtle flick akin to the most distinctive Confucian general amidst ten thousand troops.
Not bad, he even understands the balance of softness and hardness… Meng Qi silently praised again.
After finishing his demonstration, Changsun Jing sheathed his saber. Though appearing calm, he couldn’t help stealing glances at Meng Qi. “I beg Master Meng for your guidance.”
“This stroke holds back slightly.” Meng Qi swung the saber still in its sheath, exuding the same brutal bloodthirstiness and fierce might. Yet due to the technique and force being slightly restrained inwardly, it gained a sense of weight, as if thousands of troops surged wave after wave, unstoppable. Changsun Jing, watching from the side, almost felt his breath catch.
Meng Qi explained while demonstrating, pointing out twenty-seven areas in Changsun Jing’s saber technique that needed modification. Some were due to a weak foundation, others revealed by the Breaking Saber Form.
Changsun Jing’s eyes lit up as he pondered deeply, finally bowing with folded hands. “Thank you, Master Meng, for your guidance. I never realized my Blood-Slaughtering Saber Technique could be this powerful!”
“You possess a good talent for the saber, but your foundation is weak. While this frees you from constraints and allows boundless imagination, preventing your technique from becoming rigid and outdated, it also inevitably leads to an unstable base and careless details.”
Meng Qi, adopting the tone of a senior martial artist, offered his guidance succinctly.
Changsun Jing, deep in thought, said, “I have looked for basic saber manuals before, but found none stronger than my Blood-Slaughtering Saber Technique…”
Meng Qi slid the saber back into his waistband, speaking coldly and indifferently, “Sometimes saber techniques and sword styles resemble the game of Go. There are set patterns in Go, and similarly, there are standard moves in saber and sword techniques. Often, when you strike with a saber, I can predict your next move and prepare accordingly. At this stage, the practitioner mainly relies on memorization and familiarity, able to handle common techniques. As one progresses further, one can freely combine moves, creating versatile variations and anticipating the opponent’s moves to achieve victory.”
“However, all techniques are composed of the most fundamental actions—slashes, cuts, chops, and swings. These have been refined through countless trials, revealing their strengths and taboos, all clearly outlined in basic saber manuals.”
“You skipped the foundational discipline, unaware of these taboos, retracing the path of trial and error, creating techniques that inevitably contain many flaws. To a master, such a saber technique is full of holes, easily exploitable.”
“No wonder I’ve recently felt my saber technique hitting a bottleneck, unable to improve further…” Changsun Jing exclaimed in realization.
Meng Qi, hands clasped behind his back, gazed at the tree shedding its dry leaves. “Once you thoroughly understand the variations of techniques, you begin to explore the few unchanging principles hidden within the myriad changes. From complexity to simplicity. The more of these unchanging principles you grasp, the more effortlessly you can create variations, shedding unnecessary constraints to fully express the technique’s potential. Then, from simplicity, you return to complexity.”
“These two aspects complement each other and must not be neglected. Without the insight gained from simplifying complexity, what foundation do you have for deeper complexity? And without further comprehension of saber and sword techniques through this complexity, how can you achieve deeper simplification?”
Changsun Jing listened intently, as it was the first time anyone had explained such profound concepts to him. The Tiger Daoist also became fully attentive, feeling that Meng Qi’s few words had concisely summarized insights he had pondered for years. What followed seemed to lift a veil from his eyes, giving him a fresh perspective on sword techniques.
“Master Meng,” Changsun Jing asked curiously, “after going from complexity to simplicity and back to complexity, what levels can one achieve?”
Meng Qi barely suppressed a smile, maintaining his cold expression. “Show me your Blood-Slaughtering Saber Technique again.”
Changsun Jing, puzzled, drew his saber once more and slashed down fiercely and powerfully.
“Stab at the right wrist,” Meng Qi said, quickening his pace.
Changsun Jing obeyed, shifting his technique from fierce to fluid, his downward slash transforming into a diagonal arc.
“Upward cut,” Meng Qi simply stated.
Changsun Jing hesitated slightly. In his mind, a vivid combat scene emerged: his opponent’s sword cut upward, low to high, perfectly evading his saber and threatening his chest and abdomen.
He sidestepped, his saber sweeping horizontally, filled with ruthless intensity, as if ready to die together with his foe.
“Slash the left leg,” Meng Qi said this time with three words.
Changsun Jing’s expression changed slightly. If his opponent’s sword targeted his left leg, it would strike before his own slash could fully unfold, avoiding the mutual destruction.
After a moment of thought, he changed tactics again.
Thus, one demonstrated the saber technique while the other, Meng Qi, used his words as a sword, directly pointing out flaws. The Tiger Daoist, Batu, and Ruan Yushu watched in silence.
Gradually, Changsun Jing’s thinking time grew longer, each saber stroke requiring several breaths between them. In actual combat, he would have been defeated long ago. Yet Meng Qi merely demonstrated without urging him.
After a while, Changsun Jing sighed, sheathing his saber. “Master Meng, I concede defeat.”
His forehead was drenched in sweat, his spirit weary, more exhausted than after a real battle.
With admiration and hope in his eyes, he said, “So this is the realm of simplifying complexity. I feel as though my saber technique, in your eyes, has been reduced to its simplest elements, leaving no secrets. Even my next move is predictable to you.”
“After achieving complexity from simplicity, the variations become endless, filled with traps and deceptions that are hard to distinguish. Facing such swordplay feels like being ensnared in an inescapable net. As for which is stronger between simplicity and complexity, it depends on whose cultivation is deeper and whose realm is higher.”
Meng Qi did not elaborate further on complexity simplified but instead said, “When facing an opponent who thoroughly understands the few unchanging principles of sword or saber techniques, you can completely violate those principles with your moves. To them, this will seem illogical and unpredictable, meaning they cannot foresee your next action. This is called ‘formless.'”
As long as one is still wielding a sword or saber, regardless of how, there are still forms; it is not absolutely formless.
“Formless…” Changsun Jing and the Tiger Daoist both pondered the concept thoughtfully.
“To achieve ‘formless,’ one must first grasp the few unchanging principles hidden within techniques. Otherwise, random and chaotic moves are just childish flailing, which won’t deceive the enemy at all; a single move can take you down. Moreover, it’s easy to unconsciously fall into those unchanging patterns, still allowing the opponent to see through and anticipate your moves.” Meng Qi walked to the tree, his tone cold and his back deep and profound.
“What comes after ‘formless’?” Changsun Jing boldly asked.
Meng Qi wasn’t entirely sure himself. Using this as an opportunity to organize his thoughts, he slowly continued, “Returning to ‘form,’ one completely masters the unchanging principles and essence within infinite variations. Every move, effortlessly executed, becomes a perfect technique. It might appear ancient and simple, yet profoundly skillful; or it might be complex, luring the opponent into a trap; or it might seem ‘formless,’ catching the opponent off guard. To such a master, the concept of ‘formless’ loses its meaning—moves are only judged by their effectiveness.”
“What comes after that?” Changsun Jing was captivated.
“After that?” Meng Qi’s voice became reflective. “The sword in one’s heart. Whether one wields a sword or forgets it, it’s ultimately about refining the mind, resonating with one’s own sword, and connecting with heaven and earth. Techniques begin to approach the essence, the mysteries of the universe. But in the end, one must return to the sword’s essence, confronting those fundamental questions: What is the sword? Why the sword? What role does it play in one’s life and martial cultivation? And what does it represent within the laws and principles of the universe? Different people have different answers, marking the beginning of one’s own sword path.”
“Once one steps forward, the inner and outer worlds converge, the sword harmonizes with nature. When a single strike is made, the principles are inherent. It can cleave clouds above and split the underworld below. High mountains cannot block it; the vast sea cannot conceal it!”
Although the difficulty of Half-Step Exo-Scenery surpasses that of Exo-Scenery itself, since opening the Life-and-Death Mysterious Gate and bridging the Bridge of Heaven and Earth is closely tied to the mysterious and perilous Third Eye, a slight misstep could turn one into a fool or lead to immediate death. It also requires a certain level of mental fortitude and insight. However, Exo-Scenery is not without its challenges.
It demands mental fortitude and is closely related to one’s insight into heaven and earth. With good cultivation methods and resources, the requirements for mental state and insight are relatively low. However, if one is like the martial artists in this world, lacking methods to open the Third Eye and only able to skirt the edges like the Phantom Transformation Technique, and without detailed cultivation methods for the convergence of inner and outer worlds, success would require an exceptionally high level of mental state and natural insight, nearly equivalent to the state of a true Exo-Scenery practitioner. Only then could one break through the Mysterious Gate, achieving the convergence of inner and outer worlds, stepping from the Nine Orifices into Exo-Scenery.
Therefore, the Sword Emperor’s mental and insight level was clearly higher than his physical cultivation and actual combat strength.
Changsun Jing, Batu, and the Tiger Daoist were all entranced, whether true or not, Master Meng had at least painted a bright and grand picture for them, a picture that made perfect sense!
“Perhaps after that, one must repeat this process again: techniques following the laws of heaven and earth, formless moves that defy those laws, and the effortless mastery of complete freedom…” Meng Qi mused freely, though he himself knew little about Exo-Scenery.
“There’s no need to dwell on what comes after. I’m merely speaking off the cuff. Do you understand what I’ve said so far?” Meng Qi turned around and asked calmly.
Changsun Jing solemnly bowed. “I will re-study the basic saber manuals. Master Meng, your words have enlightened me, giving me profound insight. Whatever you ask of me in the future, I will not hesitate to comply.”
Coming from a beggar, this was a rare display of courtesy.
“When your saber technique reaches a certain level, I will spar with you,” Meng Qi thought with a smile. He hoped that by then, he would have also mastered the essence of the Celestial Saber.
The Sword Emperor’s guidance had benefited Meng Qi greatly, which was why he felt inclined to offer Changsun Jing some advice.
Since the previous incident had caused quite a commotion, Meng Qi believed the National Preceptor, Sword Emperor, and Demon Empress had all noticed. With them keeping each other in check, there should be no trouble tonight.
This was also Lu Guan’s assessment, which is why he felt confident in letting them meet the Right Chancellor the next day to discuss matters.
Returning to his courtyard and entering the living room, Meng Qi finally no longer had to maintain his cold demeanor. He stretched, rubbed his face, and said to Ruan Yushu, “I’ve been thinking about what excuse to use tomorrow to meet the Third Prince, but now I don’t have to worry. Tomorrow, I will visit each of the four princes in turn and observe their characters and attitudes toward the Western barbarians.”
“Mmm.” Ruan Yushu, holding her ancient zither, walked toward her own quarters.
Meng Qi looked puzzled. “Aren’t you curious what excuse I’ll use?”
“Anyway, I’m not going.” Ruan Yushu left with a light, drifting remark.
“Hehe…” Meng Qi “laughed.”
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