Story 8 - Tribulation Trepidations (1 ?)
[Author's note: Due to the author’s poor health, this part is, unfortunately, shorter and hasn’t been content edited, so so areas may change later. It has been line-edited to the best of the sick author's ability.]
As we faced each other on the training grounds, I eyed Sword Master Salamander’s classic stance. It was perfect for this ti period.
But it wasn’t perfect for Salamander.
With the ease of motion from hundreds of years of practice, I placed my feet in the form that he taught . The one he’d wished he’d known about when he was younger.
He frowned. “The way you hold yourself is too loose.”
I almost snorted. “Are you sure that it’s my stance that’s too loose and not yours that’s too stiff?”
“Impossible.”
Muahahaha.
Months after we solved the plague and the crab-mission-that-we-don’t-talk-about, our schedules all finally aligned enough that I could ‘request so pointers’ from my friend.
Basically, he thought he was going to give his Little Martial Aunt so advice — instead, I was here to kick him onto the right path... with my sword.
Giving him this stance was part of that.
Unfortunately, the realizations he needed to achieve from this stance were sothing I couldn’t tell him. He needed to figure it out on his own before he reached Nascent Soul.
Because there was more to it than simply holding one’s limbs casually and breathing a certain way. It had to do with the truths of the universe. Whether he could decipher them or not would be up to him and his luck.
I broke my stance and rested the flat of my blade against my shoulder like a gangster. “How about we make a bet?”
He raised an eyebrow.
Then we both stepped to the side to let Little Spring fly past.
The kid’s body, which had grown a lot in the past few months, hit a massive egg-shaped boulder in the training ground. With a crack, it split in half.
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