The expansion of the Order of the Jade Dawn, with its new members Chen Xiu, Zhao Feng, and Lin Tao, had brought a surge of energy to Li Wei's cultivation, but the undercurrent of discord within the sect weighed on him. The hidden valley, with its shimmering pool, ancient tree, and glowing blossoms, remained his sanctuary, its mystical aura amplifying the warmth in his dantian—a warmth he believed was his nascent Golden Core, now nurturing a fledgling Nascent Soul. Azure Dragon, his scruffy spirit beast, dozed by the stone altar, a quiet anchor amidst the valley's whispers. The scroll, its bamboo slats worn from constant handling, continued to guide him, its latest passage unveiling a new challenge: "The Heavenly Sword Art, where the cultivator wields qi as a blade, cutting through mortal limits to touch the divine."
In the cultivation novels Li Wei had devoured in Beijing, sword arts were the pinnacle of a cultivator's prowess, blending physical skill with spiritual power to unleash devastating strikes. The scroll's description was more poetic but equally compelling: "Channel the qi through the blade, let intent guide the edge, and sever the chains of the mundane." It described forms that harmonized body and spirit, requiring precision and focus. Li Wei's "Star Blade," a sharpened branch he'd imbued with his qi during his imagined "clan warfare," was a crude tool, but he saw it as a worthy vessel for this art. His body, weakened by fasting, alchemical mishaps, and relentless trials, protested, but his spirit burned with determination to master this technique.
Li Wei prepared with reverence, treating the valley as a sacred dojo. He cleared a space near the pool, where the mist swirled like a living partner, and reinforced his altar with fresh stones, placing the scroll, jade slip, and stolen booklet at its center. The wilted "Spirit Root Herbs" were gone, but he arranged glowing blossoms from the ancient tree as a substitute, their faint light a ward against doubt. Azure Dragon watched, tail wagging, as Li Wei practiced basic swings with the Star Blade, its weight familiar but unwieldy. The scroll's diagrams depicted flowing forms—Crane Ascends to Heaven, Dragon Slashes the Void—and Li Wei memorized them, visualizing his qi flowing from his dantian to the blade's tip.
At dawn, when the valley glowed with golden light, Li Wei began. He stood by the pool, the Star Blade in hand, and chanted the scroll's incantations, their rhythmic tones blending with the valley's whispers. He moved through the forms, his movements slow and deliberate, focusing on his dantian's warmth. The scroll instructed him to "infuse the blade with intent," so he visualized his qi as a radiant stream, flowing through his arms and into the Star Blade. Each swing felt heavier, as if the air resisted, but he pressed on, imagining his strikes cutting through invisible foes—doubts, rivals, the mortal world itself.
Hours passed, his muscles aching, his breath ragged. The warmth in his dantian surged, and he swore he saw faint sparks trailing the Star Blade, like embers in the mist. But the forms were demanding, and his weakened body faltered. During a particularly ambitious swing—Phoenix Pierces the Sky—he stumbled, the Star Blade catching on a root, sending a splinter into his palm. Pain seared through his hand, blood dripping onto the grass, but Li Wei saw it as a lesson. The scroll had warned that "pain sharpens the spirit," and he gritted his teeth, wrapping his hand in a strip of cloth torn from his shirt. "Pain is illusion," he muttered, resuming the forms with renewed focus.
By dusk, Li Wei's movements were smoother, his qi flowing more freely. He practiced under the ancient tree, its blossoms glowing like stars, and felt a harmony he hadn't known before. One swing—Dragon Slashes the Void—felt perfect, the Star Blade slicing through the air with a faint hum, as if the valley itself resonated with his intent. Azure Dragon barked, startled, and Li Wei laughed, convinced he'd touched the Heavenly Sword Art's essence. He scribbled in his notebook: "Heavenly Sword Art begun. Qi flows through blade. Pain tempers resolve. Progress made."
During the next video call with the Order of the Jade Dawn, Li Wei shared a video of his forms, filmed with his phone propped against a rock. Zhang Wei, eyes wide, praised the "spiritual energy" in his movements, while Liu Mei noted the grace but urged him to heal his hand. Chen Xiu, the new member, suggested visualizing a "sword aura," while Zhao Feng offered martial arts tips to refine his stance. Lin Tao, reserved but intrigued, shared a scan of his family scroll, which mentioned a similar technique. The sect's support bolstered Li Wei, though their debates—Chen Xiu's mysticism clashing with Zhao Feng's pragmatism—hinted at lingering tensions.
As night fell, Li Wei sat by the altar, the Star Blade across his lap, Azure Dragon snoring softly. The scroll and jade slip glowed faintly in the moonlight, their warmth mirroring his own. The Heavenly Sword Art was a step toward wielding his qi as a true cultivator, cutting through the mortal limits that bound him. The scroll promised greater mastery, but also greater trials. With the valley's energy, his sect's faith, and Azure Dragon's loyalty, Li Wei felt ready, his bloodied hand a badge of his unyielding pursuit of immortality.