Chapter 4
The afternoon sun shone brightly above, casting long shadows across the small clearing behind the training hall. The gentle wind carried the rustle of leaves and the faint ringing of distant practice weapons. But in this secluded area, two figures stood facing each other quietly.
Liam held his sword in one hand, its blade reflecting the sunlight in a steady gleam. His stance was relaxed yet firm, his breathing even. Across from him stood Edmund, gripping his own sword tightly with both hands. His expression was serious, his usual cheerful grin replaced by focused determination.
Unlike their usual casual sparring sessions, this time they were using real swords — sharp and cold, the kind used by actual cultivators. Still, both of them had agreed beforehand to hold back enough to avoid fatal injuries. It was meant to be a friendly match, though the tension in the air suggested otherwise.
Edmund's eyes never left Liam. "I'll win this time," he said, his tone filled with conviction.
Liam looked at him calmly, expression unreadable. "You've said that every time."
"This time, I mean it!"
Liam sighed softly, lowering his sword slightly as if to invite Edmund to make the first move. "Then stop talking and prove it."
That was all the encouragement Edmund needed.
He stepped forward sharply, the ground beneath his feet shifting as he kicked off. His sword sliced through the air, aimed directly at Liam's shoulder. The movement was fast — faster than the last few times they had sparred. His footwork was cleaner too, showing that he had been practicing diligently.
Liam raised his sword effortlessly, meeting the attack with a smooth block. The blades clashed with a clear metallic ring. Sparks flew briefly before both stepped back at the same time.
Edmund didn't pause for long. He pressed forward again, attacking with a series of quick strikes — left, right, then downward. His movements were aggressive but not reckless, showing that he had refined his form. Each swing carried weight and intention.
Liam, however, handled them easily. His sword moved with simple precision, parrying each strike with minimal motion. Where Edmund's attacks were filled with effort, Liam's defense seemed effortless. He shifted his weight lightly from one foot to the other, every counter measured and efficient.
After a few exchanges, Edmund's breathing began to grow heavier. Sweat formed on his forehead, while Liam still stood calm and steady.
"Still the same as ever," Liam said quietly, deflecting another swing. "You move faster, but you're still too open on your left side."
Edmund grit his teeth. "I'll fix that soon enough!"
He turned his wrist sharply, changing his grip mid-swing. The blade swept horizontally, aiming low this time. Liam stepped back, the edge of the sword just brushing against the hem of his robe. Edmund grinned. "See? I'm improving!"
Liam's eyes narrowed slightly. "Barely."
He moved suddenly, and before Edmund could react, Liam closed the distance between them. His blade flashed upward in a clean arc — a simple motion, no wasted flourish — forcing Edmund to block on instinct. The impact reverberated through Edmund's arms, numbing his hands.
Liam didn't stop there. He twisted his wrist, spun his blade downward, and struck again from another angle. Edmund tried to keep up, but Liam's speed and control were overwhelming. Each swing came at perfect timing, every movement fluid and refined.
Within seconds, Liam had complete control of the match. Edmund's footing began to falter as he tried to block and dodge. The clash of steel filled the clearing, echoing with crisp, rhythmic precision.
Edmund stepped back desperately, panting. "You're… too fast!"
Liam didn't respond. His sword came forward again, forcing Edmund to retreat further. The ground beneath Edmund's foot shifted slightly — a patch of uneven dirt — and his balance wavered.
That was when Liam struck decisively.
He twisted his body, bringing his leg up, and with one smooth motion, kicked Edmund square in the chest.
The impact was clean and solid. Edmund's breath left his lungs in a sharp gasp as he was sent flying backward. He hit the ground hard, rolling once before landing flat on his back. His sword flew a few feet away, landing with a dull thud in the grass.
Liam lowered his leg slowly, sheathing his sword in one fluid motion. He exhaled quietly, looking down at Edmund, who lay on the ground staring up at the sky, chest rising and falling rapidly.
For a few moments, there was only silence — except for Edmund's heavy breathing.
Finally, Edmund let out a strained laugh between breaths. "Ah… I lost… again…" His voice was weak, but there was no frustration in it — only a strange, satisfied tone. "But… I feel like something's different about me now…"
Liam tilted his head slightly, walking closer. Then, after a brief moment of observation, he extended his hand toward Edmund. His voice was calm but approving as he said, "Of course something is different. You've broken through to the intermediate realm of mastery. Your technique has undergone a fundamental change."
Edmund blinked up at him in surprise, his eyes widening slightly. "Oh… so that was it."
Liam gave a faint nod, watching as Edmund reached up and grasped his hand. He pulled him up from the ground with little effort. Edmund stumbled slightly but managed to stand straight, still catching his breath.
As Liam helped him steady himself, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of genuine surprise. He knew, without a doubt, that Edmund didn't possess any kind of system or special ability like his own status panel. His progress came purely from effort, repetition, and natural comprehension. And to break through to a level that took others a month or two — doing it in just a week — that was no small feat.
Liam studied him quietly for a moment. Edmund, still smiling despite his defeat, wiped the sweat from his brow. "Guess all those losses weren't for nothing," he said with a grin.
Liam shook his head slightly. "Seems so. Though you might want to stop letting me kick you every time you lose."
Edmund laughed weakly, rubbing his chest. "I'll try… but no promises."
Liam let out a faint sigh, though there was a small trace of amusement in his expression. He turned toward the main path, gesturing with his head. "Come on. It's almost mealtime."
Edmund brightened immediately, his energy returning as if he hadn't just been knocked to the ground moments ago. "Oh, good! I'm starving!"
Liam rolled his eyes slightly but didn't comment. Together, the two of them began walking down the narrow dirt path that led toward the dining hall. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, and the warm golden light stretched across the sect grounds.
For all his complaints, Liam found himself quietly content. He still preferred peace and quiet, but even he had to admit that sparring with Edmund wasn't entirely unpleasant. It was noisy, yes — but also strangely grounding.
As they walked side by side, Edmund talked cheerfully about how he would surpass Liam "someday soon," and Liam responded with a few uninterested hums, his expression calm as always.
The gentle chatter and the sound of their footsteps faded slowly into the distance.