Yan Mo gripped his sword tightly, he had used a steel sword many times in his dreamscape before, but even though he knew it was just a dream, he could still feel pressure exhuming from the opponent before him.
He gripped the handle even tighter, he could feel that this was the peak of comprehensible strength to him, somebody close yet still so far away. He would put his month of hard work and persistence into this battle.
The swordsman made no move, no sound, he just was. Not even an effect of the dreamscape, this is how the swordsman would be in real life.
Yan Mo decided to take the advantage, a surge of his 6th Layer of Body Tempering Qi coursing through his body. He launched straight towards the swordsman, using his most effective offensive strategy, a series of rapid, aggressive slashes designed to overwhelm the opponent.
His first strike, a powerful horizontal sweep, cut through the air with intent. He expected resistance, a clash of steel, maybe even a desperate block. Instead, the swordsman just wasn't there. A subtle shift, a mere rotation of the hips, and Yan Mo's blade sliced through empty space.
Yan Mo stumbled, his wild swing threw him off course and he crashed on the ground. When he looked up, he saw a blade stop inches from his neck. He grumbled, waving his hand and restarting the dreamscape and the fight.
He rushed forward again, an aggressive piercing attack that wouldn't throw him off balance from a miss. The swordsman easily shifted out the way and Yan Mo felt a pain at his side.
It wasn't a full power strike, more akin to a quick, sharp sting at Yan Mo's forearm of his dominant arm. It was a sting that made Yan Mo realize a new truth, raw power and anger wouldn't win out in this battle. It wasn't like Han Bao where he relied on his physique, this was finesse, this was pure sword skill. A wall Yan Mo hadn't expected even after seeing him fight.
His initial excitement only amplified. He gritted his teeth but his eyes were lit up in fire.
There was a new goal for Yan Mo, it wasn't to win, no, it was just to land a single hit.
Yan Mo adjusted his stance, there was a hot ember in his gut. His usual approach was failing spectacularly, it made him feel like he was a toddle whose father was toying with. He needed to stop trying to brute force it. He remembered the swordsman's effortless sidesteps, the way he used movement to create better openings.
If he couldn't overpower the swordsman's technique, then maybe he could outlast it. He adopted a wider, more stable base and a more defensive stance. He started parrying the swordsman's light, probing swings. Each deflection sent a jolt up his arm. Even when Yan Mo's formation could only make the swordsman's cultivation at the 6th layer, he had recreated his physical prowess perfectly.
For what felt like an eternity, or even might have been, the void became a dance of steel. Yan Mo counted every exchange in his head, attempting to find a pattern, a rhythm in the chaos.
Ten…twenty…thirty…his arms burned, sweat trickled down his brow despite the dreamscape's cool air. Yan Mo focused on every movement, trying to dissect the swordsman before him.
There! A slight drop of the shoulder before a committed thrust. A barely perceptible shift of the feet before a feint. These were the details, the secrets of the swordsman's art.
Yan Mo began to anticipate, not with his mind, but with an in-born instinct from the countless exchanges. He'd feint left, drawing out the swordsman's signature sidestep, then pivot, attempting to catch him in the move. It worked, partially, he'd barely nick the swordsman's robe or catch the slightest edge of his sword, but it was immediately followed up with a blindingly fast counter that forced Yan Mo back.
Forty exchanges. Fifty. Yan Mo was bleeding stamina, his Qi reserves were starting to feel the strain, even in the dreamscape where he had practically infinite Qi. But this wasn't a physical fight, it was more like a game of chess. The swordsman's unwavering composure was a constant pressure, a constant judgement of Yan Mo's efforts.
But he was still learning, slowly. Each parry, each near-miss, was a lesson. He was slowly deconstructing the swordsman's movements. He understood the swordsman wasn't just skilled, he was efficient, every movement was one thought tens of exchanges back, all to better his already outstanding position.
Sixty exchanges, then seventy. Yan Mo felt a shift. He saw an opening, not a grand one, but just a sliver. The swordsman executed a fluid sidestep, but one that, for just a fraction of a second, put his weight a sliver too forward.
Yan Mo didn't hesitate. He wouldn't overpower it, but flow with it. Instead of a straightforward lunge, he used the swordsman's slight movement against him. He dropped his shoulder, mirroring the swordsman's slight tell, and executed a swift, low sweep, not to strike, but disorient him.
See Yan Mo's greatest talent, besides his dreamscape, was his ability to learn and adapt! He learned the way his opponent would synergize all his movements and began moving similarly
The swordsman's eyes, composed, steady eyes, flickered. He couldn't dodge this, it was too low, too fast, timed almost perfectly with his own movements. His blade came down, not to cut, but to intercept. But Yan Mo had anticipated this too.
As their blades met in a clash, Yan Mo didn't just push forward, he twisted it, redirecting the swordsman's blade just enough. It was a move he'd never practiced, but one that came naturally.
In that sliver of an instant, Yan Mo's blade was mere inches from the body of the swordsman, finally, he would hit the swordsman a single time after literal weeks of fighting!
Then, he felt himself stumble. The swordsman revealed a second ace up his sleeve. Yan Mo learned how to overcome his sidestep, forcing him to reveal a new trick.
Yan Mo felt his entire body shift and be redirected to the ground. He hit the 'ground' of the void with his face first, feeling his phantom nose break and several teeth shatter. When he looked up, he saw the blade of the swordsman by his neck, he admitted defeat.
He slowly sat up, harshly feeling the pain in his face. A slow smile spread across his face.
This was the five hundredth fight. Five hundred times he had faced this opponent, each engagement lasting tens, sometimes hundreds, of exchanges. Five hundred defeats, each one a lesson etched into his body. But today… today was different. He had landed a clean hit. Not on the swordsman, but on his sword. He had forced the reveal of a technique, and his blade had sung true against the master's.
He wasn't discouraged, instead, he felt triumph. It was a feeble victory, but it was a victory in the end. It was a personal milestone, a bridge he had finally managed to gap. And not through brute force either, but through understanding and a perfectly timed, precise, near-perfectly executed strike. It wasn't like the fight with Han Bao, where it was a proof of willpower. This fight was a proof of technique, one that again made him realize. The path ahead was long, but for the first time, Yan Mo felt like he was truly walking on the road of mastery.
He chuckled, mentally timing how long he had been in there. Was it eight? No, nine. Nine straight weeks of fighting against a single opponent. He still wasn't sure how dilated the time inside was compared to the outside, but he still aged mentally. Nearly two and a half months of fighting, he had only really been on the path of cultivation for a month!
Slowly, he exited the dreamscape, the void around him fading into shabby, wooden planks. He woke up in his dorm room, feeling the hunger in his gut. It was bad, but not as bad as when he slept for three straight days.
He shook his head, laughing. There was so much to learn, so much to discover, so much to fight. The hunger wasn't bad, he can still fight with it, and fight with it he will.
But first, when he had felt the wave of hunger wash over him, he also felt something else. A subtle feeling within his Dantian, like it had evolved or changed somehow. Then he noticed it, he had advanced.
From the 6th Layer of Body Tempering to the 7th. That's been 3 layers in a month of non-dream time, he's surprised he hadn't yet been noticed by some kind of wandering master and be pampered for his genius talent.
Ah, but to be entirely fair, he likely wasn't the top tier talent of the sect, maybe not even the outer sect as a whole. The world was big and wide, he was just a small fish in a tiny pond.
He strengthened his determination, grabbing his training sword and his newly bought sword. He wouldn't use it yet, he couldn't in spars anyhow, but he definitely needed to lay out some time to explore the mystery behind it.
But for now, he needed to focus on his sect rankings. He was only a measly rank 640 and he wasn't happy with it. After an advancement and 9 weeks of skills training with the best mentor he's ever had, he guessed he could easily rank higher.
And it was proven true, after countless fights that Yan Mo didn't even note for how boring they were, he had reached the top three. Hundred. His cultivation hadn't changed, only his skill, but that was enough to let him leap three hundred, and then some, ranks. He was solidly at #316.
9 weeks of fighting made his fighting style very similar to the swordsman's, even if inferior. He learnt how to do the signature sidestep, a move he decided to call the, 'Ghost Step' technique and his movement were more refined.
He learnt from Liu Mei that only two days had passed last they talked, which made Yan Mo laugh loudly, only causing Liu Mei to be more confused. Couldn't he count the days himself? Don't tell me slept for two straight days?!
No, that couldn't be it, Liu Mei felt something…deeper within him. He sounded different, even if nothing was different, did that make sense? Yan Mo just felt older, more wise. Battle-wise, she couldn't imagine Yan Mo having more wisdom than an adolescent child.
She did wonder why Yan Mo was so special. It had only been a month since he'd gotten here, as far as she knew. And only a couple days since his fight with Han Bao, yet it felt like his strength had been increased twofold. How did he train? She was envious, if she could train medicine at his speed, she's surely become a sect-wide renowned healer, maybe even reaching her hands into alchemy.
Her daydreaming was quickly broken as she saw a familiar figure on the other side of the training grounds. A slightly disheveled kid around 15 or 16 years of age, with light blue hair and two swords on his back. As he walked closer, Yan Mo saw him clearly as well.
He was shorter than Yan Mo, but only by a few inches. They gazed at each other, staring daggers and felt each other sizing the other one up. Liu Mei broke it up however, jumping up and onto the newcomer, nearly toppling him over.
"Brother!" She exclaimed, causing Yan Mo to make an 'Oh!' Sound. He remembered her talk about his brother before, Liu Pen? Or was it Liu Shen?
"Oh, right," Liu Mei said, standing up straight and in between Yan Mo and her brother, "Yan Mo, meet my brother Liu Ren, he had just come back from a hunting trip to the mountains."
"No, not the mountains, just deep into the forest. I got close to the mountain base though," he smiled, his voice was young, if that made sense. His eyes locked with Yan Mo's a second time, both properly analyzing each other again.
"Nice to meet you," Yan Mo broke the momentary silence, bowing lightly, which Liu Ren returned. Despite being younger, Liu Ren was a layer of cultivation higher, and Yan Mo didn't hesitate to ask.
"I sense you're powerful, what rank are you? Would you want to fight?"
Liu Ren seemed startled, he had never met a man as straightforward as him, only causing him to chuckle, "I'm rank 540, but I haven't sparred in a while, been gone for a long time. As for fighting, I would love to-"
Yan Mo's eyes lit up with excitement, which Liu Ren noticed and quickly shut down, "But I can't."
"Eh?" Yan Mo was startled, what is it with the Liu Family? The only rejections to fight he had ever gotten were from Liu Mei and now Liu Ren.
"Is it to do with your escorting task?" Liu Mei asked, knowing he still had a task left to do.
"Partially," he nodded, "But I have to go and cancel it, my master had told me to do something els-" He stopped himself, seeing an opportunity.
"Brother Mo, you're not busy for the next two or so weeks right?" Liu Ren asked, and Yan Mo could only shrug as a response. He'd planned on training and analyzing his new sword, but it wasn't like he was tight on time.
"How about this? You take the escorting task and subsequent rewards from me, and if you do it successfully, I'll duel you! It's a win-win, especially since canceling a task gives you quite the bit of infamy at the Task Hall," Liu Ren chuckled, reminiscing over when all the eyes in the hall stabbed daggers into him the moment he canceled a task he forgot he even took. Not the most pleasant thing ever.
"Oh, I guess-"