Chapter Nineteen: Simply Too Pleasant

What others need to practice hundreds or thousands of times to master, the little girl Xiao Bei could perhaps achieve simply by swinging her sword a few times at random. This method of practicing swordsmanship was intoxicating—a rare pleasure. No wonder the little girl loved sword techniques so much.

For her, practicing the sword was entertainment, not arduous cultivation.

A surge of envy rose within, and involuntarily, he controlled the image of the young girl to practice swordplay.

He had no idea how much time had passed, but roughly calculated, he must have practiced the sword hundreds of times.

Xiao Nan felt no fatigue at all; instead, the more he practiced, the more invigorated he became. By the end, he had turned the two sword techniques—Green Silk Twining and Slanting Fine Rain, eighteen forms in total—into instinct, almost forgetting he was still practicing swordplay. It was as if he were running in the winter morning sunlight, his whole body feeling incomparably refreshed.

In that moment, he nearly confused himself—was he Xiao Nan or Xiao Bei?

He was gradually getting used to this female body.

Not good.

Xiao Nan’s heart gave a jolt, and he snapped back to himself. The golden light flickered around him, and the image flashed; his body returned to its original state.

Looking down, the body image had reverted to his own, the golden pattern still dim.

He looked around, but the little girl’s image was nowhere to be found.

The image had vanished.

It must be that the golden energy on that phantom had been exhausted and disappeared.

Xiao Nan felt a tinge of regret; he’d hoped to possess the image a few more times whenever he pleased.

That sensation was simply too enjoyable.

But wait.

He formed his fingers into a sword and made a few gestures... Still at ease, the effortless and natural control lingered within him.

“I have affinity with the sword and sensitivity to vital energy now?”

Even within the misty space, Xiao Nan couldn’t help his heart pounding wildly, his face flushed.

With a thought, he exited the misty realm; light and shadow shifted, and he appeared in his room.

With a swift step, he grabbed the wooden sword on the table and, without thinking, performed “Slanting Fine Rain.”

The sword’s tip traced a hazy trail, slashing diagonally, and a faint dampness seemed to rise in his heart.

Spring rain moistens silently, slipping into the night on the wind.

To kill as silently as grass is cut.

Good sword, good sword technique.

In that moment, he felt as if he were drinking nectar, his body fitting perfectly, moving with utmost natural ease.

The sword in his hand seemed to breathe—so natural that even with his eyes closed, he could sense the sword’s edge disturbing the air.

“What if I use the basic sword forms?”

Suppressing his delight, Xiao Nan recalled the thirteen basic sword moves he practiced at school—thrust, sweep, chop, slash, point, flick...

Mind and intent aligned, the sword tip danced like a sprite, executing the basic thirteen sword maneuvers.

First, a bow-step thrust, followed by a side-step diagonal slash...

A shifting step for an upward sweep, then a spinning body for a backward chop.

Each move was fluid and natural, none of the awkwardness or rigidity from his previous practice of the basic forms.

He felt every motion was effortless, flowing as naturally as water.

Even more remarkably, his whole body’s strength coalesced, converging on the blade, making the air whistle faintly with each thrust.

Xiao Nan was overjoyed.

Though this body was only somewhat stronger than an ordinary person, with a weapon in hand, his attack power was formidable.

He finally had some self-defense capability.

“If I had a steel sword in my hand now, and I concentrated my blood and breath, unleashing full body power... Facing that leader of the blood cult, I’d at least manage a couple of moves.”

He knew that, truly facing such a master, the likely outcome was his sword breaking and himself sent flying, but it couldn’t dampen his joy.

This birthmark-mirror was truly formidable—it could copy others’ talents and bestow them upon himself. Such an ability bordered on the miraculous.

The most important thing wasn’t his current combat strength, but future growth.

With a powerful talent gained, it was obvious how much easier future cultivation and battles would be.

“I just don’t know what triggers it. Does it require energy consumption—the divine golden light? That much is certain.

But why, facing Miss Qin and Gu Junwu, did I not gain any image? Nor did I get anything from Zhang Yi.

Yet with the little girl, the golden image appeared, giving me such enormous benefit?”

What hidden mechanism was at play? Xiao Nan couldn’t figure it out.

There could be many reasons...

Anyway, with about half the golden energy remaining, he could slowly explore and eventually discover the pattern.

The only plausible guess now was that Xiao Bei and he shared a blood connection.

If it required blood kinship, the function would be of little use.

Aside from his father Xiao Zhenbei, missing or dead in another world, his only family in this world was his mother and sister.

His sister’s talent was already copied.

His mother didn’t practice martial arts...

He’d heard she came from a scholarly family—could literary skill be considered a talent?

After pondering awhile, he couldn’t be sure and set it aside. Remembering the thrill of practicing sword in the misty space, he tightened his grip and, smiling, picked up the wooden sword.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the courtyard.

Here, the scent of grass and gentle breeze made it an ideal place to practice swordsmanship.

After a while, Xiao Nan felt increasingly exhilarated, utterly immersed, as time slipped by until he nearly forgot everything else.

The wooden sword became like spring wind and fine rain. At first, his movements were slow, deliberate, each form distinct.

Later, he simply waved it freely, no longer bound by any particular move...

It appeared to be basic sword forms, yet there was a unique way of channeling power.

If anyone saw him, they’d find it strange—the ebony sword, though swung swiftly and its blade flickering, made absolutely no sound.

It was as if the lone figure practicing in the corner of the courtyard was a phantom.

“Excellent, truly excellent.”

Xiao Nan stopped, sweat beading on his brow, heart still echoing with lingering sword resonance, breathing deeply, thinking that he finally understood the gap between genius and ordinary people.

Compared to his sister, his original instinctive grasp of swordsmanship, his affinity for vital energy, simply weren’t on the same level.

People often say, if you lack talent, make up for it with hard work.

In reality, for ordinary people, focusing and working hard on a single thing is itself difficult.

Long periods without progress sap enthusiasm.

Simply put, practicing sword or martial arts brings no joy, only hardship.

Thus, efficiency is low, progress negligible.

Of course, there are those who treat hardship as fortune—the more pain, the more pleasure!

Masochists.

Even if they view suffering as nothing, with nerves of steel and persistence, achievement is still hard—the upper limit is clear.

But those with talent—in any era, Xiao Nan felt they were simply playing with cheat codes.

Like his sister’s affinity for the sword, practicing was pure enjoyment.

You could say she was having fun, or even playing a game.

But this didn’t mean her cultivation lacked value; in joy, progress was even swifter.

Emotion is the best catalyst for cultivation, sparking inspiration and banishing fatigue.

Efficiency soared beyond imagination.

Xiao Nan had always only half-understood the basic thirteen sword forms, never grasping the mechanics of power, nor how to be precise and swift.

Now, he didn’t need to analyze or summarize; he simply knew instinctively how it worked.

From the sword’s angle, the resistance of the wind, to the path of the blade, he understood it all.

How to swing the sword with the shortest distance, how to mobilize every ounce of strength in arm, fingers, wrist—all controlled instinctively.

This wasn’t doing math problems, but music—no need to think or deduce.

If you understand, you simply do; if not, even the most beautiful music is noise to your ears.