Fairies Are Fierce

Chapter 21: Fourteen Years of Skill

Clueless?

Wu Qingwan was taken aback. She thought Zuo Lingquan was joking. After a moment of eye contact, she confirmed that his expression was genuine and asked in surprise, "Then how did you defeat Jiang Yi?"

Zuo Lingquan spread his hands and said, "I started practicing swordsmanship at the age of three. I practice a thousand sword strikes every day, and I have been practicing for fourteen years. My martial arts skills are not bad. Although practitioners can enhance their killing power by borrowing the power of heaven and earth, they cannot borrow experience and skills. The princess has always been closed off and unable to defeat me, which is normal."

Wu Qingwan looked skeptical and clearly didn't believe it.

Cultivators below the Spirit Valley realm are all in the Qi Refining stage, focusing on nurturing their meridians and acupoints. They indeed do not possess the power of Spirit Ascension, such as moving mountains or flying through the sky. However, they are still far from ordinary people.

Jiang Yi has already stabilized her position in the fifth stage of Qi Refining, the "Purple Palace." Even without using any techniques, she can jump over twenty feet high and strike with hundreds of pounds of force with a single sword strike. Moreover, she has enduring stamina and can continue striking for nearly half an hour.

There is a saying in the martial world that "one force can overcome ten." How can ordinary warriors who only focus on body refinement compete with that?

Wu Qingwan frowned and pondered for a long time, still not believing that Zuo Lingquan was "clueless." She stood up from the stone platform and stood on the open stone terrace next to the waterfall, saying, "You can use all your strength against me. There's no need to hold back. I need to determine your true level before I can arrange your training direction. I don't think you want to start like those six or seven-year-old kids, collecting herbs and catching bugs, right?"

Zuo Lingquan knew that Wu Qingwan must be a master, and he naturally admired that. He stood up, held his sword, and stood ten steps away, raising his hand in a fist salute. "Thank you, Senior Wu, for your guidance. However, I have to say in advance. My sword is fast, and I have never encountered an opponent who can last more than one exchange. If I go all out, I might not be able to hold back. Senior Wu, please don't underestimate me."

Wu Qingwan heard the concern in his words and blinked her eyes, unable to help but laugh. "Young friend, I am one of the elders of the Qihuang Valley's fifth house. I rank fifth in terms of combat power in the Qihuang Valley and top ten in the entire Great Dan Dynasty. Are you worried about my safety?"

"Uh..."

Zuo Lingquan was indeed proud, but not to the extent of worrying about this. After nodding apologetically, he raised his hand and gripped the sword hilt.

As the setting sun slanted westward, the stone terrace next to the roaring waterfall suddenly fell silent.

The mountain wind stirred Zuo Lingquan's black long hair, and his robe fluttered in the wind. Holding the sword hilt, he remained motionless.

Wu Qingwan had her hands folded at her waist, standing elegantly. But seeing Zuo Lingquan's posture, she felt slightly surprised.

During their previous conversation, Zuo Lingquan seemed knowledgeable and completely devoid of any sharpness.

But at this moment, the Zuo Lingquan in front of her seemed like a completely different person.

He stood like an ancient tree that had stood on the mountaintop for a thousand years, unaffected by the raging wind.

His eyes were as sharp as a sword, and the sharpness emanating from his sword made Wu Qingwan feel uncomfortable.

Wu Qingwan couldn't sense any aura emanating from Zuo Lingquan's body, but she could truly feel the penetrating power of his sharpness.

She couldn't understand how such a young junior could display such a momentum in front of her. If it were someone with less composure, they would probably want to avoid his sharpness just by looking into his eyes.

Compared to Wu Qingwan's astonishment, Zuo Lingquan on the other side didn't have so many thoughts.

Because he had no distractions in his mind!

Since Zuo Lingquan learned that there were experts in this world who could fly and disappear, he had made up his mind to go to the mountaintop and see the scenery he had never seen before.

If there was no way to enter the path of cultivation, then he would cultivate on his own.

Even if he couldn't become an immortal in his lifetime, he would rely on the sword in his hand to kill anyone who dared to claim themselves as an "immortal."

This idea may seem trivial, but there is probably no one in the world who would be content with mediocrity after experiencing two lifetimes.

Zuo Lingquan has held onto this idea since childhood, so he tirelessly explores his own potential.

A thousand sword strikes a day may sound simple, but Zuo Lingquan does not simply stab a thousand swords every day. He only practices one technique called "Zhongping Ci".

Zhongping Ci is the simplest sword move in swordsmanship, a direct stab along the central line where the sword, hand, and shoulder form a straight line. However, simplicity does not mean inferiority.

On the contrary, simplicity means fewer flaws, simplicity means directness.

Zuo Lingquan comes from a wealthy family and has read many martial arts manuals. In the end, he summarized a principle - martial arts are killing techniques, no matter how complex and exquisite the moves are, their purpose is to kill.

And one sword is enough to kill. You only need to stab the sword in the most accurate place with the fastest speed.

All those fancy moves in the sword manuals are actually just a prelude to this final decisive strike.

Therefore, Zuo Lingquan only practices this final strike, demanding each sword to be faster and more accurate than the previous one. He has been practicing a thousand swords like this every day for fourteen years.

Now Zuo Lingquan himself doesn't even know how fast his sword is because when he strikes, he doesn't pay attention to anything else, his whole focus is on the sword in his hand.

The mountain wind rustles, the waterfall roars.

The time is short, but it feels long.

Wu Qingwan senses the difference in Zuo Lingquan. She sees herself as a mentor and wants to adopt a testing attitude, not wanting to confront him head-on. But instinctively, she unconsciously releases their intertwined hands and assumes a stance suitable for exerting force.

And in the instant when Wu Qingwan's posture changes!

Swoosh--

Before she even sees how the sword is unsheathed, the sharp blade is already in front of her.

The sword hums like a dragon's roar, seemingly overpowering the roaring waterfall behind, making the world silent.

Wu Qingwan's pupils suddenly contract, and all her distractions vanish in that moment.

Zuo Lingquan moves with the sword, his sleeves almost torn apart by the strong wind, but neither the blade nor his gaze trembles. It continues until the sword tip pierces through the fabric of Wu Qingwan's clothes.

Wu Qingwan is a practitioner, but she is not an enlightened master. She is also a mortal, and being pierced through the chest by this sword would be a severe injury, if not fatal.

But will Zuo Lingquan stop?

No.

Because he himself can't react in time, he just exerts all his strength to display what he has learned. The instinct to strike with the sword has long surpassed his thoughts, leaving no opportunity to retract the sword.

If Wu Qingwan can't stop it, by the time Zuo Lingquan realizes, it would probably be after the sword has pierced her heart.

However, Wu Qingwan, who has been practicing for decades and is one of the five masters of Qihuang Valley, cannot die so easily. She did underestimate her opponent a bit, but within ten steps, it is enough for her to respond.

Just as Zuo Lingquan launches his attack, in the instant when the sword tip pierces the clothes, Wu Qingwan's hands have already come together, accurately sandwiching the blade.

The previously unstoppable long sword suddenly freezes between her palms, as if it has struck an iron plate with all its might, unable to make any further progress.

The force of the previous strike was too great, making it difficult for the sword tip to advance, causing the slender blade to instantly bend and form an arc.

Wu Qingwan casually spins and sidesteps, her right leg like a steel whip, lashing towards Zuo Lingquan's cheek. Her long leg swings her skirt in mid-air, like a green water curtain, and the white boots at the forefront directly emit a loud bang.

Crack--

If this kick lands, Zuo Lingquan's head will undoubtedly turn into a smashed watermelon.

Fortunately, Zuo Lingquan can't stop, but Wu Qingwan can.

On the stone platform, the two who had erupted into action suddenly come to a halt at the same time.

(End of this chapter)