After returning to his residence, Bai Long sat beneath the massive willow tree that shaded his courtyard. Settling into the wooden chair, he exhaled slowly and withdrew a jade slip from within his sleeve — the Gold Flame Sword Art.
While disciples weren't permitted to take martial arts from the first or second floors of the library, techniques from the third floor and above were treated differently. Since access to those floors could only be earned through merit or achievement, the sect allowed disciples to study the art for thirty days before returning it.
Bai Long pressed the slip to his forehead, allowing his consciousness to sink into it. Instantly, golden characters surged across his mind — intricate movements, detailed sword paths, and swirling flames that burned brighter with each step of comprehension.
A faint smile curved his lips.
So that's how it is...
In his previous life, Bai Long had mastered countless sword techniques, from mortal-level forms to divine-rank arts that could split mountains with a thought. His comprehension of the sword Dao had reached an apex few could imagine. That was why, after barely a few minutes of scanning through the Gold Flame Sword Art, he realised the truth — this Earth-level technique was, in fact, an incomplete Heaven-rank art.
And really, would he still be Bai Long if he didn't complete it?
He opened his eyes, the faint gleam of amusement flickering in his silver pupils.
The creator had a vision, but lacked the foundation. The structure is elegant, but the flow collapses at the final stage...
Setting the jade slip aside, he picked up a thin twig that had fallen from the willow tree. It wasn't much — but to a true swordsman, anything could become a sword.
He stepped into position. The air stilled.
Then — movement.
Each swing was measured, precise, and fluid. The twig sliced through the air, tracing golden arcs that shimmered faintly in the afternoon sun. Seven distinct forms unfolded one after another — each one faster, sharper, and more refined than the last.
But the eighth... was missing.
That was the flaw.
To merge the final form, perfection in the first seven was essential. And so, Bai Long continued. For seven straight hours, he practised without rest. The willow swayed gently, leaves falling around him like golden snow as his sword intent grew stronger, denser, purer.
To any ordinary cultivator, such progress was impossible. Most would spend their entire lifetime attempting to perfect a single style, and still fall short. But Bai Long had once perfected countless divine sword techniques, reaching the Perfect Dao Stage again and again.
To him, this was child's play.
As the moon rose high, he finally paused, lowering the twig.
'The Gold Flame Sword Art relies on speed to catch the opponent off guard, using the flames to suppress them completely. The missing eighth style can't follow that path... speed fails against overwhelming force. The creator likely sought finesse where there should have been dominance.'
He closed his eyes, sinking into thought.
'The final form must be power — pure, unrestrained power.'
His expression hardened with focus. He raised the twig once more, letting his spiritual energy flow freely. Sparks of golden flame gathered along the twig's edge, dancing wildly. Each movement blended speed with precision, grace with brutality — and slowly, a new form began to take shape.
Two days passed in the blink of an eye.
By the time he opened his eyes again, sweat dripped down his temples, his robe clinging faintly to his frame.
"Finally..." he muttered with a soft chuckle. "Creating this last move proved far more difficult than I imagined."
He dropped the twig and leaned against the tree, breathing slowly. Just then, a familiar voice broke the quiet.
"Brother Li! I finally managed to reach the initial stage with the Scarlet Sun Blade technique!"
Bai Long looked up to see Xue He running into the courtyard, sword in hand, face flushed with excitement.
"Well done," Bai Long said calmly, straightening up. "See if you can reach the Novice Stage before the tournament begins."
"Novice Stage?" Xue He blinked, a bit startled. "Brother Li, I've been practising non-stop for three days. Isn't the initial stage good enough?"
Bai Long smiled faintly. "Good enough for now. But cultivation doesn't wait. The sooner you move forward, the stronger your foundation will be."
Though he spoke casually, Bai Long was inwardly surprised.
This boy managed to reach the initial stage of an Earth-level sword art in three days... impressive. In my past life, even I needed four days to reach that point. His comprehension of the sword is far beyond what his cultivation realm suggests.
He watched Xue He, a faint trace of admiration in his gaze.
'This child might one day overturn the heavens themselves. His cultivation talent may be lacking compared to those of higher realms, but comprehension of the Dao becomes more important the further one walks the path. With guidance, his sword could one day shine brighter than any other.'
"Brother Li, what level are you at now?" Xue He asked, his curiosity shining.
Bai Long smirked. "You'll have to wait for the tournament to find out, won't you?"
"Then I'll just have to win and see it for myself!" Xue He said, determination blazing in his blue eyes before turning to leave.
Bai Long watched him go, amusement flickering across his features. "I almost feel sorry for him."
The days that followed were quiet but relentless. Bai Long dedicated every moment to refining his technique. The Gold Flame Sword Art evolved in his hands, each motion flowing seamlessly into the next. Within a week, his mastery had reached the Transcendent Stage — the point where man and sword became one, where every breath resonated with intent.
When the final swing ended, the air in the courtyard shimmered, and the faint image of a golden dragon made of fire coiled briefly around him before fading into nothingness.
'Perfect,' he thought with satisfaction. 'Now I have a technique suitable for the tournament. But relying on one sword art alone would be foolish.'
His mind wandered for a moment before settling on a memory from his past life — a technique so profound that even divine swords trembled before it.
The Formless Flame Sword.
A divine-level art that allowed anything to become a weapon — from the sharpest celestial blade to a blade of grass swaying in the wind.
Bai Long's eyes gleamed with renewed determination.
'I'll have to work hard if I want to reach even the initial stage within twenty days... but it will be worth it.'
He sat down cross-legged beneath the willow tree once more, the night breeze cool against his face, and began to cultivate.
Under the silver moonlight, the faint hum of his qi echoed through the courtyard as the first sparks of formless flame began to dance in his hands.