232 - Destroyer of Ice and Fire

Ning Songwu stood in the Plum Garden, holding a ruler and waiting for Ran Fan Yin. He didn’t know how long he had been waiting when a few scattered plum blossoms fell on his shoulder. At some point, Ran Fan Yin had quietly appeared behind him, holding a snow-blue long sword in her hand. "Your alertness is really lacking," Ran Fan Yin's voice was unemotional and distant. Ning Songwu did not turn around but responded with a playful smile, "I knew it was you, Master, so I didn't need to be alert." Despite Ran Fan Yin's aura almost blending with the Plum Garden, the fresh warmth from her recent bath and that all-too-familiar feeling made it impossible for Ning Songwu not to recognize her. Ran Fan Yin shook her head, "Excuses! ...Have you been practicing the mental techniques I gave you earlier?" "Yes, disciple has practiced." "That's good. Pay close attention to my sword swings and footwork," Ran Fan Yin's words trailed off as she leaped gracefully into the air with her sword. Ning Songwu didn't dare blink; he fixed his eyes firmly on Ran Fan Yin's graceful movements. Her slender figure, wrapped in a neat white outfit, looked like a dragon drifting through the night. Her sleeves rolled up, stirring a gust of wind that caused the pink fallen flowers to follow. The tip of her snow-blue sword aimed at a cluster of plum blossoms on the branch. With a flick of the tip, twelve petals fell. She turned mid-air, stepping onto the first petal as it touched the ground. Simultaneously, her sword pierced another floating petal, raising the remaining petals to the perfect height with the breeze from her sword. Ran Fan Yin spun again, stepping on the second fallen petal and bending low enough to almost touch the ground. Her sword precisely struck another petal, without the slightest error. She repeated this four more times with the same precision. This entire sword routine ended with her stepping on six petals, each footstep matching a posture that hit a plum blossom in the air. She completed it effortlessly, her movements so swift that one could barely discern the details without close inspection. Ran Fan Yin adeptly sheathed her sword and looked at Ning Songwu, who stood there in awe, "Did you see clearly? I will knock down the flowers for you; you just need to strike them with the ruler using my postures and steps." "Master, isn’t that too difficult? Weren't you supposed to teach me beginner sword techniques?" Ning Songwu asked, his face scrunched in distress. "This is the fundamental six-step entry sword technique. You must master these six steps. All higher-level sword techniques derive from and are countered by these six steps. Everything has its origin, and the simplest origin is also the most capable of mastering all things." "Oh... alright..." Ning Songwu felt incredibly uneasy. Ran Fan Yin noticed his unease and reassured him, "Before swinging the sword, channel your energy using the mental techniques I previously taught you; it will be much easier." Ning Songwu nodded and reluctantly raised the ruler with his left hand. An unreadable expression flashed across Ran Fan Yin's eyes, "Use your right hand." "What? My... right hand?!" Ning Songwu's mind went blank. Already feeling apprehensive, this sudden difficult request from Ran Fan Yin left him even more flustered. His right hand, hanging by his side, began to tremble. That right hand was tied to a painful part of his past from three years ago, a time filled with confusion and painful memories he wished to forget. The traumatic memories flooded back, demolishing his hard-earned confidence. "Try it. I want to see how well your right hand has recovered over these years." "Master!" Ning Songwu protested urgently. Ran Fan Yin's gaze softened as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke in a comforting tone, "Wu'er, what are you afraid of? I'm here; what is there to fear?" Yes, what is there to fear... Ning Songwu fell silent. His impediment was not just physical but deeply psychological. The agonizing memory of having his tendons reconnected was vivid. As they say, once bitten by a snake, ten years in fear of a well rope. He seldom used his right hand in daily life, let alone wield a sword. How could that be easy? The air grew still. Seeing no response from Ning Songwu, Ran Fan Yin sighed, "Forget it. Remember that neither aging nor swordsmanship progression is the most crucial. Understanding and overcoming your mental state is the core teaching of our Northern Punishment cultivation. For now, practice with your left hand." Ning Songwu felt utterly useless at that moment. He couldn’t comprehend his master's teachings nor dare to try certain things. He knew nothing. When would he ever be able to catch up with his master? Perhaps never in a lifetime. Ran Fan Yin stood quietly beside a plum tree. With a casual wave of her snow-blue sword, she controlled the fall of every petal without even looking. Her relaxed demeanor and each movement silently showcased her profound skill. Watching the aloof figure in white under the plum tree, Ning Songwu felt a pang in his chest. Though his master stood so close, it felt as if an entire world of cycles and reincarnation separated them, distancing them profoundly. Ning Songwu's first attempt missed the flower entirely. "Again," Ran Fan Yin's emotionless voice sounded particularly harsh at that moment. Ning Songwu nodded, returning to his position and concentrating, trying to recall the precise steps his master had demonstrated. He didn't know how long he practiced. Initially, he counted each attempt silently, but eventually, countless retries left him disheartened. Why were movements that seemed so simple and graceful for his master impossible for him? Several times, he nearly struck the petals but always missed by just a fraction. Exerting all his effort, Ning Songwu executed the first two strikes, but he slipped on the third movement and fell heavily to the ground. He felt a wave of sourness in his eyes, inexplicably aggrieved. Contrary to her usual behavior, Ran Fan Yin did not come over to help or offer comforting words. Her gaze turned frosty, "Get up and try again!" "Master..." Ning Songwu's voice choked with a hint of tears. He had practiced long and hard; his wrist throbbed in pain. "Sitting there crying when you can't complete it—what kind of behavior is that? Do you think practicing swordsmanship is child's play, something you can approach however you wish? Do you know that Son Sheng succeeded in accurately striking five petals on his first try, and Cen Ran managed all six by her third attempt?"