novelSusiti Chapter 21 Envoy from the Capital
Chapter 21 Envoy from the Capital
Fang Yingyu was startled and stopped what she was doing, turning around to see Song Liu standing silently in the shadow of the old locust tree at the edge of the field. Moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows and light on his weathered face. Song Liu wasn't wearing his guard's uniform today, only a faded blue cloth robe with a vine rope casually tied around his waist, making him look like any other ordinary farmer in the village. Only his deep, pool-like eyes gleamed with an unmistakable brilliance in the darkness, revealing an aura that spoke volumes about him.
"Master!" Fang Yingyu quickly bowed respectfully.
Song Liu waved his hand, walked slowly to the center of the field, and glanced at Fang Yingyu: "Let me see your progress these past few days."
Fang Yingyu took a deep breath, focused her mind, and practiced the Canglang Blade Technique, which she had been diligently training for the past few days, from beginning to end. The wooden blade moved with great force in her hands. Although it was still immature, it already showed some promise. Sometimes it was as gentle as a trickle of water, and sometimes it was as fierce as a nascent wave crashing against the shore.
A barely perceptible hint of surprise flashed in Song Liu's eyes, as if he hadn't expected his progress to be so rapid, but he quickly regained his composure: "Not bad, your moves and stances are starting to look decent. But you haven't even scratched the surface of the true essence of the Canglang Blade Technique."
"Please give me your guidance, Master!" Fang Yingyu put away her wooden sword, her attitude becoming even more respectful.
Song Liu said no more and took the ordinary wooden sword. The instant the sword touched his hand, his entire aura suddenly changed! Though it was still the same person, he seemed to instantly transform into a vast, boundless ocean, about to unleash a monstrous wave. His movements appeared slow, each move clearly visible, yet Fang Yingyu felt an invisible yet overwhelming pressure wash over her, making her gasp for breath and involuntarily take a half-step back, her heart filled with inexplicable shock.
"Watch closely." Song Liu's voice was deep and full of inner strength, as if carrying the roar of ocean waves. "This is the true Canglang Blade Intent."
In his hands, the wooden sword seemed to be infused with life and soul, no longer a simple chop, hack, thrust, or stab, but transformed into surging waves, rising tides, whirlpools, and raging torrents! The sword's momentum was continuous and its meaning boundless. Fang Yingyu watched, mesmerized and captivated. Those obscure and difficult-to-understand words and symbols in the sword manual, no matter how hard she pondered them, became incredibly clear under Song Bie's personal demonstration. All the key points suddenly became clear!
After finishing a demonstration of his swordsmanship, Song Liu sheathed his sword and stood upright, his breath deep and resonant, dispelling the suffocating pressure that had filled the arena. He tossed the wooden sword back to Fang Yingyu: "Remember, a sword is merely an extension of the arm; but qi and intent are the soul of the sword. No matter how exquisite the moves, without the support of qi and intent, they are ultimately just a fragile display."
Fang Yingyu nodded emphatically, engraving these words firmly in his heart. He suddenly recalled his brother's interpretation that day and couldn't help but ask, "Master, why does the opening of this sword manual say 'Martial arts are not for slaying dragons, but for speaking out for the common people'? What exactly does 'speaking out for the common people' mean?"
Upon hearing the question, Song Liu paused almost imperceptibly, his fingers gripping the hilt of the knife trembling slightly. He slowly turned his head, gazing at the distant, silent, undulating mountain silhouettes in the night, remaining silent for a very long time, so long that Fang Yingyu thought he wouldn't answer.
Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying an indescribable weight of vicissitudes, as if each word bore the weight of ten years of trials and tribulations: "Because... martial arts cultivation should never be a tool for competing for power and gaining empty fame." He paused, as if recalling something, or perhaps admonishing himself, "It should be a shield protecting the weak and innocent, a sharp sword to cut down evil and cleanse injustice in the world. This, perhaps, is what 'speaking out for the common people' means."
After saying that, he didn't say anything more. His figure flashed and disappeared into the thick night, leaving Fang Yingyu standing alone, repeatedly pondering the weight of his words.
After that, Song Bie kept his promise and would quietly appear at the threshing ground behind the village every three to five days when the night was deep. His way of giving instructions was quite unique. He rarely demonstrated specific moves directly. Instead, he was more like a strict debater, always throwing out seemingly simple but actually tricky questions, forcing Fang Yingyu to think and understand for herself.
"If your opponent is swift and uses skillful techniques to deflect your powerful force, what should you do?" During a break in a training exercise, Song Bie stood with his arms crossed and suddenly asked this question.
Fang Yingyu sheathed his sword, standing still, his brow furrowed, lost in deep thought. He repeatedly pondered the key principle of "like flowing water, gentleness overcomes strength" from the sword manual, comparing it with fragments of his sparring, observations, and reflections over the past few days. Under the moonlight, he suddenly flicked his wrist, and the wooden sword's trajectory abruptly changed. It no longer pursued the force of splitting a mountain, but transformed into continuous, gentle waves, entwining, penetrating, and impacting, spontaneously evolving into a set of interwoven footwork and sword techniques that specifically countered skillful force!
Song Bie stood in the shadows, quietly watching the burning light in the boy's eyes, a light brimming with confidence and joy, a light that seemed to pierce through ten years of time. In a daze, he seemed to see another boy, practicing his sword under the moon, also experiencing the same ecstatic joy of enlightenment—it was his younger self, whose eyes had once held that same pure, burning light. But that light ultimately… A stab to his heart pierced him, and he abruptly cut off his thoughts, only saying in a deep voice, "Hmm, the path is right, but the skill is still far from perfect. Keep practicing!"
Under Song Bie's almost relentless guidance, Fang Yingyu's swordsmanship and movement skills improved day by day, and his understanding of martial arts deepened. He was so immersed in the feeling of constantly breaking through his own limits that he was completely unaware of how much he had changed.
Only during breaks from practice, or in the quiet of the night, would another figure involuntarily intrude into his mind—it was Ruan Shanruo. The girl's charming smile, her concerned eyes, even the shimmering sunlight filtering through the silver hairpin in her hair, were all crystal clear. This girl, who held a special place in his heart, was someone he thought of countless times each day. No matter how he wielded his wooden sword, that tender longing in his heart was something he could never truly let go of.
In late autumn, Jingjiang, Guangxi, was shrouded in mist and rain. The persistent dampness seeped into the blue tiles and white walls, permeating every corner of this dilapidated princely mansion with a sense of desolation. Thirteen-year-old Toghon Temür stood blankly before the peeling paint of the mansion gate, gazing at the entourage of envoys from the capital who seemed to have descended from the heavens, their eyes filled with a fear and a blank, bewildered expression unbecoming of his age. The rain soaked his slightly thin shoulders, but he seemed oblivious.