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August arrived, the summer heat beating down like a hammer.
At dusk, beneath an ancient tree near the Tang Sect’s lodge, Li Yuan moved his blade as slowly as an old man practicing Tai Chi.
In the clamour of the mortal world, he had finally grasped the blade’s subtleties. He had felt true restrained force.
A bird cried overhead; its shadow skimmed the branches.
Li Yuan flicked his wrist. A thread-thin slash of blade qi snapped out, shearing every feather from the bird without so much as nicking the skin.
The now-naked bird flapped stubby wings, panicked, and started to plunge, until an invisible ripple from a second twist of the blade cushioned it gently to the ground.
“Got it,” Li Yuan murmured, delight sparking in his eyes.
And in the corner of his mind, at last, two new entries...
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