"Patriarch, why do you keep staring at me?"
Patriarch Dugu's face was indifferent, as if about to speak but then holding back. After a pause, he only said, "Just focus on learning the sword."
"Alright."
Mo Hua quietly picked up his bamboo sword again and went off to chop wood on the back mountain.
The wood on the back mountain, who knows what grade, was even harder than stone. Every swing of the sword left his hands buzzing and numb.
But according to Patriarch Dugu, this was a required course for all Sword Cultivators.
The important part wasn't chopping wood, but in the process, building synergy between person and sword—achieving unity of swordman and sword, mind and blade as one. That way, in Divine Thought into sword, a single thought could spark Sword Intent, infusing sword into the soul. The sword swam freely through Taixu, commanded like a Divine Envoy, cutting down all in its path.
Mo Hua thought it made perfect sense.
