Chapter 100: The Real Sword

Flanya’s figure swayed, but the tip of her sword was still trembling.

It was not that she could not hold it.

It was that her heart was shaking.

“No… Soul?”

She murmured, repeating these words, her eyes somewhat dazed.

From childhood until now, all she had heard were her teachers’ praises.

“Lady Flanya’s Talent is astonishing!”

“Lady Flanya’s swordsmanship improves at divine speed!”

“Lady Flanya is truly the pride of the royal family!”

Yet no one had ever told her—

Your sword has no Soul.

Xing Yue looked at her lost expression and sighed inwardly.

To be honest, she did not know why she could tell either.

She had clearly never learned the sword, much less understood anything about swordsmanship.

But when she had watched Flanya swing her sword just now, she had felt a strange sensation—

That sword was dead.

It was like a person performing on stage, while the sword was merely a prop.

The sword and the person were separate.

Not one entity.

“Do you know why your sword has no Soul?”

Xing Yue spoke, her voice calm.

Flanya raised her head and looked at her.

In those eyes were bewilderment, confusion, and a faint trace of unease.

“Because you have never truly loved the sword.”

Xing Yue said.

Flanya was stunned.

“You practice the sword because you feel you should practice it.”

“Because you want to prove that you can do everything, that you are better than everyone else at everything.”

Flanya’s lips moved, wanting to say something, but she found she could not say anything at all.

“But do you actually love the sword?”

“You practice the sword because you want to prove that you can do everything, that you are better than everyone else at everything.”

Love the sword?

She had never thought about this question.

To her, the sword was just a required course.

Like etiquette class, like dance class, like learning Magic, all things that must be learned.

All things that one cannot lose at to others.

But…

Love?

“How does it feel when you practice Magic?”

Xing Yue asked again.

Flanya’s pupils constricted slightly.

When she practiced Magic…

That was different.

That feeling, she was all too familiar with it.

Every time she channeled Mana, every time she communed with an Elemental Spirit, every time she released a brilliant spell—

That feeling was like…

Fighting alongside her closest companions.

When the Elemental Spirits responded to her call, she could feel their joy.

When Magic bloomed in her hands, she could feel their vitality.

That was not a tool.

That was…

A partner.

But now, those partners had left her.

Xing Yue saw her expression and knew she had guessed correctly, so she continued:

“So your Magic has a Soul.”

“But your sword does not.”

“Because you have never treated the sword as a partner, only as a tool.”

“A tool will not respond to you.”

“Only a partner will.”

Flanya’s body trembled slightly.

She lowered her head and looked at the sword in her hand.

The blade reflected her face—pale, bewildered, like a lost person who could not find direction.

“Then… then what should I do?”

Her voice was somewhat hoarse, carrying a trace of indescribable emotion.

Not anger, not unwillingness, but:

Confusion.

She had always thought that as long as she worked hard enough, as long as she practiced every movement to perfection, she could master swordsmanship.

But now someone was telling her—

That was not swordsmanship.

That was imitation.

That was copying.

That was…

Without Soul.

Xing Yue looked at her, silent for a few seconds.

Then, she spoke.

“Put down the golden sword.”

Flanya was taken aback for a moment.

But she still complied.

She placed the sword on the ground, stood up, and looked at Xing Yue.

Xing Yue walked up to her.

“When you were swinging the sword just now, what were you thinking in your mind?”

Flanya thought about it.

“Thinking about what the next movement was.”

“Thinking about the teacher’s guidance.”

“Thinking about how to make the movements more standard.”

Xing Yue nodded.

“Then have you ever thought about—”

Flanya was stunned.

She paused.

“What are you using the sword for?”

“What do you want to do with this sword?”

Of course it was…

To become stronger.

To prove herself.

To make others respect her.

These words flashed through her mind, but she did not say them aloud.

Because she suddenly realized—

These words had nothing to do with the sword itself.

The sword was just a tool.

A tool used to achieve a goal.

Just like a staff.

“You have not thought about it.”

Xing Yue answered for her.

“Because you have never treated the sword as something alive.”

“You have only treated it as a tool, a tool that can help you achieve your goals.”

“So your sword has no Soul.”

Flanya fell silent.

For a very, very long time.

The room was so quiet that only the breathing of the two people could be heard.

Then, Flanya spoke.

Her voice was very soft, so soft it was like talking to herself.

“Then I…”

“What should I do?”

Xing Yue looked at her.

In those heterochromatic eyes, a complex light flickered.

She did not answer directly.

Instead, she crouched down and picked up the sword that had been placed on the ground.

The blade was slender, and the hilt still retained the lingering warmth of Flanya’s palm.

Xing Yue held it, feeling the touch of the metal, and a strange sensation instantly filled her entire body.

This feeling made her somewhat puzzled.

Why did she have an urge to swing the sword?

Xing Yue did not have time to think carefully—her body made the movement for her first.

She held the sword and walked to the open space in the middle of the room.

Then, she moved.

Without any warning, without any thought, her body simply moved naturally on its own.

The sword rose.

At that instant, Flanya’s pupils suddenly constricted.

This was…

The opening stance of the court swordsmanship.

Exactly the same as what she had used earlier.

But—

It was different.

Completely different.

Xing Yue’s figure was light as a swallow, the golden sword seeming to lose all weight in her hand, yet carrying a suffocating pressure.

She struck.

A flash of sword light, the air was torn apart, emitting a crisp sword hum.

That sound was not the harsh clang of metal collision, but a kind of—

Cheering.

As if the sword was conveying its excitement.

Flanya’s heart skipped a beat.

Xing Yue continued to swing the sword.

Chop.

Slash.

Thrust.

Lift.

Parry.

Every movement was exactly the same as what Flanya had done earlier.

But every movement was also completely different.

The same swordsmanship, performed by Xing Yue, was like using the sword to invite an opponent to dance, yet at the final moment, releasing and retracting with perfect control.

The same chop, performed by Xing Yue, carried an indomitable sharpness.

The same thrust, performed by Xing Yue, was fast as lightning, yet gentle as if caressing the air.

The sword in her hand had thoroughly come alive.

Just as Xing Yue had said—not a weapon, not a tool, but a—

Partner.

Every strike produced a crisp sword hum.

The sound echoed through the room, like singing, like cheering.

The sword was cheering.

Because it was dancing with someone who truly understood it.

Flanya stood in place, completely stunned.

She watched that silver figure dance through the room, watched countless flashes of sword light trace beautiful arcs through the air, watched that sword gradually come alive in Xing Yue’s hands—

Her mind went completely blank.

How was this possible?

This was court swordsmanship.

The court swordsmanship she had practiced since childhood.

Every movement was deeply ingrained in her heart, every posture she could perfectly replicate.

But—

Why?

Why did it look completely different when Lady Xing Yue performed it compared to when she performed it?

Her legs went weak, and she could barely stand steady.

Not from fear.

But from—

Awe.

She had never known that a sword could be used like this.

She had never known that there could be such rapport between a sword and a person.

She had never known that court swordsmanship could be this beautiful.

Xing Yue sheathed the sword.

As the final stance fell, the blade traced a perfect arc through the air, finally coming to a quiet hover in midair.

No sound.

No trembling.

Just quietly stopping there, like a butterfly finally coming to rest.

Then Xing Yue turned around and looked at Flanya.

Those heterochromatic eyes were calm as water, without any showing off, without any smugness.

Just quietly looking at her.

Flanya opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but found she could not say anything at all.

There was only one thought in her mind—

This is… what a true sword is?

The room fell into a deathly silence.

Only the lingering resonance of the blade still faintly trembled in the air.

On the surface, Xing Yue looked like she was staying silent to act like an expert, but in reality, she herself was bewildered.

Wh-what… what was going on?!

She had only watched Flanya swing the sword once, felt a bit fired up, could not resist giving it a try, and ended up perfectly replicating the entire set of swordsmanship.

And that feeling of the sword following her heart…

It was like…

A chef returning home and picking up the wok, a painter returning to the studio and grasping the brush, a musician returning to the recording room and plucking the strings…

Stop right there!

She was a Witch—being proficient in all things was one thing, but how was she also this talented at the sword?

How was anyone else supposed to live?

A Cheat?

A Genius?

Wait, that was not right…

Could this be the golden finger that came with her transmigration?

All domain talents were maxed out, making her an existence of monstrous caliber?

Holy crap!

Oh my god!

Mother Earth was really too generous!

In the Demon King Castle, Xing Yue’s Main Body was currently writhing on the bed like a worm from excitement.

And with the Main Body helping to vent the excited emotions, the consciousness projection over here easily restrained the expression on her face, looking at Flanya with the air of a master.

“If you truly want to learn the sword, then you must first learn to love it.”

“Treat it as a friend, not a tool.”

“When the time comes that you no longer think about ‘how to use the sword to become stronger,’ but instead think about ‘fighting alongside this sword’—”

Xing Yue paused, then continued.

“Your sword will have a Soul.”

Afterward, she handed the sword back to Flanya.

Flanya took the sword and looked down at it.

The blade gleamed faintly under the candlelight.

She thought of how it felt when she had been swinging the sword earlier.

At that time, she had only thought about the movements, only about standards, only about how to make the adults satisfied.

She had never thought about—

What relationship this sword had with her.

She raised her head and looked at Xing Yue.

“My lady… then how should I…”

“Practice.”

Xing Yue interrupted her.

“Starting today, hold it while you sleep every night.”

“Talk to it.”

“Wipe it down.”

“Treat it as a living thing, not a piece of iron.”

“When the time comes that it is willing to respond to you—”

She smiled slightly.

“Your sword will come alive.”

Flanya was stunned.

Hold the sword while sleeping?

Talk to the sword?

This…

This was too…

But looking into Xing Yue’s serious eyes, she suddenly felt that the lady was not joking.

She looked down at the sword in her hand.

The sword was still the same sword.

Cold and lifeless, without any warmth.

But this time, when she looked at it, a strange feeling suddenly welled up in her heart.

She could not explain what it was.

But it seemed…

Not so unfamiliar anymore.

Xing Yue’s voice came.

“Tonight, hold it while you sleep.”

“After all, a room is not a training ground, and there will inevitably be some restrictions, so after we return tomorrow, we will find a place to begin sword practice.”

Flanya raised her head, her gaze even more fervent, and nodded her head vigorously.