Feiyin's breath came out in soft puffs against the morning air, his feet moving across the dirt of the training ground as he completed his usual warm-up routine. His body had grown lean and strong over the past few months, his movements smoother, his posture more refined. Every fiber of his being felt more alive, more attuned to the oscillations of the world around him. He had forged his body, tempered his strength, trained his inner energy, and now.
Today, he would wield a weapon.
Cai Feng stood a short distance away, his hands behind his back, watching his son as he finished his exercises. His sharp gaze softened, ever so slightly, as Feiyin approached, anticipation clear in his young but steady steps.
"You're ready," Cai Feng said simply.
Feiyin's heart pounded with excitement, but he kept himself calm, taking a deep breath to steady his mind. "Yes, Dad."
Cai Feng turned, gesturing toward a set of weapons laid out before them. There were spears, swords, axes, polearms, and more. Feiyin had seen them before, had observed the militia train with them, but this time, the decision was his to make.
His gaze swept over the selection before him, but he already knew what he wanted.
He walked forward, stopping in front of a long, single-edged blade with a slight curve, a saber.
The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, something in him clicked. He lifted it, feeling the weight, the balance, the sharpness of its edge even without swinging it. His father's weapon of choice. It felt right.
Cai Feng watched him, his expression unreadable. "Why the saber?"
Feiyin didn't rush to answer. He lifted the blade, testing its weight in his palm. "It feels natural." His fingers traced the hilt. "It's fast… and precise. It can cut deeply in a single stroke. It doesn't need excessive flourishes." He glanced up at his father. "Like you."
At that, a small smirk tugged at the corner of Cai Feng's lips. "A saber is a weapon of decisiveness," he said, nodding. "It is a weapon of pragmatism. No wasted movements. No wasted effort."
Feiyin gripped it tighter. "Then I made the right choice."
Cai Feng gestured for him to step forward. "Come. Let's begin."
The morning sun cast long shadows over the training ground as father and son faced each other. Cai Feng drew his own saber, the movement effortless, natural, as though the weapon was an extension of his own arm. The blade gleamed under the light, reflecting its wielder's unwavering focus.
Feiyin mirrored him, gripping his own saber tightly.
"Relax," Cai Feng said. "If you grip it too tightly, you lose fluidity. If you hold it too loosely, you lose control." He tapped his own saber against Feiyin's wrist lightly. "Balance."
Feiyin adjusted his grip, breathing in deeply. His father nodded in approval.
"The first thing you must understand," Cai Feng continued, voice steady, "is the nature of drawing your blade."
He walked around Feiyin slowly, the weight of his words pressing down.
"When you draw your blade, it is to kill."
Feiyin stilled, eyes flickering up to meet his father's.
Cai Feng's expression was unreadable, but his tone was clear, absolute. "If you have to draw your weapon, then you must be sure that you are prepared to use it. There is no empty threat, no posturing." His eyes darkened, something old and weathered flashing behind them. "I have seen many a fool draw his blade as a show of strength, only to die a worthless death."
Feiyin swallowed, the weight of those words settling into his bones.
"If you know you cannot win, retreat," Cai Feng continued. "Plan. Think. A drawn blade is a known one. A sheathed blade is unknown." He tapped his scabbard with his fingers. "And people fear what they do not know."
Feiyin listened intently, every word carving itself into his mind.
Cai Feng stepped in front of him again, gripping his saber firmly. "If you choose to wield a weapon, then you must wield it with certainty. There is no room for hesitation. If you hesitate, you die."
Feiyin nodded, gripping his saber with newfound understanding.
"Good." Cai Feng gestured to the training dummies nearby. "Now, let's see if you can cut."
Feiyin positioned himself before the wooden dummy, taking a steadying breath. He adjusted his stance, recalling the movements he had observed from the militia. With a sharp exhale, he swung.
The blade bit into the wood with a solid thunk, but the cut was shallow, hesitant.
Cai Feng sighed. "You hesitated."
Feiyin frowned, staring at the mark left on the dummy. His grip tightened.
"Again."
This time, he focused. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, intent clear in his mind.
The saber cut deeper.
Cai Feng nodded in approval. "Better. But still inefficient. Watch."
He stepped forward and, with a single smooth motion, swung his own saber. The wooden dummy split apart in an instant, as if the blade had passed through air.
Feiyin's eyes widened.
Cai Feng sheathed his saber. "It's not about strength. It's about precision. The cleaner the cut, the less resistance."
Feiyin took a step back, analyzing everything, his stance, his breathing, his movements. His mind absorbed every detail. Intent. Precision. Execution.
He positioned himself again, inhaling deeply.
His father watched.
Feiyin swung.
This time, the cut was cleaner, deeper, closer to what it should be.
Cai Feng's lips curled slightly. "Good."
Feiyin exhaled, chest rising with exhilaration. His father's approval, though rare, felt like an achievement in itself.
But Cai Feng wasn't finished. He lifted a finger and pointed at Feiyin's chest. "Intent is powerful. More powerful than most realize. The stronger your intent, the more it shapes the world around you."
Feiyin tilted his head. "Intent?"
Cai Feng nodded. "At higher levels of cultivation, a strong enough intent can kill without even drawing a blade. It influences the mind, the body, and even Qi itself."
Feiyin absorbed the words, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his saber.
"Even now, when you train," Cai Feng continued, "if your intent is clear in your mind and strong in your heart, you will find controlling your body and inner strength much easier."
Feiyin looked at his saber, then at the training dummy. He closed his eyes briefly, focusing.
He visualized the strike.
When he opened his eyes, he exhaled, and swung.
The saber cut through the dummy smoother than before, the motion more fluid, more decisive.
Cai Feng smirked. "Now, that's progress."
Feiyin grinned, feeling the exhilaration of improvement thrumming in his veins. He wanted to do more, to push further. But he knew better than to rush.
Cai Feng rested a hand on his shoulder. "You've taken your first step. But this is only the beginning."
Feiyin nodded, determination burning in his amethyst-flecked eyes.
He wouldn't waste a single lesson.
Cai Feng observed him for a moment longer before stepping forward, his own saber in hand. The weight of his presence alone demanded attention, and Feiyin instinctively straightened his posture, awaiting the next lesson.
"The purpose of a saber," Cai Feng began, voice steady and certain, "is to cut. To slash and divide. It is not a weapon of brute force, nor is it one for needless embellishments. Every movement must be made with intent, and that intent must be reflected in the flow of your body."
Feiyin listened intently, gripping his saber tightly.
"Internal strength must follow the nature of the saber itself," his father continued. "It is not about overpowering your opponent with sheer force. It is about efficiency, precision, and fluidity."
Cai Feng lifted his saber and, in one smooth motion, demonstrated a single slash. It wasn't fast, nor was it overly forceful, yet Feiyin could feel the flow of power behind it, a seamless transition from start to finish. His father's feet remained steady, yet his whole body moved in perfect synchronization, from his hips to his shoulders, from his elbows down to his wrist, ending in the final snap of the blade.
"To truly wield a saber," Cai Feng said, lowering his weapon, "you must understand the motion of your body and how it connects to your blade. Strength does not start in the arm, it begins from the ground up."
Feiyin furrowed his brows, gripping his saber more thoughtfully now. He had never considered his movements in such a complete manner before.
Cai Feng walked behind him and placed a firm hand on his lower back. "Your foundation must be stable. Power starts from your feet, rooting yourself into the earth."
Feiyin adjusted his stance, feeling the connection between himself and the ground.
"From there, the force rises up, flowing into your hips. Your waist is where the first true movement begins. A weak stance means weak power."
Cai Feng tapped his lower back lightly, signaling for Feiyin to adjust. He did so, tightening his core.
"Your core and back control the transmission of force, directing it where it needs to go. If your core is weak, your strike will have no weight behind it."
Feiyin exhaled, straightening as he felt his inner strength settle into a more grounded position.
"Then, the power continues into the shoulder," Cai Feng instructed. "This is where control is maintained. If the movement is stiff, the strike loses efficiency."
Feiyin took in the information, rolling his shoulders slightly to release any unnecessary tension.
"From your shoulder, the energy flows into your elbow," his father continued. "This is where your strike truly takes shape. A rigid elbow will slow you down, but a weak elbow will make you sloppy."
Finally, Cai Feng pointed at his wrist. "This is where you direct your cut. The final control lies here. A strong wrist ensures precision, but it must be flexible enough to adjust in the middle of an attack."
Feiyin stared at his saber, thinking through every stage of movement.
Feet.
Hips.
Core.
Shoulders.
Elbow.
Wrist.
Blade.
Each one a link in the chain, ensuring that inner strength flowed smoothly, without obstruction.
Cai Feng took a step back. "Now, try again."
Feiyin inhaled deeply, lowering himself into a proper stance. This time, instead of just swinging his saber from his arm, he focused on building the motion from his foundation.
His feet pressed firmly against the ground.
The force coiled in his hips.
His core tightened, channeling the momentum.
His shoulders and elbows directed the motion.
And finally, his wrist snapped the blade forward.
The saber slashed through the air, cutting into the wooden dummy cleanly. Not perfectly, but far better than before.
Feiyin could feel the difference immediately.
Cai Feng gave a small nod. "Better."
Feiyin exhaled, his heart pounding, not from exhaustion, but from realization.
This was what it meant to truly wield a weapon.