Volume 1, Chapter 4 – Dominating the Room

“Bai Xiang? What are you doing?”

Witnessing the white-haired girl draw her sword, Zhou Ji finally knitted his brows deep.

He glared at Bai Xiang. “What did I say that was wrong? You’re a sword-track student too. She insulted your Way, and you’re standing up for her?”

It would never occur to Zhou Ji in a million years that his plot had already been exposed.

He’d only dosed her at noon, and she hadn’t drunk from that thermos! Even if she’d suspected something from the start—doesn’t testing and pulling camera footage take time?

He didn’t believe Bai Xiang had come to call him to account over a laxative stunt; he took her choice as simply sticking up for a friend.

Seeing things on the verge of blowing up, most of the jeering students fell silent, leaving only some hotheads—or those who knew Zhou Ji and his clout—still chiming in: “What, you swing fists when you can’t win the argument?”

Bai Xiang had been walking toward Zhou Ji; at that line she pivoted at once, fixing on the boy who’d shouted: “What did you say?”

“I said you can’t argue it! You’re humiliated and want to fight!”

Banking on his height and size, the boy sprang to his feet and gave Bai Xiang a provocative once-over. “What? Did I hit a nerve? I’m sword-track too. Want to have a little practice, the two of us?”

“Well? According to the rules for sword-student duels. Don’t say I’m bullying you…”

The grins that spread around the room made it clear everyone heard the particular charge behind that “practice.”

Great Yu prized martial prowess. Sword-student duels allowed a certain degree of injury and blood. For the sake of face, the loser usually didn’t make too much of it.

Because your moral score counted toward qualifying for a swordsman’s license.

Tainted reputation, unworthy to be called “shi ¹ Kat: Please give an explanation of what ‘shi’ means here ”!

But look at that white-haired girl’s slender frame.

Flashing a wooden sword and playing at master—she’d be eating crow soon enough.

“Bang!”

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But before they could heckle any further, a dark blur whipped out of nowhere and cracked square across the boy’s face, spinning him half around before he crashed into the table with a clatter.

“Wang Yan!”

The boy wasn’t alone. The three sitting with him exploded in anger. The closest snatched up a chair and hurled it at Bai Xiang; the others rushed in as well, ready to go all out against her.

Now it was really getting out of hand!

Seeing it come to actual blows, plenty of people finally felt fear. The timid jumped up and ran for the door; others pulled out their phones to make calls—whether to the police or the school, who knew.

As for Bai Xiang, the chair’s wind and trajectory looked slow to her eyes.

After “Knowing the Self,” the spiritual seed fed back into the body and, within the inner terrace of the mind, formed what was called the “heart-aspect.”

The heart-aspect could indeed, with long nourishment, raise the body’s base metrics—strength, tolerance, reaction time—but the most fundamental difference lay in hand-and-eye control.

Why does “Know the Self” count as entry into the Dao?

Your body can output ten parts of force, but because your control of your muscles is clumsy and your posture poor, you can only deliver six.

Your eyes can see something flying at you; on a good day you dodge, yet other times you’re a post—you just stand and take the hit.

Which means—you can’t control your body at all!

You don’t even know your own body!

You don’t know your limits or why you perform well sometimes and poorly others. Your muscles, bones, and tissues are like scattered troops. Aside from training hard, your results in competition come down to mindset and luck!

Entry into the Dao is different.

The heart-aspect is the embodiment of personal will. Its power flows with your thoughts through every nerve, like a central command post coordinating everything—letting Bai Xiang keep steady control of her body.

If she entered some sporting event right now, she might lose to pros because her body hadn’t been nourished long.

But her performance would be rock-steady!

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As long as she could see, she would react in time.

As long as she didn’t gas out, every exertion would press her body to its limit—like a precision machine with no swings in form and no mistakes!

To everyone else, it looked like her upper body gave the slightest sway; no one even saw how she twisted—she was simply past the flying chair by a hair.

Seeing the thrower still a little dazed, Bai Xiang narrowed her eyes.

The instant she sprang out, she had already read the boy’s current state.

From the moment he snatched the chair to the moment she slipped past it, everything happened so fast his throwing posture hadn’t recovered. His left leg was still forward as the post leg; his right leg, unloaded, was slightly raised.

In other words, he looked taller and bigger than her; in straight arm-wrestling she’d never be his match. But because he’d chosen the wrong stance, most of his body weight was now stacked onto his left leg bone.

Then—my apologies.

She shot her own left leg out to plant her weight, then raised her long right leg and, borrowing the momentum of her forward burst, lashed it like a whip across his left knee!

“Crack!”

The sharp snap was audible across most of the first floor.

The boy lurched and fell, then saw his left leg bent backward into an L. Pain and terror flooded his brain and wrenched a scream out of him.

“Aaah—!”

“My leg… my leg’s broken!!?”

“Li Jinhao?”

Few students in peacetime had seen anything so gory. The other two boys who’d charged in froze, suddenly afraid, and started to back off.

Bai Xiang had no intention of stopping. Riding her momentum, she stepped in again—first slapped the left boy’s face with the flat of the sword, then drew the wooden blade back and whipped it hard across the right one’s jaw.

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And she didn’t forget to plant a kick in the face of “Wang Yan” as he was climbing up, sending him completely lights-out.

“Bai Xiang! Stand down—”

Only then did Zhou Ji react. Shocked and furious—how dare she lay hands on someone right in front of the student council president! The gall!

He was sword-track—and had entered the Dao besides! Never mind the leather shoes bad for footing and the lack of a wooden sword in hand—he balled his fists, leapt down the stairs, and charged Bai Xiang.

Hearing the air split behind her, Bai Xiang turned sideways and raised her sword to block on the slant.

“Thud!”

His fist slammed into the middle of the wooden blade. She was driven back a bit, her feet skidding a line across the tiles.

Zhou Ji had entered earlier. An early-awakened heart-aspect meant his body had been nourished already; both strength and reflexes were vastly higher.

Relying on that physical edge, he kept pressing Bai Xiang, forcing her to meet his fists with the wooden sword; each hit made her slide back.

This is all?

A confident smile tugged his lips. He relaxed slightly. Looked like she’d only just entered.

But after his fist struck the wood again, his expression changed at once.

What the hell?

It felt nothing like the last time!

In fact, it wasn’t. Plainly, she slid farther this time.

She’s controlling how she takes the force?

The second, third follow-ups showed the same minute shift. Waves pounded Zhou Ji’s heart.

Only by simultaneously controlling the force you take and give—through the whole body and through your feet—at the instant of a direct clash could you get that effect.

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He wouldn’t dare claim he could nail it every time, and Bai Xiang—just the heir of some shabby sword dao—on what basis could she?

He wanted to finish her in one go, but her way of taking force kept changing—maddening.

“Thud!”

Fist and blade met again—and this time Zhou Ji’s face changed completely.

He should’ve landed clean, yet the blade gave no sign of force; with a flick and a roll of her wrist, Bai Xiang turned it into a writhing viper stabbing in.

Zhou Ji had to halt his charge and twist aside. He didn’t forget to watch her out of the corner of his eye and caught a glimpse of her flowing in to punt at his post leg.

Too vicious!

Zhou Ji tried to dodge, but there wasn’t time. His body wouldn’t listen.

Only now did he realize why Bai Xiang had refused to lift her feet each time she took a hit—she was shaving her attack-defense transition time!

Even a few tenths faster would do. Those tenths decided the outcome!

“Bang!!!”

Trained as he was, seeing no way to avoid it, Zhou Ji went completely limp to save the post leg if he could.

But midway Bai Xiang shifted again—switching the punt to a flying kick. A heart-seeking boot sent him flying more than two meters, where he lay, unable to get up for a long while.

Drawing her leg back and bringing her feet together, Bai Xiang walked over, planted one foot on Zhou Ji’s face, hoisted the wooden sword reverse-grip, and swept the room with her eyes.

“Now, who’s going to answer me.”

“Does sword training need talent or not?”