Douluo Continent: The Martial Soul is Black Kite, the Herrscher of Knowledge

The next morning, when Fu Li entered the classroom, Tang Wulin was already sitting by the window, flipping through a textbook on basic soul guidance theory.

"Good morning, Brother Fu Li!" Tang Wulin looked up and greeted him with a smile.

Fu Li nodded and sat down next to him.

The classroom gradually filled up. Most of the students in Class 5 had relatively low soul power levels; some hadn't even broken through level 10 and could only be considered soul warriors.

Xu Xiaoyan sat in the front row against the wall, quietly keeping her head down, her presence so low that she was almost unnoticeable.

Occasionally, when someone passes by her, she will subconsciously shrank her shoulders, like a frightened little animal.

The first lesson was on the basic theory of soul power. The teacher was a middle-aged man surnamed Liu, who wore thick glasses and spoke slowly and deliberately, making people drowsy.

Fu Li wasn't very interested in this kind of basic course. He only listened to a few sentences casually before opening "An Introduction to Sword Intent" and starting to read it carefully.

Wu Changkong's notes were very dense, with annotations on almost every line.

Some are interpretations of the original text, some are his own insights, and some are questions he wrote down when he was learning swordsmanship—some questions are followed by answers, while others remain blank to this day.

"Sword intent is the spiritual will that unites essence, energy, spirit, and swordsmanship. It is not related to the strength of one's soul power, but to the sincerity of one's heart."

Fu Li stared at the line of text, remained silent for a moment, and then continued scrolling down.

"The essence of swordsmanship lies in sincerity. Sincerity towards the sword, sincerity towards oneself, sincerity towards the enemy. Once the sword is drawn, there is no regret; the mind remains steadfast."

Annotation: "The word 'sincerity' is the most difficult. Most people spend their whole lives deceiving themselves. They deceive themselves into thinking they like swords, that they understand swords, and that swords are everything. But swords don't lie. What your sword is like reflects what you are."

Fu Li's finger stopped on the page.

You are what your sword is.

He recalled what Wu Changkong had said yesterday—"Your sword is someone else's sword."

He is imitating, he is replicating.

Walking a path that others have already walked.

Those moves and techniques were all taught to him by Ah Ji; they were the inheritance of the Tai Xu Sword Form.

He practiced very well, you could even say he practiced perfectly.

But that was the shape of the Taixu Sword, not his sword.

The question is—what should his sword be like?

Fu Li thought about it for a long time, but had no answer.

He turned to the second chapter.

"The advancement of sword intent lies in forgetting. Forget the moves, forget the techniques, forget victory and defeat, forget life and death. The sword is in the heart, not in the hand."

Annotation: "The word 'forget' is harder to grasp than 'sincerity.' A technique is something you've honed through countless trials; how can you simply forget it? Skills are your livelihood; how can you just throw them away?"

Fu Li frowned.

Forgot the moves?

The Taixu Sword Form has a total of twenty-one moves. He has practiced it countless times, and the starting move, variation, and ending move of each move have been engraved into his muscle memory.

How could you forget something so easily?

But it must be admitted that this statement is true.

If you have to think about "how to execute this move" for every sword strike, you'll always be one step behind.

For a true swordsman, the sword should be an extension of the body, a flow of consciousness, not a mere imitation of a pattern.

He flipped through a few more pages and saw a circled paragraph with the word "Important" written next to it.

"The ultimate essence of swordsmanship lies in nothingness. There are no moves, no styles, no intention, and no purpose. The sword is the man, and the man is the sword."

There are no annotations below this entry.

There was only one line of text, the handwriting was darker than the previous ones, as if it had been written with great force: "This is the realm of the Sword God, the most difficult of all."

Fu Li closed the book and shut his eyes.

He didn't know what his sword should be like, nor when he would reach the state of "nothingness".

But he knew at least one thing—the path he was on was the right one.

Ah Ji is right; you can't become a true master by working in isolation. If he hadn't come to Donghai Academy and hadn't met Wu Changkong, he might still be using those twenty-one moves to sweep through his peers, but that doesn't mean he's developed his own path.

The last class ended at 4:30 pm.

Fu Li put the "Initial Explanation of Sword Intent" into her storage bracelet, got up and walked out.

"Brother Fu Li, are you going to the training ground?" Tang Wulin asked.

"Yes, the dance teacher told me to go every afternoon."

A hint of envy flashed in Tang Wulin's eyes, but it was quickly covered up by a smile: "Then good luck! I'm going to practice at the Blacksmith Association this afternoon too."

Fu Li nodded and walked out of the classroom.

The training ground is located behind the administration building. It is a standard one-on-one arena, protected by a soul-guided shield on all sides.

When Fu Li arrived, Wu Changkong was already waiting there.

He changed into a white training uniform, placed a wooden sword across his lap, and closed his eyes to rest.

The afterglow of the setting sun shone on him, but a thin layer of chill lingered around him.

Hearing footsteps, Wu Changkong opened his eyes.

"How many books have you read?"

"The first two chapters."

"What are your thoughts?"

Fu Li thought for a moment and said truthfully, "I understood some parts, but not others. For example, the section on 'Sincerity in the Sword'—I understand the literal meaning, but I don't know how to do it specifically."

Wu Changkong nodded, offering neither comment nor explanation.

He stood up, longsword in hand, and walked to the center of the arena.

"Thinking about things in books is no substitute for doing them. Come, let me see your sword, but don't use that sword."

Fu Li nodded, took out the Spirit Forged Alloy Longsword, walked to the opposite side of Wu Changkong, held the sword in front of him with his left hand, and held it diagonally behind him with his right hand—it was still the Qi Sword·Crescent Moon.

Wu Changkong watched his starting stance, but instead of saying "begin" like yesterday, he directly drew his sword.

The wooden sword flashed with a cold light, heading straight for Fu Li's face.

It wasn't fast, but the angle was tricky, and the tip of the sword trembled slightly, ready to block all four escape routes at any time.

Fu Li did not back down.

The longsword is swung upwards, and the primordial energy of heaven and earth rises from below—Guardian Sword·Strong Bamboo.

"clang--"

As the two swords clashed, Fu Li felt a chill creep along the blades, causing his wrist to stiffen. It was the Frost Sword's icy attribute; even with Wu Changkong suppressing his soul power, the cold was still hard to resist.

Wu Changkong gave him no chance to catch his breath, and the second sword followed immediately.

Fu Li flicked his wrist, transforming hardness into softness—the Sword Transformation: Swallow—to deflect the sword strike and simultaneously turn to the side to create distance.

Wu Changkong followed at a leisurely pace, thrusting out his third sword at an even more cunning angle than the first two, aiming straight for the elbow of the sword-wielding hand.

Fu Li took two steps back and used the Guardian Sword - Pure Lotus. The sword energy bloomed like a lotus flower on his side, blocking the sword.

"Too slow," Wu Changkong said coldly.

The fourth sword strike.

This sword strike was completely different from the previous three. There were no tricky angles, no ingenious variations; it was just a simple straight thrust.

But Fu Li's pupils suddenly contracted.

Because he couldn't avoid it.

That sword strike, seemingly simple, sealed off all his possible responses. Whether he parried, dodged, or countered, the tip of the sword would pierce his shoulder before he could react.

Is this the essence of swordsmanship?

Fu Li gritted his teeth, abandoned all defense, and unleashed a sword strike—Qi Jian·Severing the Sea!

Since we can't avoid it, let's fight back!

The sword energy surged forth like a tidal wave, heading straight for Wu Changkong. But Wu Changkong merely turned slightly to the side, and with a gentle twist of the Heavenly Frost Sword, the sword energy was deflected, grazing past him.

His sword had stopped three inches from Fu Li's shoulder.

"Your swordsmanship is fine," Wu Changkong said calmly, sheathing his sword. "Your technique is even superior to mine, but your mind is the problem."

Fu Li was panting heavily and didn't say anything.

"What were you thinking when you unleashed that sword strike just now?"

Fu Li paused for a moment, then thought back: "I was thinking... how to block your sword."

"That's the problem," Wu Changkong said, looking at him. "You used similar techniques to yesterday, but why were they less effective?"

Fu Li fell silent.

"Your sword is bound by your own worries. After reading the book I gave you, your mind is in turmoil," Wu Changkong continued. "However, I can see that your sword is not suitable for defense, even if it has so many exquisite sword techniques that can be used for defense."

He paused, then said, "Again."

This time, Fu Li tried not to think about those things. She simply watched Wu Changkong's sword and felt its trajectory.

Wu Changkong drew his sword again, at the same unhurried pace.

Fu Li raised his sword, parried, and counterattacked.

This time, he didn't think about what moves to use; he just instinctively swung his sword.

But soon, they were at a disadvantage again.

Wu Changkong's sword was like flowing water, without a fixed shape, yet it was all-pervasive. After each parry, the next sword would attack from an even more cunning angle. Fu Li's defensive and transformative sword techniques, though exquisite, were always a beat too slow.

"You've lost." Wu Changkong suddenly knocked the longsword out of Fu Li's hand with a single stroke.

"It seems you can't beat me without that sword from yesterday."

Fu Li stood there, looking at the sword on the ground, and remained silent for a long time.

"To be continued tomorrow."