The Eye of Oblivion

Chapter 12: Basic Sword Techniques

Since witnessing the mysterious power of the priest that night, Yahan could not shake the memory from his mind. The power was simply astounding, and its impact was profound; the massive horned python had shown no resistance under the priest’s force. To someone from Earth, this was utterly inconceivable. Compared to the priest’s strength, fighting Yaxiong seemed trivial.

Every man dreams of becoming a hero; every man harbors a martial fantasy.

Though Yahan’s strength, in the context of Earth, was almost superhuman, on this world he was just like any other ordinary person. On Earth, in its feeble gravity, he could effortlessly surpass the speed of sound without exerting his full strength. But here, amidst such potent individuals, he was nothing extraordinary.

A sense of urgency had always gnawed at him, especially after witnessing the priest's formidable and enigmatic power. This world was shrouded in mystery, and his understanding was limited to his immediate surroundings. The terrifying scars borne by the hunters upon their return hinted at the dangers lurking beyond. In just three years, five tribe members had been claimed by beasts in the forest.

In this unknown and enigmatic world, the only assurance of safety—and the most reliable asset—was not wisdom or earthly knowledge, but sheer strength. Despite his considerable advantage over peers of his age, a powerful adult could easily overpower him.

Therefore, since his reincarnation into this world, he had never ceased his practice of hand techniques. For three and a half years, he had trained diligently, without a single day off, in stark contrast to his previous, inconsistent approach.

Before mastering formal training methods, he relied solely on the hand techniques from Earth. As he practiced, he was astonished to discover his gradual acquisition of remarkable abilities. His physical strength was growing rapidly, and his senses became extraordinarily acute. Even in pitch darkness, he could discern distant objects, and he could hear the snores and quarrels of the tribe’s elders with clarity.

His control over his muscles became increasingly agile. Each punch felt thorough and unified, as if all his muscles were moving as one.

However, practicing hand techniques alone was insufficient; he needed to grow stronger and not waste time waiting. Yahan believed that even future mystical training would heavily rely on physical conditioning. After all, the body was the foundation, the vessel for all. The vessel’s capacity determined how far one could go.

Childhood was the prime time for physical development, a golden period indeed.

So, the day after the sacrificial rites, having returned from training in the village and eaten some dried meat, he took the heavy steel sword and walked out of the village to a secluded mountainside, intending to practice sword techniques.

Yet, he had no knowledge of any sword techniques and had never trained with a blade before. Though he had once wielded a bone knife in this world, it was merely for casual use, not taken seriously. After all, coming from an era of peace, he instinctively shunned dangerous weapons.

With his strength making the bone knife feel light, he could maneuver it quite adeptly, fooling anyone unfamiliar with the weapon.

However, his mindset shifted drastically. He realized that what was controlled on Earth might be a mere eating tool here. Mastery of the sword was imperative.

Although he lacked formal techniques, his frequent exposure to martial novels in his past life had given him some insight into swordplay. Complex and powerful techniques were often built from simple, fundamental moves. Mastering these basics and making them second nature allowed for instinctive combat in dangerous situations.

Yet, reaching such a level required extraordinary perseverance. Achieving mastery, where every strike became instinctive, demanded tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands, of repetitions. The effort needed to make all techniques instinctual was immense.

Without a technique or a teacher, Yahan had to rely on this rudimentary approach.

Resolutely, he lifted the steel sword and struck forward with all his might.

Once, twice… His strikes slowed progressively, and after fewer than fifteen swings, he was gasping for breath. The sword was exceptionally heavy, and after less than twenty swings, his arms were weakened, muscles sore and numb, forcing him to rest.

After a break, Yahan resumed, but this time, he could only sustain his effort for ten swings before exhaustion set in. He shook his numb arms, sensing an issue with his stance. His movements were awkward, and his whole body seemed to flinch with each swing, as if it was being flung with the sword.

Previously, wielding the lightweight bone knife had not revealed such discomfort, but the heavy steel sword now exposed it.

“It seems I’ve been using the wrong technique!” he frowned, pondering where he had erred.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. A phrase from his past life about swordsmanship flashed in his mind like a lightning bolt: “Move with the blade! The blade’s force must be fierce! Speed of blade equals speed of technique!”

Previously, he had not grasped the meaning of this phrase, but now, with practical experience, he understood. It was not an epiphany but a clear comprehension of the phrase’s essence.

He took up the sword once more, practicing repeatedly. His movements slowly adjusted, and with each strike, his footwork followed suit. He focused on the principle of moving with the blade. Each time he swung, he paid close attention to the sensations in his body, maintaining the position only when it felt thoroughly right.

Unconsciously, he had completed twenty swings. His body still had some energy left, so he continued for another ten swings before finally stopping, out of breath.

It was only then that he realized his earlier mistakes. His previous stance had relied solely on brute strength, with no coordination from other parts of his body, making the movements clumsy and exhausting.

He rested when tired, then resumed training. As the blue-white sun gradually descended, the awkwardness in his swordplay began to fade. The blade began to exude a powerful, precise force with each swing.