Chapter Eight: The Path of the Sparkling Light

“Qiu Bai… what kind of person is he, really?”
Although Long Ma had changed his final route on a whim, in truth, he didn’t have a deep understanding of Qiu Bai; his actions were impulsive, not considered.
At this moment, Qiu Bai had already spent three days straight hacking away at stones of all shapes and sizes. To be honest, his progress was far from smooth. At first, this slow advance—indeed, the lack of any progress at all—left him as restless as a puddle parched beneath the burning sun. After all, Long Ma’s time was severely limited. Yet later, he regained a calmness, serene as a clear spring atop a snow-capped peak.
There was a natural reason for this shift in his mindset.
Because on the opposite side of the port town, Long Ma’s house stood in a place rarely visited by others. Including himself, there were only three people here from start to finish. Qiu Bai was busy forging iron, and his own self-assessment would hardly be meaningful; so the only one who could answer Long Ma was Ai En.
Eccentric.
That word suited Qiu Bai well, but Ai En clearly preferred not to describe him with such a term, which carries a positive nuance.
Ai En sat on a chair not far away, just in the right spot to observe the light flowing over Qiu Bai. Objectively speaking, Qiu Bai was a man who was sometimes carried by the wind, sometimes lost in dreams, occasionally mad, sometimes confused, and at times, he even sang…
After dismissing the word “eccentric,” Ai En chose a more familiar expression:
“Qiu Bai is… well, a bit of a ‘lunatic.’”
She was being polite enough, at least not calling him “sick,” wasn’t she?
“…”
Long Ma’s skin was not fair, but right now he was certainly facing west, as if his time was running out. He clearly hadn’t expected such a peculiar assessment from Qiu Bai’s companion.
In truth, even Qiu Bai himself was unaware of this. He believed he’d always maintained a positive image, never realizing he was already bent so low, barely five degrees off the ground.
After all, a person’s true nature will always reveal itself to those nearby, often unconsciously.
Qiu Bai was still wholly absorbed in splitting stones. By now he fully understood what Long Ma had said earlier—about feeling, listening to all things. It had startled Qiu Bai at first, making him think those teachings were lofty and profound; but upon reflection, weren’t they simply about focusing one’s mind before drawing the sword, achieving unity of eye, ear, heart, body, intention, and soul, and striking in the instant the target’s weakness appeared?
Yet simplifying the explanation didn’t make the training any easier. The difficulty lay in the fact that this so-called cultivation relied on an elusive, immeasurable sense.
Which angle, which force, which moment to strike for the best result depended entirely on experience—and Qiu Bai clearly lacked such experience.
Over these three days, he had occasionally managed a clean, effortless split with a single stroke, but those moments were rare, the odds almost negligible—a bit like a blind cat stumbling upon a dead mouse. Yet after three days, he had begun to grasp that elusive feeling.
As for overcoming his initial agitation, it was because he’d come to realize: in any pursuit, greed is the worst mindset.
To encounter a sword master like Long Ma and gain such an opportunity to learn was already a stroke of extraordinary luck, something to be grateful for. Perhaps their time together would be short, but there was no need to be overly attached to that. Every bit he learned from Long Ma was an unexpected bonus.
To hope to learn everything he wished within a month, or to obsess over the ethereal “domineering aura,” was frankly laughable. Even the most gifted have limits; some things cannot be mastered in a short time.
Once he understood this, Qiu Bai’s mind naturally relaxed.
To state coldly, Long Ma’s life was nearing its end, while Qiu Bai’s journey was only beginning. Even if he lost his current opportunity, other Long Mas would await him across the vast seas in the future. Whether friend or foe, he would always find new chances to learn.
This was the step-by-step path Qiu Bai sought. He had been somewhat lost and impatient before, but he managed to adjust in time.
Qiu Bai no longer forced himself to achieve anything specific, instead proceeding with methodical training, and so time flowed on quietly.
In the blink of an eye, more than twenty days had passed. During this period, Long Ma’s health visibly declined, the so-called “final hour” fast approaching.
“How is it going?” Long Ma asked, leaning on his sword as he addressed Qiu Bai, who was still hard at work. He was already struggling to move.
“I’ve begun to grasp something, but I’m still far from being able to use only half my strength as you said. As for cutting my strength in half again…” Qiu Bai shook his head. Even if that day ever came, Long Ma certainly wouldn’t be around to see it.
“My technical skills may be slow to improve, but my wrist strength has progressed much faster.”
Qiu Bai followed with a joke, ill-timed under the circumstances.
“But your body…”
Truthfully, watching someone age is never a pleasant experience; it only underscores life’s irresistible decline… Perhaps Ai En’s ability could prolong Long Ma’s life for a while, but Qiu Bai didn’t mention it.
The “Retrogression Fruit” of the superhuman type could even restore Long Ma’s peak strength…
Qiu Bai’s silence wasn’t for secrecy, but because he knew Ai En had surely discussed this with Long Ma personally. But his current state made clear he’d refused that offer… Whether swordsman or otherwise, the so-called strong must possess a powerful spirit; to seek escape from the last breath of life is, to them, a fear of death—an act of cowardice and defeat. Long Ma scorned such a fate.
Even if his life were extended for a time, Long Ma would lose his dignity as a sword master—that was something he could never accept.
Yet the temptation to return to his prime was immense, but Long Ma still chose to refuse, and Qiu Bai respected and even admired his decision.
“I still have a little time left, so come with me,” Long Ma suddenly said.
“…?” Qiu Bai was puzzled.
“Since meeting you two, I haven’t actually taught you anything substantial. Even your current training is no exception… From start to finish, you’ve only been undergoing a test of spirit, so I could see whether you’re qualified to learn more.” Long Ma explained.
Qiu Bai blinked. Hearing this, the discord he’d felt suddenly made sense… No wonder it all seemed to go so smoothly at first, and the later practice was so monotonous. Though he was making progress, something felt off.
Now, the source of that oddness was clear—it had all been a test.
On reflection, it made perfect sense. Even when buying vegetables, one picks carefully. If Long Ma were to buy vegetables… all the more so.
The idea that struck him upon first meeting Qiu Bai had finally become a resolve and a decision.
“Your reaction is beyond my expectations—too calm… Did you anticipate the ‘test’?” Long Ma asked.
“No, I just find your explanation very reasonable,” Qiu Bai replied. Who would expect someone so close to death would bother with tests?
“Well then, let me teach you something different.”
Long Ma fastened Qiushui at his waist, walked ahead to lead the way for Qiu Bai, and once again pushed open the doors of the dojo.