Morning Training.
The warm morning sun filtered soft through the silk drapes of Orion's bedchamber, casting gentle gold on the varnished wood floor. He woke up with a groggy start, before sitting upright with a quiet breath.
Next, Orion shifted from his bed, Last night's banquet picture still whirled in his mind —laughter, music, food and light of lanterns.
He refreshed himself, splashing his face with cold water. And then tied up his white-blue hair after transformation in easy training robe. And as he proceeded downstairs, the mansion strangely fell silent.
"Mother and Mother Sera still sleeping. and look just like Elara too," he muttered, peeping at the bare dining table.
He didn't fault them—the feast had stretched late into night, with nobles, dance, and rich foods. But while they lingered, Orion's spirit tingled for morning training.
Orion took his sword—a polished, cold-silver sword enchanted with subtle spells as he left and headed for the estate training hall. The grass was drenched with morning dew, glittering like minuscule gemstones in sunlight.
As he approached the big oak doors of the hall, he hesitated.
Swish. Swish. Clang.
Movement within. The unmistakable beat of steel dancing.
Someone was already practicing.
Orion scowled. Few others ever took advantage of the hall at this early hour.
Intrigued, he pushed the doors wide—only to come to a stop in mid-stride.
At the center of the expansive stone-floored arena stood solitary figure—Lysandra Voss.
She was dressed in a tight green and silver training suit that hugged her muscular physique, the material molding to the contours of her waist and hips. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, moving with every step. Emerald-green eyes burned with intense concentration. Her skin shone with a fine sheen of sweat, and her movements were as fluid as they were deadly.
In her hands fluttered a silver longsword, its blade glinting like crystal. As she swung it, a soft green aura flowed around the edge of the weapon, ruffling through the air like a soft wind.
Orion's eyes tightened, familiar with the phenomenon.
Elemental resonance… it only worked by cultivator of reached Apprentice -level in cultivation.
On the Apprentice level, farmers started harmonizing with nature's elemental forces. The harmony allowed them to tap into elemental energy with assistance of mana cultivator that boosted their martial skills. On Eldora's world, there were seven elements upon which cultivation was based—Fire, Earth, Wind, Water, Thunder, Holy, and Dark. They started with one, developing it gradually before they ventured into others.
Lysandra's sword, bathed in the soft rustle of wind, indicated her positioning.
"Air element. no surprise that her sword dance like the wind." Orion think in his mind.
Her cuts were beautiful but deadly, each slash a combination of speed and accuracy. She twirled, the green aura growing, and plunged her sword down in a swift hiss that resonated through the arena.
She paused, feeling his proximity, and turned.
"Ah, Lord Orion," she said, a little out of breath but still calm. "Good morning."
Orion blinked, coming out of his reverie.
"Good morning, Miss Voss," he said, entering the training hall.
"I figured everyone would sleep until late morning after such a great feast of night like my both mothers and sister," he continued, walking closer.
Lysandra smiled gently. "I don't often miss morning practice," she replied, stretching a little, her body moving with effortless grace. "Discipline is all. It keeps the body honed—and the mind honed."
Orion nodded in agreement. "That's evident in your swordplay and… Your swordplay is quite impressive."
She thanked him for his compliment then, her gaze wandered to the sword in his hand. "So, you're practicing too?"
"Yes."
Orion replied. "Morning training is my habit too."
"Am I intruding, then?"
"Not at all," Orion smiled. "The arena is large enough for a small army —we've got enough room to train without bumping blades."
She nodded discreetly, lowering her sword "Then I'll stick on this side. Don't worry, I won't get in your way."
He nodded politely and proceeded to the other end of the arena.
Pulling out his sword, Orion shut his eyes briefly, letting the stillness descend into his heart.
Void Edge—his master technique—was strong, but it took its price on the body. Of its seven strikes, his current body could only permit him to use him the first three strike of Void Edge Technique.
He required a new Technique —one that would last. Then, technique from his previous life crossed his mind.
"Sword Splash."
A technique designed for beginners or Apprentice level cultivator but honed for warriors with elegance. Contrary to conventional types of swords that concentrated on sheer force, this one had fluidity, momentum, and natural sword like water rhythm.
He assumed his stance.
Rooted legs.
Relaxed arms.
And then he closed his eyes, directing his mana into his arms, allowing his body to remember movements once ingrained in muscle and spirit.
One step forward.
A horizontal slash, fluid and beautiful—like a river running into rock.
A vertical blow—a splashing waterfall.
A whirling arc—like raindrops dancing on wind.
He strode as moving water, harmonizing his footfalls to the rhythm of his own breathing. Each movement flowed into the next. Simple in principle, yet with power lying in its even, unbroken fluidity.
This was the elegance of Sword Splash. To early-level practitioners, it was priceless—it didn't deplete mana supplies, but drew upon timing and structure. And better still, it created muscle memory.
Orion lost himself in the flow, his mind clear, his body dancing.
Unaware to him, Lysandra had ceased her own practice. Her sword now lay against her shoulder, and her eyes were upon him.
On the other side, Lysandra's green eyes tracked his every movement.
"His movements… so refined. So precise…" she thought.
At Voss Imperial Academy, she'd learned hundreds of sword forms. Some were savage. Some were refined. But Orion's style was. alive. His movement like flowed of a stream, a fluid sink between sword and self. There was no wasted movement. No unnecessary show. Just beauty. It wasn't merely power.
"He does not merely swing a sword," she considered. "He speaks in every movement of sword."
The manner in which he spun his sword. The smooth transitions. The raw concentration in his blue eyes.
She ceased her own practice, mesmerized by watching his swordwork.
When Orion finished a complete rotation and breathed out, a bout of applause rang from the other side of the hall.
He turned, taken aback.
Lysandra came near, applauding slowly, her eyes full of admiration for him.
"Lord Orion… your swordplay is wonderful; I've never witnessed a sword art exactly like that."
Orion blinked, taken somewhat aback. "Thank you. It's merely a standard technique which I read in some old book of swordplay."
"Don't diminish it," she said in small firmly voice. "It's greater than technique — there was something unique in this swordplay moment. Grace. Intent. Like this technique holds heart and own emotions."
Orion gazed at her, truly amazed. he hadn't anticipated from her to realize heart and feeling of swordplay. "You talk as if you really get it."
"I do," said Lysandra, I learned in old book of our Voss imperial school and heard tale my deceased father. "Swordplay isn't about strength—it's about feeling and narrative. And in yours moment I saw both."
He grinned, enjoying the compliment more than he had anticipated.
She paused a few steps in front of him. "May I ask you something?"
Orion slowly sheathed his sword, his voice soft. "Of course."
Lysandra drew a step closer, her emerald-green eyes glinting with something indistinguishable. "Then. would you teach me that sword technique?"
Orion's eyes widened. "You want me to teach you?"
"I realize it's abrupt," she added hastily, but before he could speak, she hastened to add, raising her hands a little in a placating gesture. "Don't misinterpret, Lord Orion. I'll pay—in coin, or a precious sword from my house collection, or even premium pills. Name your price."
He glared at her, truly taken aback. The Sword Splash technique she sought to acquire was one that he had created and mastered back in his first year of cultivation in his previous life. It was not worth much anymore, especially since he had wielded divine techniques that could shatter mountains. And yet. hearing her propose to exchange such treasures for it gave him pause.
Lysandra caught his silence and nibbled her lower lip. "If it's not sufficient, I can raise the offer. I didn't intend to insult you."
Orion shook himself out of his reverie, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "No, that's not it." He shook his head gently. "You don't have to pay."
She blinked. ".What?"
"I'll teach you for free," Orion replied matter-of-factly.
There was a silence of long seconds between them. The air that had been light with the rhythms of training, now seemed hushed. Lysandra's brows rose in shock.
"Dead serious?" she asked him warily.
He looked at her. "Yes. Miss Voss, you are a guest in the Vale home today. And here, it is our responsibility to make our guests' desires come true—unless they hurt us or trespass on moral lines. And your desire. is just within boundaries."
Lysandra stood silently, scanning his face. Then, after a breath, she smiled—a real, soft smile of thanks that made her emerald eyes sparkle like dewy leaves.
"Then. thank you, Lord Orion." Her voice was soft, tinged with something genuine. "I won't forget this favor."
Orion nodded. "If you ever wish to repay me, just keep practicing with heart. That's enough."
A smile pulled at the corners of her lips, softer than before.
"Very well. I promise you, Lord Orion— If you ever require my assistance, in combat or in some other stuff, call upon me. I'll be there —wherever you are."
Their eyes locked and study one another for a while. Then Orion nodded slightly. "Alright. Let's get started."
She corrected herself, tucking a loose blonde lock of hair behind her ear, standing suddenly like an intent swordswoman again. "What is the name for that maneuver?"
"Sword Splash."
She tipped her head at a small angle. "Why is it so called?"
"Because done perfectly," Orion stated, raising his sword, "it approximates the beauty of water splashing against stone—smooth, melodic, strong enough to breach defence."
He stepped back and started to explain. "The base is balance and momentum. You don't go against the flow of movement; you join it. You don't force your blade through the air—you let the energy propel it."
Lysandra observed with sharp eyes as he repeated the stance again, moving slower.
"Step forward, shift your foot a little. keep your centre together." He glided across the floor, his sword drawing fluid curves. "Look at how the body transfers weight? That's the rhythm. You have to sense it—not just imitate."
She nodded. "As water flows to take the shape of its vessel."
"Exactly."
And then he stood still, facing her. "Now you try."
Lysandra set her stance, replicating his stance. "Like this?"
"Not quite," he told her, advancing. "Loosen your shoulder. Your grip—too tight. And this leg." He shifted her foot into place.
She glanced up at him, their closeness suddenly clear. His cool concentration, the warmth of his hand against hers, caused her heart to stumble—but she recovered quickly. "Right. Loosen. Adapt."
Orion drew back. "Try again."
She shifted. Her sword moved with greater fluidity this time, the movement almost liquid.
"Better," he told her. "Make it flow more."
Lysandra shifted, attempting again—and again. Several minutes went by in silence, interrupted only by her trained breaths and the soft whisper of her blade moving through air.
"You're a quick learner," Orion finally complimented her. "Most find the rhythm difficult."
Lysandra produced a weak smile, panting but satisfied. "We learn several sword styles at the academy, but this style feels. different. Like the style itself has a life of its own."
Orion nodded; thoughtful eyes. "Because it's not merely about technique. It's about sink of Body and mind. Don't regard sword as merely a tool—it's an extension of way for sawing your emotions."
She stopped, looking at him and said with a faint smile. "You talk as if you already achieved a master swordsman level."
He glanced aside, consider how to tell her in his previous life he not only master swordman but a few steps away from achieving grandmaster swordman level. But He told her, "I just read in old book and learn for them."
She regards him, and suppose if someone have in his place, that person affirm boast about sword art and attempt impress her but Orion is different, he slightly wave off her compliment and teach her swordplay with whole earnest manner, her respect for him grows little again.
"I think I'm getting it," Lysandra said. "Want me to try a full cycle?"
Orion nodded. "Go ahead."
She stepped forward, guiding the blade in fluid curves, this time finishing the seven-strike routine. Her last movement sent a gentle wind ruffling through the training hall.
As she ceased, Orion applauded once, a grin pulling at his lips. "Not bad, Miss Voss. You're almost there."
Lysandra spun, smiled wanly on his remark. "Coming from you, that counts for something."
Their gazes met—two swords, out yet in repose, comprehending without the need for speech.
Their eyes met in mutual respect.