Ning Zhuo's mind stirred. A method of incredibly fine flying sword control flowed along the river of memory and soaked into his Divine Sea. Shentu Wuwei nurtured his sword, released it, retracted it, and concealed it.
After Light Illuminates Gall left his hand, it did not just fly straight and fast. Instead, it would circle, stop, sink, flick upward, swerve, return, and hide. Like a fine blade, it could gently slice through the weak points in an enemy's protective spiritual light.
Ning Zhuo's breathing slowed. He saw Shentu Wuwei practicing with his sword, day after day. In the early morning, he practiced the sword's light.
At noon, its speed. At dusk, retracting its edge. In the dead of night, controlling it from a distance.
He practiced without rest, almost year-round, lost in a state of obsession! At first, the courtyard was filled with small metal bells. The flying sword passed between them without ringing the bells or breaking their strings.
Later, the bells were replaced with candle flames. The flying sword passed through the fire, shaving off only a sliver of the flame. Later still, the candles were replaced with human hairs suspended in mid-air.
When Light Illuminates Gall swept past, it would cut only the white hairs, leaving the black ones untouched. The fineness of this flying sword control left Ning Zhuo in awe.