When it came close, Shi Jing expression grew cold and his gaze unflinch.
Its sharp tip paused just a hair away from his pupil. The silver light feels cold as it was reflected in his golden pupil.
Seeing this, Shi Jing let out a light coughed, pretending to be startled.
As he coughed, his hand reached for the handle of the sword.
When his hand held the handle, the aged wood Jianba gripped into his palm.
At the same time, he lightly swung the sword, its movement forming an arc.
Seeing this young man's attitude and calm exterior, Ming Feng lips curled into a smile. Inwardly, he was even more pleased.
"Among the four major weapon: Dao, Jian, Qiang, and Gùn(棍). Jian (One-Handed Sword), is the most gentle and light."
He said as he caress his fingers across the blade body. His gaze follow the movement of his finger.
"People say that the Jian (Sword) is dull and weak, too soft and gentle, thus it is weak. But they are unaware that since ancient time, the sword has always been one of the pinnacle of weapons."
His voice was sentimental. Shi Jing easily discern the emotion layered behind this senior's words.
If Shi Jing was truly a young thirteen year old boy, perhaps he wouldn't see through this.
Clearly, Ming Feng held a considerable respect as well as obsession toward the sword.
"Senior Feng, the One Autumn Stroke, this junior is curious who created this sword art?"
Hearing this question, Ming Feng was brought back to the present and looked at Shi Jing. Then, shook his head and sighed.
"Regarding this matter, It is not a secret to tell you."
"I didn't create this sword art, my father did not create this sword art, and grandfather certainly did not create this sword art."
His words stunned Shi Jing.
The Ming family didn't create this sword art? Then where did it come from?
"In fact, this sword art is incomplete, can you believe it?" His voice was filled with respect and a hint of regret as he says this.
Shi Jing grew silent and didn't answer him.
An incomplete sword art is actually already at Heaven-Grade? What sort of rank would this sword art be if it was complete?
Ming Feng continue without waiting for him to answer.
"This is why I am willing to gift it to you, this sword art does not belong to the Ming family, it was founded my ancestor in an ancient inheritance… "
"This inheritance belongs to Sword Demon, Jian Zhu!"
Shi Jing, who had gleamed at the two sentence in the jade slip, understood the might behind the final one autumn stroke.
Due to this, he can't help but wondered.
"Who is this Sword Demon?"
Ming Feng was patient as he answer Shi Jing questions.
His gaze penetrate past the horizon, as though he was viewing the event of the past.
"In the past, within Cangwu Region, there was an orphan. Through fate and luck, he obtained a foundation establishment inheritance and walk the path of cultivation."
"This lone figure, despite his upbringing, walked the righteous path. Later on, it is rumored that he fell in love, but in the end, this love betrayed him."
Ming Feng's eyes grew distant, his weathered hands unconsciously tracing sword forms in the air as he spoke.
As his hand move, there was slight frown on his face before being concealed.
"After this event, he cast away the righteous path and walked the demonic path, obsessing over the sword. During his era, his sword stroke blotted the heavens and stained the earth."
He suddenly drew his sword in a fluid motion, the steel singing through the air.
Shi Jing instinctively stepped back, feeling the killing intent that briefly flickered around him.
"Like this—" Ming Feng's blade carved three precise arcs, each movement containing the a gentle yet lethal force.
"But his strokes contained a hundred times more malice."
"Even when it is summer, when he draw his sword, autumn would arrive. If there is no autumn, he will make autumn appear!"
The sword returned to its sheath with a soft click.
"However," Ming Feng's voice softened, "Power built on hatred is ultimately vain. The Sword Demon disappearance proved this."
Shi Jing leaned forward, genuinely curious at the state of this famed Sword Demon.
"Did he die?"
"No one knows." Ming Feng paced around the hall, his gaze settle on the distant sky.
"The only clues and hint of his existence is the inheritance he left behind, which my ancestor chanced upon during their early year."
Shi Jing drew a cold breath as Ming Feng conclude his words.
At this moment, Ming Feng got back on topic and turn to face Shi Jing.
"Are you not here to see the demonstration of the Autumn Stroke? I can't have elder Chen say that I held you back…"
"If not for my relation with that old frog…" He paused, letting the words imply itself.
Seeing this, Shi Jing wryly smile, shaking his head at the two old man.
"Yes, senior."
Ming Feng nodded, then warned him.
"I will only show it to you once, what you comprehend is your own, if you have any question after, ask."
Without waiting for Shi Jing to acknowledge his word, he flicked his finger.
The sword flew from its sheath into the hair, hovering by his side.
Shi Jing golden gaze focused on the aged figure and sword.
"A single drop conceal the sword." Ming Feng voice echoed in the hall, his hand holding the sword as they perform a sword stroke.
This sword stroke left behind after-images.
For a second, Shi Jing swore he could see droplet forming in the atmosphere. At the same time, the cold breeze blew on his back, causing him to shudder.
"A hundred drop conceal the sword intent!"
Suddenly, Ming Feng movement shifted.
In an instant, a series of sword slashes and stroke was displayed one after another.
The breeze which was cold before became sharp blades, pricking Shi Jing's skin.
At the same time, each of these slashes and stroke seemingly form a droplet. Together, they formed an illusionary river.
"A thousand drop to form the sword spirit!"
Shi Jing eyes lit up as he stir his spiritual sense.