Invisible Wind Blade

Hao Nhien opened his eyes inside the small stone chamber, his breathing still faster than usual and a layer of cold sweat covering his back. He had no idea how long the vision had lasted. It might have been only a few breaths, or far longer, because by the time his awareness fully returned, his sense of time had almost completely vanished.

Within his Sea of Consciousness, the Spirit Wing core still floated quietly beside the Spirit Sword, yet the way he perceived it had changed entirely.

Hao Nhien no longer regarded it as merely a miraculous pair of wings that had merged with him. The lingering vision of Garuda and the Great Python God had shown him that the Spirit Wings originated from a level of existence far beyond his current understanding. He had no way of knowing how powerful Garuda had truly been, nor did he understand why only its wings remained after that battle, but part of that ancient remnant had now become a structure directly connected to his Divine Soul.

After steadying his mind, he began examining his body.

His dantian had expanded considerably, and the amount of true qi within it was far greater than before. The meridians that had repeatedly endured pressure from underwater training, combat, and recovery now carried energy far more smoothly, especially through his legs, waist, and back.

His cultivation had stabilized firmly at the late stage of the ninth layer of Qi Condensation.

The advancement was so great that even Hao Nhien needed a moment of silence before fully accepting it. Yet when he recalled Garuda from the vision, the change no longer seemed quite as impossible. A trace of power left behind by an existence of that level might have been insignificant to Garuda itself, but for a Qi Condensation cultivator, even that much could produce an enormous transformation.

What interested him most, however, was not the increase in quantity.

He raised one hand and circulated a portion of the power within his meridians. A thin layer of qi quickly gathered around his fingers. When his intent shifted, the true qi took on a quality it had never possessed before. It became lighter, more fluid, and far more responsive to the surrounding airflow.

Wind affinity had truly become part of his abilities.

Hao Nhien rose and directed his attention toward the Spirit Wing core.

The structure within his Sea of Consciousness gave a faint response, and a pair of transparent wings gradually unfolded behind him.

This time, the sensation was so clear that he could almost distinguish how much force each part of the wings was bearing, whether the angles on both sides were balanced, and even the smallest changes in airflow as they were transmitted back through the entire control structure.

He took a tentative step forward.

The wings had barely moved when his body shot farther than expected. Hao Nhien nearly crashed straight into the opposite wall and had to twist his shoulders by reflex, drawing in the left wing while opening the right farther. The airflow shifted with the motion, turning his body sideways in midair before he landed somewhat awkwardly.

He stopped, looked back at the wings, and laughed.

The Spirit Wing core had given his Divine Soul an understanding of how to control this new structure, but his body, true qi, and reflexes still needed time to adapt. Gaining two wings did not mean he would instantly become a perfect flyer.

He tried again, this time with greater care.

The wings opened only as much as necessary. True qi circulated through the meridians involved in his movement, while the wind-aspected spiritual qi around him was drawn into motion. Hao Nhien stepped from the edge of the stone and allowed his body to leave the ground.

He did not fall immediately.

The transparent wings held him suspended for a brief moment.

It lasted only a few breaths, but that was enough to make his heart beat faster.

Foundation Establishment cultivators could rely on artifacts or sword flight to travel through the air, while he was still only at Qi Condensation. His ability to remain airborne was extremely limited, yet for the first time, the sky no longer felt entirely beyond his reach.

He did not force the experiment to continue. Maintaining the Spirit Wings consumed true qi far more quickly than moving across the ground, and balancing himself in three dimensions demanded an entirely new way of coordinating his body. Even so, the possibilities were already obvious. The wings could provide bursts of acceleration, change his direction in midair, reduce the force of a fall, keep him suspended for short periods, and create movement angles that ordinary footwork could hardly achieve.

Once his cultivation grew stronger and his body fully adapted, true flight seemed like only a matter of time.

That thought kept Hao Nhien still for quite a while.

Throughout his cultivation until now, he had relied mainly on his body, fist arts, swordsmanship, and movement techniques. The Spirit Wings had opened an entirely different layer of combat, broader than anything he had previously touched.

He withdrew them. The transparent wings gradually faded into the air, while the core remained quietly beside the Spirit Sword within his Sea of Consciousness.

A sword and a pair of wings, two completely different structures, yet both had become things his Divine Soul could control directly.

Hao Nhien turned toward the way out.

The benefit of moving with the Spirit Wings became apparent almost at once.

When wind pressed in from the right, the left wing only needed to open a little farther to restore balance. When a current reversed, both wings folded inward to reduce resistance. In sections too narrow to pass comfortably, one wing closed completely while the other moved just enough to keep his body from striking the stone. Movements that had once depended almost entirely on his shoulders, waist, legs, and momentum now had another set of limbs contributing to them.

More importantly, the Spirit Wings did not invalidate anything Hao Nhien had already learned. Instead, they drew his scattered experiences into a more complete system. His days training underwater, the insights gained from the Gray Shadow Wolf King’s Beast King core, the battle with the Successor, and countless earlier mistakes had all become part of the foundation through which he understood his new wings.

When he returned to the stone platform, Hao Nhien did not jump down.

He simply stepped off the edge.

The transparent wings opened behind him and slowed his descent. By the time his toes touched the stone below, almost no sound was produced.

He looked back up.

The wind-aspected spiritual qi within the cavern had weakened noticeably. The currents that had once poured continuously from the crevice behind the platform were now far thinner.

There was no need for further deduction. The secret of this place had never been the stone platform, and the Gray Shadow Wolf King had never been the true source of the wind. The Spirit Wings were what had created the cavern’s unusual environment over an immense span of time.

Perhaps the Gray Shadow Wolf King had never been able to enter the small chamber farther inside, but simply living for years beneath the currents created by the Spirit Wings would have been enough to deepen its understanding of wind far beyond that of the rest of its kind.

Hao Nhien looked at the platform for another moment and let out a quiet breath. The opportunity that had once nurtured the Gray Shadow Wolf King had finally taken a different path.

As he stepped out of the cave, a cold current from deep within the passage brushed across his back, carrying the lingering scent of beast blood, damp stone, and spiritual qi that had not yet fully dispersed. The Spirit Wing core in his Sea of Consciousness gave a faint response, while the sensation of two new limbs behind him remained perfectly clear even though the wings themselves were not manifested.

The feeling was strange, yet no longer foreign. With the slightest shift of intent, Hao Nhien knew he could summon them at any moment.

A natural stone terrace projected from the mountain outside the cave. It stretched nearly ten zhang across, its surface covered in gray moss and cracks worn down by years of wind. A few withered trees grew at angles from the stone, their thin branches trembling continuously in the cold air.

He walked slowly to the edge.

The sight before him kept him there longer than expected.

Beneath the enormous moon hanging in the dark sky of the Spirit Beast Forest, an endless expanse of mountains and woodland stretched toward a faint horizon. Thousands of peaks rose layer after layer, most of them veiled in gray mist. Far among those distant mountains, faint glimmers of blue, red, and violet occasionally appeared before fading again. The distance was too great for Hao Nhien to determine whether they were fluctuations of spiritual qi, formations, or some other phenomenon.

Only after standing there for a long time did he fully understand why he had encountered so few people during nearly a month inside the realm.

Taken from NovelPhoenix, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

This secret realm was enormous.

More than a thousand disciples being transported into the same place sounded like a great number, but if the distances between regions reached hundreds of miles or more, two people meeting by chance would never have been easy.

As he studied the distant mountain ranges, another thought arose.

The region he had just crossed alone had contained two Beast Kings, an unusual cave dwelling, and the Spirit Wings. In a secret realm this vast, it was difficult to believe that only one area concealed such secrets.

What lay in the other regions was impossible to know, but the dangers there were unlikely to be any less severe.

Hao Nhien looked down the mountainside and found himself thinking back over everything that had happened. The Gray Shadow Wolf King had hunted him, he had unintentionally led it into the Python King’s territory, then witnessed the two Beast Kings fight until both died. He had obtained two Beast King cores and eventually discovered the Spirit Wings.

If one only looked at the results, it sounded as though one fortunate opportunity after another had simply fallen into his hands.

Hao Nhien knew better.

Every step had brought him dangerously close to death. A single delayed reaction during his escape, one wrong direction, or one mistaken judgment could have ended his life long ago.

That thought brought Quan Nha to mind.

His expression gradually grew more serious.

In the remnant vision from the Spirit Wings, all that remained of the Great Python God at the end were its eyes. The power within that gaze had nearly pulled his consciousness apart after only a moment of exposure.

He could not help connecting that sensation to the Charm affinity Quan Nha had recently awakened.

Hao Nhien did not know what relationship, if any, existed between the Python King and the Great Python God. It might involve bloodline, some distant imprint, or simply a similarity in innate talent. He did not have enough evidence to draw a conclusion, though some form of connection seemed entirely possible.

If Quan Nha discovered a deeper opportunity within the Python King’s territory, there was no telling what might happen.

A thought made him frown.

Could she encounter something connected to those eyes?

He quickly suppressed the speculation.

Quan Nha was still Quan Nha, just as he remained Hao Nhien. The Spirit Wings had not turned him into Garuda, and a fortuitous encounter involving Charm affinity did not mean she would somehow become the Great Python God.

What concerned him more was the influence of powerful residual imprints. Hao Nhien himself had felt the lingering ferocity within the Gray Shadow Wolf King’s Beast King core, while Quan Nha had briefly lost control of her Charm affinity before. If she encountered something even deeper, the risk could only increase.

He needed to see her, if only to make sure she was safe.

Hao Nhien turned his gaze toward the distant mountain ranges. The vast open space before him gave rise to another idea.

Inside the small chamber, he had only tested his ability to remain airborne for a few breaths. There had been too little room to properly examine what the Spirit Wings could do in open flight.

The stone terrace outside was completely different.

He decided to test them once.

The Spirit Wings responded to his intent. Transparent wings unfolded behind him, and moonlight passed through their thin surfaces, revealing countless fine currents within like threads of silver.

True qi began to circulate.

The wings spread wider.

Hao Nhien pushed off hard from the stone platform, and his body shot beyond the edge.

The first sensation was better than he had expected. Wind flowed beneath the wings, reducing the force of his fall while his body continued forward on momentum. A small change in wing angle was enough to alter his direction.

For the first few breaths, Hao Nhien almost felt as though he had already grasped the method.

The distance ahead shrank rapidly.

The freedom of leaving the ground made him unconsciously extend the experiment a little longer.

Then the problem appeared.

True qi began draining from his dantian far faster than it had while he was merely hovering inside the cave. The wings behind him trembled, the currents within them grew unstable, and sharp pain spread through the meridians of his back, shoulders, and legs.

Hao Nhien’s expression changed, and he tried to descend at once.

He was already too late.

The light across the wings faded rapidly, and the supporting force weakened with it. His body, still moving forward, began pitching toward the mountainside below. He hurriedly folded the wings, twisted his body, and circulated true qi to protect the most vulnerable areas, but he still could not avoid the fall entirely.

He struck a rocky outcrop, rolled through a cluster of dead branches, and continued sliding down the uneven slope. By the time he managed to catch hold of a protruding stone, his robe had torn in several more places, and scratches covered his arms and face.

Hao Nhien lay still for a moment, listening to the cold wind move through his disheveled hair.

Then he laughed.

The sound began quietly before becoming clearer.

“So imagination and reality are still quite far apart.”

He wiped the blood from his cheek and sat up.

The image of Garuda tearing through the chaotic heavens remained vivid in his mind. Perhaps that was exactly why he had unconsciously overestimated what he himself could currently achieve.

Garuda was Garuda.

Hao Nhien was still only a ninth layer Qi Condensation cultivator.

The distance between them was so enormous that the two could not be judged by the same standard.

He took out a bottle of Qi Recovery Liquid, drank a small mouthful, then sat cross-legged to regulate his breathing. The medicinal effect spread through his meridians, gradually settling the chaotic true qi while easing the sharp pain in his back and shoulders.

Only after several circulations did he open his eyes again.

That attempt had given him a very clear answer.

The Spirit Wings could indeed help him fly, but only for a very short time at his current level. The greatest limits were the amount of true qi he possessed, the strain his meridians could endure, and the fact that his body had not yet adapted to maintaining the wings for extended periods.

It reminded him of the Spirit Sword.

The Spirit Sword had belonged to him for some time, yet at his present cultivation he could still use only a small portion of its true capability. The Spirit Wings were no different. Possessing something powerful did not mean its wielder could immediately draw out all of its strength.

Hao Nhien rose and brushed the dust from his clothes. There was nothing about the result that disappointed him.

If anything, knowing the limits made the path of training much clearer.

Long-distance flight was not practical yet. For now, the best use of the Spirit Wings would be to support his movement techniques.

He activated them again without spreading them fully. The transparent wings appeared only faintly behind him, enough to interact with the currents around his body without consuming excessive true qi.

Hao Nhien took a step, and his body immediately glided forward faster than usual.

This time, he made no attempt to leave the ground. His feet remained the main source of power, while his waist and torso controlled his center of gravity. The Spirit Wings simply reduced resistance, provided additional lift, and assisted with changes in direction.

The result was far better.

When moving downhill, he no longer needed to spend as much true qi slowing himself. A small change in wing angle was enough to reduce the force of his descent. When a tree trunk blocked his path, Hao Nhien tilted his shoulder while folding the left wing inward, allowing him to slip through the narrow opening without breaking stride.

The longer he ran, the more natural the movement became.

The Spirit Wings did not replace his movement techniques. They expanded what those techniques were capable of.

He then tried something else.

Raising two fingers, Hao Nhien guided a portion of true qi carrying the new Wind affinity to his fingertips and compressed it.

The first current only made a dry leaf beside him tremble.

He tried again. This time the airflow was thinner and faster, enough to slice away one corner of the leaf.

Hao Nhien examined the cut and continued adjusting. The technique was still extremely crude. If he wanted to use it in actual combat, he would need to make it more stable, sharper, and most importantly, fast enough that an opponent would not have time to react.

He did not name it yet. Something that had not even taken clear form did not need to be called a technique so soon.

Half a day later, Hao Nhien returned to the small cave where he and Quan Nha had parted.

Almost nothing had changed.

The narrow stream still flowed beneath the pale moonlight. Gray vines concealed the cave entrance, and several stones he had once moved into place remained exactly where he had left them.

The familiar surroundings brought back memories of that night.

The warmth inside the cave, Quan Nha’s gaze after she woke, and the brief conversation before they separated to search for their own opportunities.

A hint of a smile touched his lips before fading again.

According to their agreement, he had returned five or six days early.

Quan Nha was probably still somewhere within the Python King’s territory.

Hao Nhien decided to wait.

The time would also allow him to become more familiar with the Spirit Wings.

For the next five days, the stream, cliffs, and slopes around the cave became his training ground.

At first, mistakes were frequent. Sometimes he applied force through the wings too early and changed direction far more sharply than intended. At other times, he opened them at too wide an angle and lost speed abruptly. Training over the water was no easier. Being even half a beat late could cause the supporting force to vanish and send him straight into the stream.

But the failures became less frequent very quickly.

By the second day, using the Spirit Wings to support his movement techniques had already begun to feel natural. Hao Nhien could accelerate sharply over short distances, change direction between steps, reduce the force of a fall from a high cliff, and remain airborne for a brief period without throwing his true qi into disorder.

In situations where he needed to redirect himself, reduce impact, or borrow momentum, the total true qi required could actually be lower than forcing his body through the same movement with raw power. Yet keeping the wings active when there was no need caused his consumption to rise rapidly.

The most efficient method was not to maintain the Spirit Wings constantly, but to activate them at the right moment.

On the third day, Hao Nhien returned to his attempt to compress wind-aspected qi into a cutting edge.

This time, he could maintain the structure for longer. A thin current left his fingertips, crossed several zhang, and carved a shallow line into the surface of a stone.

He studied the mark for quite some time.

“You can’t see the blade, only what it leaves behind...”

After thinking for a moment, he smiled.

“For now, I’ll call it the Invisible Wind Blade.”

The name was only temporary. What mattered more was learning how to keep the blade condensed long enough to be useful.

Most of the next two days were spent repeating similar experiments.

By the fifth day, the Invisible Wind Blade could travel farther, and its speed had increased noticeably. Standing on a rock beside the stream, Hao Nhien compressed true qi between two fingers and swept his hand outward. An almost invisible line of air skimmed across the water and struck a boulder on the opposite bank.

A long cut appeared across its surface.

The depth was not extraordinary, but the cut itself was remarkably smooth.

Five days passed in this manner. No powerful demonic beasts disturbed him, and no other disciples appeared. There was only wind, water, stone, and a lone figure constantly refining his newly gained power.

At the end of the fifth day, Hao Nhien sat outside the cave.

The sky above the Spirit Beast Forest remained dark, though its brightness had shifted slightly with the familiar cycle of the secret realm. Mountain wind moved through the trees, filling the surroundings with a prolonged rustling.

He looked toward the direction Quan Nha had taken.

According to their agreed time, she should already have returned.

Hao Nhien waited a little longer.

By the sixth morning, there was still no sign of her.

He rose, stepped out from the cave, and looked toward the mountain range she had entered earlier. This time, he did not continue waiting.

She might simply have been delayed by some fortuitous encounter.

Or she might have run into trouble. After what Hao Nhien had seen in the remnant vision of the Spirit Wings, he was unwilling to gamble for much longer.

He had gone only a short distance when his pace slowed.

The wind ahead carried a very faint scent. It was neither vegetation nor anything familiar from around the cave.

Hao Nhien stopped and let the current pass him once more.

Blood.

The scent was extremely faint, but it was enough to change his expression.

He looked toward the depths of the mountain range.

Something had happened.