Reflecting on the day's sparring, I could no longer sit still. I grabbed Ling Feng in the courtyard and began practicing the forms. Step forward, lunge, evade, retreat—I battled an imaginary foe over and over, meticulously feeling the trajectory of the sword movements as I practiced.

In my understanding, fencing was an extremely specialized form of attack, relying solely on the thrust. This inherently created drawbacks: the point of attack was too singular, the set of techniques was unsuitable for group combat, and weak defense was its greatest flaw. Of course, if one could effectively integrate footwork and agility in actual combat, these deficiencies could be completely overcome. I knew that until my strength improved, this sword style was undoubtedly the most suitable for me. If I could refine it further, overcoming the vulnerabilities of weak defense and singular attack points, this style would become truly perfect. Thinking of this, I involuntarily recalled the fencing theories and training methods that Long Ge and Tian Tian had taught me back in my previous life. Fencing was truly about achieving victory through ultra-fast blade deployment, nimble footwork, and agile movement. Tian Tian’s specialty was the peerless One Sword, Three Lines technique. Sometimes, he would drag me along to practice with him, and over time, I managed to pick up some basic footwork and attack methods. I even learned about fifty percent of Tian Tian's One Sword, Three Lines. Although my frequency of attack wasn't as insane as his, it was more than sufficient against ordinary opponents. Lost in thought, I settled into a stance and began practicing One Sword, Three Lines.

Swish, swish, swish! Three consecutive thrusts aimed at three different points. One Sword, Three Lines is executed through a specialized hand technique, demanding immense wrist strength. Previously, I could barely manage three thrusts in under 0.3 seconds. To my surprise, however, this body could execute the One Sword, Three Lines movement with surprising ease. This discovery filled me with elation. Clearly, the more than three months of hard training had not been in vain. Though young, the flexibility of my wrist was far superior to my previous life. Rotating and snapping the wrist felt almost effortless. In high spirits, I focused entirely on practicing One Sword, Three Lines. Although I lacked a timer, I was certain that the time I was taking now was around 0.5 seconds. I believed Tian Tian would be utterly shocked if he could see my current execution—especially considering I was wielding the twenty-jin Ling Feng sword. If I were using a proper épée, my speed could likely be even faster. This frequency was already approaching that of a professional fencer. I never imagined that this seemingly frail body harbored such immense potential for sword fighting.

It seemed this One Sword, Three Lines specialty could finally be put to good use. If combined with proper footwork and movement, its practical combat value would increase dramatically.

I stopped and pondered deeply, but couldn't formulate a clear plan immediately. However, one thing was certain: it would be difficult to unleash the true power of fencing techniques with the Ling Feng sword in hand. Perhaps I should forge a dedicated fencing blade. If the hilt and the guard could be integrated into a single unit, it would certainly enhance defense significantly. This was the quickest shortcut I could think of, given my poor physical strength. Since strength was lacking, I had to rely on the extreme speed of a fencing blade and simple combinations of techniques to maximize lethal effect. It looked like I needed to pay a visit to Blacksmith Wei Uncle tomorrow. But before that, I needed to draw up the blueprints for the fencing blade. With that thought, I rushed back to my room and lit the oil lamp.

Traditional fencing involved three primary weapons: Foil: Composed of the grip, blade, and bell guard. The total length should not exceed 110 cm, and the weight should not exceed 500 grams. The blade shall be steel, with a length not exceeding 90 cm, and a rectangular cross-section. The grip length should not exceed 20 cm. The guard is circular, positioned between the blade and the grip, with a diameter not exceeding 12 cm, and eccentricity is prohibited. There are electric foils and standard foils; the former has 15 cm of insulation at the tip of the blade, and the grip is insulated from the blade and the bell guard; the latter has a tip diameter between 5.5–7 mm and a length of about 1.5 cm. Épée: Composed of the grip, blade, and bell guard. The total length should not exceed 105 cm, and the weight should not exceed 500 grams. The blade shall be steel, with a length not exceeding 88 cm, possessing an edge and a back, with a square cross-section. The grip length should not exceed 17 cm. The bell guard is circular, sized so it can fit into a 15 cm × 14 cm rectangular testing tube along its diagonal. Épée: Composed of the grip, blade, and bell guard. The total length should not exceed 110 cm, and the weight should not exceed 770 grams. The blade shall be steel, with a length not exceeding 90 cm, and a triangular cross-section, with the blade’s widest flat surface not exceeding 2.4 mm. The grip length should not exceed 20 cm. The bell guard is circular, with a depth of 3–5.5 cm, a maximum diameter of 13.5 cm, and a maximum eccentricity of 3.5 cm.

However, the sword I designed differed significantly from the specialized competition swords of my previous life!

The blade length would be one meter thirty, about the thickness of my thumb, tapering to a fine point. The single-hand grip would be crescent-shaped, effectively protecting the wrist from injury. Since a competition épée has a round, unsharpened blade, getting into close quarters would be extremely troublesome. To avoid being helpless in melee range, I planned to add wolf-tooth-like spikes around the outside of the crescent wrist guard. This way, the hilt could serve not only for defense but also as a spiked gauntlet to strike opponents in close combat. Furthermore, my blade would be perfectly straight, unlike the slight eccentricity found in fencing blades. Frankly, fencing techniques rely mainly on rapid wrist snapping, coupled with the blade’s flexibility, to instantly deliver quick thrusts. While this method can strike an opponent with astonishing speed, its killing power is pitifully low. It would be impossible to defeat an opponent like Chen Feng using such an approach; this was not a competition, but a true fight for survival. The competitive style wouldn't work. The only aspects worth borrowing were the rapid attack speed and flexible footwork. Therefore, the key, the most crucial part, was enhancing the killing power of the fencing style. While my designed sword shared some similarities with a competition épée, its actual killing potential would be far more terrifying because its ultimate goal was not to touch the opponent, but to pierce them.

After sketching for over half an hour, I finally finished the blueprints for the fencing blade. Considering my height and strength, I divided the weight into three ascending tiers: Heavy Sword, Light Sword, and a Medium Sword balancing between the two. Three swords in total. The Heavy Sword would be 1.3 meters long and weigh twelve jin. The Light Sword’s length would be shortened to one meter, also only as thick as my thumb. The steel gauntlet hilt assembly would weigh four jin. The Medium Sword would be 1.3 meters long and weigh eight jin. I was quite satisfied with these three creations.

The next day, during morning practice, I was, as usual, utterly routed by the sparring juniors. It wasn't that I didn't want to discipline them; it was simply that the previous two hours of form practice had completely drained my stamina. By the end, I could barely hold my sword, let alone fight them effectively. Chen Feng watched me with sheer bewilderment, clearly more confused about my actual strength, especially since I had told him last night that I had killed over seventy scarecrows. Judging by his expression, he definitely thought I was boasting and shot me a look full of ill intent.

However, after morning practice, I didn't run home; I headed straight for Blacksmith Wei Uncle’s shop.

“Morning!” I arrived just as Uncle Wei was opening up. Uncle Wei was about fifty, stout and broad, with muscle knots the size of small rats on both arms—a sight that always made me envious. Those were genuine lumps of muscle, containing power levels well beyond a large engine.

“Morning, Xiao Man!” Uncle Wei greeted me warmly after unlocking the door, though he found my early arrival strange.

“I need you to forge three swords for me!” I handed him the blueprints.

“Strange! What kind of sword is this?” Uncle Wei’s bullseye eyes widened in confusion. He had clearly never seen a modern fencing épée.

“Swords I designed!” I didn't want to explain; even if I tried, it would be hard to articulate, as the principles of fencing had almost nothing in common with the traditional warrior skills of the Fama Continent.

“Is this… really a sword?” Uncle Wei hesitated.

“Yes, it’s called a fencing blade. Could you forge three good ones for me according to the plans?”

“Sigh! Alright then.” Though he couldn't fathom what this strange rod was, he agreed. “What material will you use?”

“Hmm! It needs to be hard, sturdy, and possess a degree of flexibility and resilience!” I added.

“In that case, let’s use Black Iron mixed with copper and silver! That combination of materials should perfectly meet your requirements,” Uncle Wei suggested.

“Fine!” I trusted Uncle Wei’s blacksmithing skills implicitly.

“Based on volume, the three swords will require twenty-four jin of material! How about I charge you 90 silver coins? I’ll count it as helping my first customer of the day,” Uncle Wei chuckled.

“Okay!” I happily nodded, quickly handing over the silver coins in my pouch. “When will they be ready?”

“At noon, you can pick them up!” Uncle Wei replied.

“Then I’ll be heading back now!” I hurried out of the smithy. If I guessed right, Chen Feng would be waiting right outside my door, expecting me to have been lying and waiting to mock me.

“Strange things, they call that a sword?” Uncle Wei studied the blueprints doubtfully.

Just as I expected, Chen Feng was waiting for me. As I approached the gate, Feng was chatting with my mother. I ignored him and went straight to the dining table.

Sensing the odd atmosphere, Mother looked at me questioningly, then at Chen Feng.

“Um! Well! Man’s performance today was poor! I told him a few things!” Chen Feng explained with a strained smile.

“Is that so?” Mother looked enlightened. “Xiao Man, your Brother Feng only said a few things to you, look how upset you are.” Mother’s expressive eyes clearly conveyed her disapproval of me.

Chen Feng was clearly telling blatant lies, and Mother actually believed him. I didn't want to argue. At this moment, I was desperate to see Chen Feng’s astonished expression when he witnessed me easily slaughtering the scarecrows. Thinking this, I couldn't bother explaining further and rapidly cleared the food on the table at three times my usual speed.

“This child!” My actions made Mother think I was still angry, and she could only shake her head helplessly before giving Chen Feng an apologetic glance.

Chen Feng, meanwhile, looked sheepish.

“Hmph! Let’s go!” After eating, I grabbed Chen Feng’s arm and pulled him out the door.

“Be back for lunch early, okay!” Mother called from the dining table, reminding me.

“Yeah! I will!”

“Xiao Man, come on, stop being angry! It’s my fault, alright!” Feng saw that I was carrying the Ling Feng sword, and realization dawned—I wasn't joking. He looked surprised, clearly worried that I was genuinely going to seek out the scarecrows for a fight out of indignation.

“Hmph! Stop looking down on people!” I snapped at him without turning back, continuing to run.

Helpless, Feng had no choice but to follow behind me.

Soon, we arrived at the place where I practiced swordplay yesterday. Not far away, a cluster of dozens of scarecrows was assembled—a scarecrow legion. I charged toward them without stopping.

“Hey! Wait!” Chen Feng was stunned by my actions. “That guy, he’s serious!” He immediately drew his saber and chased after me desperately.

“Hmph! Just wait and see!” I deliberately showed off, plunging straight into the thick mass of scarecrows.

“Ah! No, Xiao Man!” Chen Feng cried out in horror, boosting his speed.

But quickly, he was frozen by what he witnessed. Amidst the dense throng of straw figures, that small, blue silhouette flickered like a ghost, unsteady and elusive. Each flash left behind a dazzling burst of fire.

“This, this is impossible!” Feng stared blankly at the scene, clearly unable to accept the reality, even seeing it with his own eyes. “How, how is this possible! How could Xiao Man possess this kind of strength!”

Swish, swish, swish! I unleashed over ninety thrusts in quick succession, not a single one missing its mark. I felt that my performance today was even better than yesterday, perhaps because Feng was watching. Ninety scarecrows were reduced to fine black ash within five minutes. I triumphantly raised the Ling Feng in my hand and walked over to Feng.

“Do you believe me now!”

But I found Chen Feng staring at me blankly, his gaze exceptionally strange, as if looking at an unbelievable monster. His mouth hung open wide—wide enough to fit my fist inside.

“Hey! Wake up!” I waved my hand in front of Chen Feng’s face.

“Genius!” Chen Feng exclaimed excitedly, grabbing me. “You truly are a genius!”

“I’ve known that for a long time!” I glared at Feng irritably.

“I never thought a sword could be used like this!” Feng gazed at me stupidly. “You really are a genius, but why did you perform so weakly during morning practice!”

“And you have the nerve to ask!” I couldn’t help but deliver a sharp rap to his head. To my surprise, I actually hit him this time—he was usually slipperier than a loach. It seemed today’s events had struck him so hard that his agility had severely plummeted. Rubbing his stinging forehead, I said, “I was worn out by two hours of practice sparring; even an ox would be exhausted, and you expect me to perform well!”

“Ah! So that’s how it is!” Chen Feng looked suddenly enlightened. “It was a lack of stamina! That makes sense!”

“You believe me now, don’t you?” I preened slightly.

“Yes, I admit, I underestimated you,” Feng said with a serious expression.

“Good that you know!”

“Actually, I’m very curious about the sword technique you just used,” Feng sounded hesitant. “Could you use that attack method on me? Don’t worry, I won’t counterattack.”

“You said that!” I looked at Feng with a mischievous grin. I had anticipated this outcome; Feng, who was obsessed with martial arts, couldn't possibly pass up witnessing such a marvelous sword style. This was also what I desired—my goal was simple: to gain Chen Feng’s respect. Being treated like a child by him was deeply uncomfortable for me, given my psychological age of twenty-two. Furthermore, I had gained a sparring partner, which would be extremely helpful for future improvement.

I dropped the pleasantries. “Be careful, I’m about to attack!”

“Bring it on!” Feng held his saber across his chest, displaying martial honor!

Hmph! I dipped low into a stepping lunge, snapped my wrist, and instantly, three sword shadows flashed out with incredible speed, aiming for Feng’s throat, chest, and lower abdomen. The fencing One Sword, Three Lines was pushed to its absolute limit at that moment. It was as if three long swords struck out simultaneously, blurring the real from the feint.

Ah! Chen Feng’s expression changed drastically. As he blocked with his saber, he rapidly stepped back.

But having secured the initiative, I didn't stop. Fencing attacks proceed along straight lines, targeting the face, throat, chest, abdomen, down to the thighs and shins—any point along the straight line of attack could be a target. Thus, if the frequency of thrusts was fast enough, it was nearly impossible to defend against. Especially for Feng, who had never encountered fencing techniques, he was utterly overwhelmed by my storm of attacks.

Moreover, Chen Feng’s Zhanmadao rarely even had a chance to touch my sword, as I retracted my blade with extreme speed almost immediately after every thrust. Deliberately trying to embarrass Chen Feng, I refused to give up this rare opportunity. Moving forward with rapid straight-line steps, my sword frantically attacked various parts of Feng’s body. After three months of rigorous practice, my wrist flexibility now surpassed that of my previous life, and the One Sword, Three Lines skill came naturally. The fierce assault left Chen Feng with little option but rapid retreat.

Swish! Another stepping lunge followed by One Sword, Three Lines disrupted Feng’s footwork with my rapid pursuit. He nearly lost his balance and found my sharp point aimed at his chest.

Staring at the tip of the sword hovering near his chest, Chen Feng’s face instantly turned ashen. He looked at me in disbelief. “Wh-What kind of sword style is this! How can it be so fast!”

I knew this strike had impacted him severely. “Heh heh! This is called Fencing, understand?”

“Fencing! I’ve never heard of it!” Feng looked utterly bewildered, yet thoughtful.

“Stop thinking about it; you wouldn't have heard of this style!” I declared proudly. “How about this: you can counterattack now, but without using Dou Qi. Shall we try again?”

“Alright then!” Feng adopted a grave stance, holding his saber across his chest. Clearly, that single thrust had made him realize he could no longer look down on me. This time, he was serious. In this moment, Chen Feng finally displayed the strength expected of a high-level warrior.

Just standing there, he exuded an almost suffocating pressure. For a moment, I felt at a loss for how to begin. I knew that Feng, a veteran of countless battles, was not easy to deal with once he focused. I had to strike first; only by forcing him to act could I lure out a weakness.

Swish! A step forward, a straight thrust, a lightning-quick strike aimed directly at Feng’s face.

Hmph! Feng tilted his head slightly and dodged the thrust. However, this time I shifted the One Sword, Three Lines from sequential points to horizontally moving targets. Meaning, no matter where Feng shifted his head, he remained within my range of attack. The result was that Feng’s evasive movement seemed to guide his head right onto the tip of my blade.

Ah! This sudden change shocked Feng greatly. In a flash of lightning and thunder, Feng leaned sharply backward, narrowly avoiding the strike. But another series of sharp, tearing sounds followed—the mysterious Ling Feng sword stabbed toward Chen Feng’s abdomen.

Roar! Feng realized that purely relying on evasion would make it impossible to avoid this style of three-point attack. With a violent backward step, he brought his Zhanmadao down in a chopping motion. A fierce wave of blade energy rushed toward me.

What an overbearing slash. I was slightly taken aback, but I was prepared for Chen Feng's move. Almost as he brought his blade down toward my head, I sidestepped quickly, evading the blow. My Lingfeng Sword, however, did not lose any speed as it lunged toward Feng's chest and lower abdomen. One must remember that in fencing’s ‘one sword, three lines,’ each attack targets three arbitrary points on a flat plane, utilizing the simplest, yet fastest, straight thrust—a technique exceedingly difficult to defend against. Other than creating distance, it is very hard to counter by other means. Chen Feng, however, didn't realize this point and still resorted to traditional martial arts skills from the Fama Continent, parrying left and right. With astonishing speed, he managed to block my three strikes again.

However, I would not relax for a moment. My ‘one sword, three lines’ attack never ceased. Whenever I felt the need to pause, I would quickly retreat beyond the range of Feng’s broadsword. Fencing demands extremely precise footwork control; one can advance to attack or retreat to defend. As long as one masters this range, transitioning effortlessly between offense and defense is possible, causing the opportunity for Feng to launch a counter-attack to vanish. And as soon as I managed to catch my breath, my assault would resume.

In truth, my attack pattern was quite simple: every thrust initiated by a stepping motion was divided into four segments, each segment employing the ‘one sword, three lines’ technique. The movement of the attack was divided across four planes: horizontal, vertical, diagonal left, and diagonal right. The connections between these segments were incredibly tight, leaving absolutely no opportunity for the opponent to counter-attack. Furthermore, the moment my four-segment attack missed its mark, I would already have leaped back to a safe distance, simultaneously granting myself a brief respite.

In essence, every wave of my offense consisted of twelve thrusts, targeting any twelve points I could reach. During this sequence, any counter-attack from the enemy would be tantamount to suicide. This is because the speed and density of fencing attacks are astonishing. An opponent attempting to counter while defending will encounter a subtle time lag—a minuscule gap that is sufficient to create a fatal opening. Given Chen Feng's combat intuition, which far surpasses that of ordinary men, it was impossible for him to make such a mistake. Nevertheless, by seizing the initiative in this manner, I was virtually untouchable. Once the twelve thrusts failed to connect, I was safely out of Feng's range, simultaneously preparing for the next wave of attacks. It could be said that this method of attack was rather sneaky, making it seem as if I were perpetually on the offensive.

In fact, fencing itself embodies profound mathematical principles, utilizing probability theory and trigonometry. This approach minimized the possibility of the opponent successfully counter-attacking. In a sense, fencing is the most suitable combat style for one-on-one duels. In my previous life, because I trained daily with Long Ge as a national fencing team member, and influenced by them, I understood fencing to some degree. Though I was reluctant to admit it, it was regrettable that neither the Eastern sword styles of Japan, nor the national treasures of Chinese martial arts—the blade, spear, sword, and staff—could easily gain an advantage against a skilled fencer.

In the underground Black Warrior Weaponry group competitions, fencers have always held the champion's throne. This is factual; I witnessed the underground martial artists’ contests where any weapon, provided it wasn't a firearm like a handgun, was permitted. I once saw a single fencing swordsman defeat six opponents in a row to take the championship. The lightning-fast speed of his draws, coupled with his unpredictable and nimble footwork and movement, left a deep impression on me.

For Chen Feng, who had never encountered this style of attack, my assault was like a tempest—almost without pause—and the placement of every strike was impossible to defend against. Such an attack pattern was simply unheard of.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang

A string of sharp metallic sounds erupted as countless dazzling electric sparks flew forth at the moment of blade and sword contact. All twelve of my continuous thrusts had actually been blocked by Chen Feng. Across from me, Chen Feng stared at me with an expression of utter shock. Yet, he could not know that the shock I felt internally was no less than his own.

This man actually failed to retreat and utilize spatial distance to evade my attacks; instead, he relied on superior reaction time and speed to solidly block all twelve of my strikes. Such reflexive ability completely stunned me. Up to this point, I had unleashed ten waves of continuous attack—meaning I had thrust one hundred and twenty times—and every single one had been parried by him. Such reflexes were unattainable even for professional fencers like Tian Tian and Long Ge! Heavens, what kind of monster is this fellow?