16 Empathy in Full Measure

Coming down from the mountain, it was already late at night. Since they hadn’t managed to fight, they simply enjoyed the moonlight on the slope before descending and returning to the horse ranch. Guo Songyang then asked Tian Yu if she had time tomorrow.

She thought for a moment and told him about her plans to coach Ma Kongqun during the day. Then she added, “But tomorrow night should be fine.”

He was very pleased. “Then I’ll come find Miss Bai tomorrow night.”

Tian Yu replied, “Sure, do you want to pick the place again?”

“Alright,” he agreed immediately.

After that, they each returned to their own quarters to rest.

The next morning, Tian Yu, who rarely stayed up late, woke up punctually. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to sleep in; it was just that ever since she began practicing the Northern Darkness Divine Skill, sleeping late became impossible.

She had to follow Wu Ya Zi’s instructions and practice this skill three times a day—at the hours of Mao, Wu, and You. Missing even one session would cause headaches and heartaches—though the pain was never too severe, the idea of a peaceful, uninterrupted sleep was just a dream.

When Ma Kongqun arrived, she had just finished her practice for the Mao hour and felt much more refreshed than when she first woke up—one of the advantages of the Northern Darkness Divine Skill was that as long as you practiced on time, you’d stay energetic and focused with ease.

“Why that expression?” she asked, noticing Ma Kongqun’s anxious face. “Regretting asking me for guidance?”

“Absolutely not!” he denied outright. But after denying, he hesitated, seeming reluctant to speak.

Tian Yu looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

Sure enough, after a moment’s hesitation, he scratched his head and whispered, “But my arms ache unbearably. I’m afraid I won’t meet your expectations today…”

Tian Yu was unsurprised. She simply raised her hand, signaling him to come over.

He was still uneasy but obedient.

“Miss Bai?” he asked.

“I forgot to remind you yesterday,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “After practicing the blade with me, you can’t just lie down and sleep right away.”

As soon as she spoke, she suddenly applied pressure to his shoulder.

Ma Kongqun immediately cried out in surprise.

“Relax,” she said while pressing down, “If you keep your body so tense, you’ll only hurt more.”

Tears welled in his eyes from the pain, his face contorted. “I... I don’t know how to relax... ahhh—”

“Think of something else, distract yourself,” Tian Yu advised sincerely, drawing from her own experience without thinking twice.

But he took her words so seriously that, out of nervousness, he instinctively stared at her.

Tian Yu was two years older and slightly taller. Standing beside him, pressing his shoulder, when he turned his head, he could see her delicate profile.

Her complexion wasn’t particularly pale, but under the sunlight, her skin had a warm, jade-like glow.

As she moved, her ponytail swayed behind her, shimmering with light and shadow, causing him to catch his breath.

In that moment, Ma Kongqun’s attention shifted completely, and the pain from his shoulder seemed to fade into the background.

Noticing he had truly relaxed, Tian Yu felt relieved and pressed harder.

Another sharp scream followed.

Ma Kongqun finally cried tears from the pain.

“Miss Bai...” he whimpered, “How much longer will you press?”

Tian Yu kept moving her hands. “Almost done. Once I finish, the soreness will be gone.”

After more than a quarter of an hour, she stopped.

His expression transformed from unbearable pain to the clear-headed vigor he had shown days before.

Amazed, he swung his arm around and exclaimed, “Miss Bai, you’re amazing!”

Tian Yu pursed her lips. “I went through the same when I first learned the blade. Once you correct the bad habits, it gets better.”

He blinked, eyes sparkling. “Will you help me correct them all?”

Tian Yu paused, then asked, “Why? Afraid I’ll stop teaching halfway and run off?”

Ma Kongqun lowered his eyes, sounding somewhat dejected. “My father said you wouldn’t stay here long.”

That was true.

Before arriving at the Ma family ranch, Tian Yu had told Mr. Ma she was only visiting for a few days and wouldn’t stay long, so he needn’t worry too much about hosting her.

She had planned to travel around the northeast while the weather was warm, before the excitement of the Divine Blade Tournament ended.

Mr. Ma’s ranch was her first stop.

She hadn’t expected to be able to coach his son at the same time.

Since she was already teaching him, that was a different matter altogether.

“I really won’t stay long,” she said, sensing his test in those words. “But rest assured, since I promised to coach you, I won’t leave before finishing what I need to teach.”

Ma Kongqun let out a long breath on hearing that and smiled brightly as he resumed practicing his blade.

By the end of the day, he was still quite exhausted.

But he remembered her advice and diligently stretched and relaxed his muscles before resting.

Meanwhile, Tian Yu and Guo Songyang left the ranch again.

Guo Songyang said he had chosen a place for their duel and asked if she was willing to go. She didn’t ask where and simply nodded, following him out.

They each rode a horse and after about forty-five minutes reached a mountain valley.

Tian Yu was surprised to hear the sound of water.

Entering the valley, she saw a waterfall cascading down the cliff.

At this time of year, snow melted on the mountain, causing rivers at the base to swell.

Below the waterfall, a clear stream rushed out of the valley, water rushing violently like scattered pearls splashing jade.

Tian Yu looked at Guo Songyang and asked, “You’re not thinking of dueling me under the waterfall, are you?”

He paused, then laughed. “I hadn’t planned that, but since you mention it, it might not be a bad idea.”

“The turbulent waters beneath the falls are like blades, testing the duelist’s state of mind,” she said.

“No way,” she immediately refused. “I don’t want to go back soaking wet.”

Guo Songyang was taken aback but sincerely apologized for not considering it fully.

She waved her hand, saying it was no problem.

She dismounted first.

The place was quiet; though the scenery wasn’t as enchanting as last night, it had its own charm.

The moon was still full, reflected in the water, providing plenty of light.

By the water’s edge, they began their duel with simple swords and blades.

For Tian Yu, not relying on the advantage of weapons was no big deal.

Before obtaining the Deer Cutter Blade, she had trained with blades she forged herself.

Because she made them herself, she wasn’t attached if they bent or chipped—she could melt and remake them anytime.

Over time, she developed a unique skill that ordinary swordsmen or bladesmen lacked: no matter what kind of blade she held, she could quickly adapt.

In contrast, Guo Songyang was less comfortable with the sword he held, which was not quite suited to him.

Tian Yu seized this weakness and launched a fierce assault.

Her blade flashed lightly; her attacks were swift. Within three moves, she controlled the pace of the duel.

When she sped up, he had to match her pace; when she slowed, he had no choice but to slow as well.

But Guo Songyang’s iron sword was worthy of its name.

Though on the back foot, he didn’t concede easily.

As he became more accustomed to his sword, his moves grew more fluid and graceful.

Their swords clashed repeatedly, the sounds echoing through the valley.

The rhythmic ringing mixed with the waterfall’s roar, sounding like an ancient musical performance at first listen.

Tian Yu fought with great joy.

Guo Songyang did as well.

But in the end, there was a victor.

After 130 moves, when he revealed a momentary opening during a change of technique, she suddenly shifted her stance and struck with a reverse chop!

In that instant, her blade overwhelmed his sword, shaking his whole body and forcing him to retreat two steps.

After two steps, one of his feet stepped into the water.

Her next move arrived then.

Moonlight gleamed on her blade, which lightly swayed, pressing against the tip of his sword.

Her wrist flicked, and his sword bent sharply aside, while her blade naturally came to rest at his neck.

“I win,” she smiled at him.

“Yes,” he admitted readily. “Miss Bai, your blade technique is superb. I’m no match.”

Tian Yu sheathed her blade, thinking for a moment before adding, “But losing that iron sword affects you more than me changing blades.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you probably started learning the sword on your own and have been using the same sword all along.”

“That’s not the case,” he suddenly chuckled. “I started sword training at five and continued until ten, when I received the family’s iron sword from my father.”

“Before that, even if I wanted to use a sword, it was too heavy for me to lift.”

Tian Yu was speechless—she had forgotten this detail.

“That was my oversight,” she explained to herself. “I started learning the blade at nine and naturally assumed you began sword training around the same age.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Miss Bai started blade training at nine?”

Tian Yu nodded. “Yes.”

“So that means you’ve only trained six years?” he mused. “I’ve studied the sword for fourteen years and consider my skill exceptional, but compared to you…”

Tian Yu hadn’t expected that her attempt to comfort him would backfire and discourage him.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Fortunately, Guo Songyang composed himself after a moment and said, “I lost my composure.”

“The martial world is vast; there will always be someone better. I know this well, but I still got caught up in it, making Miss Bai laugh at me.”

“No, not at all,” she shook her head, denying it with surprising sincerity. “When people put in effort, they naturally hope for results. How could that be called foolish?”

Just like in her previous life, despite starring in countless films and being praised for acting skill, dedication, and beauty, she never became famous.

It took her a long time to overcome those feelings of disbelief.

Now, having skills that might make others ask “Why her?”, she certainly didn’t think those who doubted themselves were simply lacking resolve and overthinking.

She empathized deeply.

“If you’re feeling frustrated, why not scold me a bit?” she joked. “Maybe you’ll feel better.”

Guo Songyang was speechless.

Unconsciously, he smiled at her joke.

“Thank you for your comfort, Miss Bai,” he said, looking at her with a heart leaping as if he were back to last night. “But if I, the loser, still brag shamelessly, then I truly don’t deserve to be compared to you.”

He was handsome, with a sharp and aloof aura, much like his sword.

But at this moment, beneath the distant moon and towering mountains, standing by the water, he looked at her quietly, his proud gray eyes softening.

He couldn’t help but wonder: after losing twice in a row, he should feel down, yet why did his heart feel inexplicably joyful?