In less than five minutes, hundreds of Masters appeared and disappeared in Hadjar’s mind. They showed Hadjar such a level of proficiency with the sword that he looked like a silly boy brandishing a wooden sword by comparison.
“What level of swordsmanship did these Masters reach?” Hadjar asked, stopping the endless stream of images.
Chapter 403
“I don’t know, Darkhan.” It was odd, but she kept calling him by his Name, the one given to him by the Bedouin shaman. Although Hadjar now presumed that the Bedouin had fished it out of the World River and hadn’t actually come up with it. The red tattoo on his arm, where his Name was forever imprinted, confirmed his theory.
“I would advise you to choose the ‘Half-moon Sword’ scroll.”
Hadjar remembered the Master who, with a single swing of his sword, had cut through the moonlight. With one attack, he’d cut through all the defenses and armor of every warrior he’d faced. It was a short, light swing that contained so much speed and power that it left even the ‘Three Sword Rays’ Technique in the dust. The latter was a ranged attack, while the ‘Half-moon Sword’ was intended for use in melee, which is why it might’ve been less appealing to some.
By the Evening Stars, if List had suggested it only a week ago, Hadjar would’ve agreed without hesitation. Of course, what he’d seen amazed him. It even opened new horizons for his understanding of the Way of the Sword Spirit. But at the same time, he felt disappointed.
In his spatial ring, he had a scroll that depicted, as Hadjar now knew, the Black General. An ordinary swing, devoid of any grace or Technique, of the Enemy’s sword contained more power, speed, and essence of the Sword Spirit than all the Techniques Hadjar had seen combined.
“I know what you really want, Darkhan.” The girl sighed a little sadly.
This time, no new Master or Technique appeared in Hadjar’s mind. Instead, the girl handed him a small clay tablet. It was covered in strange patterns and exuded eternity itself. Such an inconspicuous artifact could’ve easily been the ‘grandfather’ of the library’s three golems, it was so ancient.
“I don’t know this language,” Hadjar said, running his fingers along the patterns, “and I don’t think there’s anyone alive who can translate it for me.”
“If you choose this tablet, I can. It’s my task to help you choose what information you want and then provide access to it.”
Hadjar looked into Erra’s eyes, but he couldn’t bear the pressure of time itself staring back at him. Even for him, it was too much.
“What is it?”
“Nothing special,” List shrugged. “You could learn this in any decent school of swordsmanship.”
“Then why should I pick it?” Hadjar asked. “I’m going to such a school anyway.”
“Because, Darkhan, true knowledge is something you teach yourself. There’s something in this scroll I can’t explain. It’s a very simple, but at the same time, amazing way of meditation. It’ll help you see beyond what is visible to the naked eye in the Sword Spirit’s realm. It’ll help you not only absorb the knowledge gained during your battles, but also allow you to improve through observation.”
“I can already do that,” Hadjar insisted. “Just like any other practitioner. Even without the help of schools or sects.”
“Yes, but can you deepen your understanding of the sword just by looking at a statue or... a painting?”
Erra squinted at Hadjar’s ring.
“This Technique has no name,” she added.
“What about its creator?”
“Who knows?” Erra shrugged. “The language of this tablet is older than the air you breathe. The one who created it was at the pinnacle of wisdom. Only the priests can tell you about those times, Darkhan. Only the priests of the gods have records so ancient that they can pierce through the veil of time itself.”
Again, Hadjar was being directed toward the Land of the Immortals. Fate had mocked him from the very beginning of his journey, nudging him toward the land of all-powerful cultivators with amusement.
If Hadjar had been a simple, everyday practitioner, he would’ve refused the ‘pig in a poke’ and opted for one of the powerful Techniques he’d already been shown. However, Hadjar… gripped the hilt of his sword tightly and held out his hand. For most of his life, all he’d had was his sword and his word. By the Evening Stars, it would be difficult to say which was stronger — Hadjar’s word or the steel in his hands. Whatever the obstacle was, be it a lack of knowledge or money, fate interfering, or enemies he had to deal with, he would conquer everything with his own hands and his sword. He could find Sword Techniques in the Empire. If he found none there, he would go to the Land of the Immortals. If even that proved pointless, he would create them himself. Even if it took millennia, he wouldn’t be stopped by anything until he reached his goal. Nothing would ever make his willpower waver, or halt his stride. No demons, no gods, no ancient mysteries.
“I choose the nameless tablet.”
As soon as he said the words, Hadjar realized he was standing on the cold stone floor of the library. The ocean of white light evaporated and was replaced by the lake of blue light that illuminated the ancient books. He was back on the balcony, staring at a book spinning in a sphere of light.
“And where-”
Hadjar didn’t even get to ask about the tablet. The realization that it was in his spatial ring came as abruptly as the knowledge of its contents. It was indeed a very simple way of meditation.
The writing on the tablet began with this phrase:
‘A swordsman holds the hilt of a sword and follows its path. All they see before them is that path. Everything they carry in their heart, they carry with them as they walk along this path.’
Hadjar sensed that this was wisdom beyond his reach, so he decided to focus on the meditation itself. Fortunately, the next paragraph had a very simple and concise explanation of what one needed to do to be able to ‘bite off’ a piece of knowledge that could be found in everything.
The author of the text explained that a real ‘wielder of the sword’ would be able to feel the presence of the Sword Spirit even in the flap of a swallow’s wing. At some point, they would no longer need any teachers or masters, as there was no better teacher than the world itself and the person who contemplated it.
Einen had also received his ‘award’. He’d even managed to sit down in a lotus position and was now breathing in and out slowly.
“How much time do we have?” Hadjar asked.
“Seven minutes,” Erra said without turning around. “Then the sun will rise and the battle between light and darkness will begin.”
Without bothering to delve into the deeper meaning of the ancient creature’s allegory, Hadjar followed his friend’s example. He sat down in a lotus position and visualized the scroll depicting the Black General.
Hadjar didn’t risk taking it out and observing the actual scroll. Last time he’d done so, he’d almost died. He didn’t want to check whether anything had changed thanks to the help of the unnamed Technique.
Of course, seven minutes wasn’t enough to properly study the Technique and the scroll. Hadjar doubted he could finish studying them in less than a year and a half. But he still had enough time to reach the most basic level of understanding.