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Elder, your waist, a third time.

(Clenches his waist, quite unwillingly) For revenge...

Hey. As soon as you move your waist, your legs go out of sync.

(The veins of his temple bulge) Must...hold...on...

'The tip of your sword' is drooping too low. Let's reset the timer.

This is only a wooden staff...

There is a sword in your heart. What do you need a physical sword for? Your legs are wrong again. Reset the timer.

Again?! Your words are gentle, but your methods are harsh! Who did you learn that from?!

Every kung fu principle I learned, I learned from my master.

I'm talking about your torture methods!

Mind and form are unified, of the same lineage and source.

Ha! It looks like you did suffer under your master, an unreasonable man, a man who spoke no words of reason.

I know you are kidding, elder. However, it is true that my master 'spoke no words of reason.' After all, the most vital truths cannot be 'spoken' into understanding.

Instead, he let me learn reason myself.

Qingping, straighten your waist. Use the power from your hips to deliver your sword forward.

Your breaths are uneasy once again. Do you need to rest?

No. I can keep going. You asked me to practice with you, master. I should be thankful and not complain.

Do you have any doubts in your heart?

Yes. I do. Master, don't you think someone like me looks completely out of place here on the training ground?

Everyone else is swinging huge swords and axes, but you're just making me hold this little twig like it's a sword. While they're slashing and hacking away at wooden dummies, I'm stuck poking this big stone with this flimsy little branch...

Admittedly, the only thing I can lift is this dry little twig, but it's so fragile that even the slightest bit of force snaps it or smashes it into powder.

Master, you've tasked me with moving a stone that is almost my height, with nothing but a dry twig. I am here every day, practicing only this... Is this not... wasted effort?

How can I ever hope to move a giant stone with just a small twig?

I should have explained it all to you earlier, but let me ask you, have I ever been neglectful in your training?

No. Never.

Master, you mean, you really believe I can do this?

Water flows over stone, the wind blows over through the hills—what has ever truly blocked their path?

Water flows over stone, the wind blows over through the hills, but....

I understand. Water flows over stone instead of confronting it directly. Moving this stone requires 'soft strength'.

I must lead with my legs, then my hips, and then my arms...

The wind blows over through the hills. Master, you mean I must use agility and a 'light touch'.

I must center my breath in my core and identify its weak spots...

Ouch! My finger's all swollen!

It snapped!

It snapped again!

It's been three months... this cursed withered old wood! This stubborn boulder! These... worthless arms! Those damned bandits!

Using these withered twigs is a fool's errand!

(Sobs)

The heavens are not kind, and the raindrops show no mercy. The young man calms down, wipes his tears, picks up another withered twig amidst the rain, and walks towards the large rock that he has been struggling with for three months, to no avail.

I must use my lower half, my waist, then my arms. I'll use the strength from my hips to push this thing forward—

Legs, waist, arms... and push!

The rain keeps getting heavier. Listening to its falling raindrops, the boy calms down, without even realizing it. He focuses inward as usual, not noticing the water rising over his shoes.

The waterlogged earth feels unfamiliar underfoot, and even the twig feels slightly different in his hand. He absorbs it all, as the rain continues to fall.

Water flows over stone and moistens the soil below. I must harness that power and—

move the stone.

Yun opens his eyes. He has just shifted the rock, albeit by a small, nearly imperceptible distance. He lifts his head and gazes at the unending sky and the rain falling like rivers. He smiles, realizing that the rock was not as invincible as he thought.

After one month of practice

Elder, you've reached a new level in your practice. Tomorrow you may swap out this staff for your real sword.

At first, you were always honing that sword, but these past few days I haven't seen you working on it. Tonight, perhaps we should bring it out...

That's not necessary. I'll keep using this staff. It's convenient.

But eventually your hands must be in sync with your sword...

First I need to temper my killer instinct and focus on technique. That's why you had me put down my sword in the first place, right? I shall continue to work on 'tempering' if I wish. You need not concern yourself with that.

Very well.

After several months of practice

You're watching the fins again? Why are you making space for me? I don't want to watch them.

You're tired of watching the fins.

The river carries the fins, who shift and change as they dart through the water. When I understood what you were watching at the river, I was completely mesmerized. How could I ever grow tired of it?

It's just that every time I really focus on it, every trembling leaf, every ripple in the river, all of heaven and earth seem to pour into these old eyes. It's just too much to take in.

I really admire you for your ability to be so focused and yet also so calm. A master is still a master, and I am far from that.

Elder, can you go scoop up a fin for me?

Of course! What's so hard about that?

As the old man speaks, he doesn't strike the water with his palm but instead kneels down and carefully studies the current. Yun Qingping smiles.

Follow the water to follow the fins. The old man gently traces the current, and the fin softly leaps into the bucket beside Yun Qingping.

(Claps hands) Elder, this fin is our parting gift. Starting today, there's nothing more I can teach you.

Cultivate your mind and body. No one can teach you the road ahead—you have to walk it on your own. When I left the place where I grew up, my teacher told me the same thing.

Cultivate mind... and body... good, okay.

Then after we part ways here today, we might not cross paths again in the jianghu.

Yun Qingping isn't surprised when he hears this. He inclines his head with a smile in acknowledgment. The elder gives him a long, deep bow, already carrying a subtle air of newfound mastery.

He departs with a loud laugh, fading into the deep forest without a trace. The room that used to ring with the sounds of practice is now utterly empty.

The owner of the house sits quietly for a moment, then rises, taking only a few possessions before setting off to wander once more. He leaves behind only one thing: an old sword, slanted against the fading sunlight.