"Hold your saber tight!"
Shi Ming reminded him as the branch in his hand swept toward Huo Zhuang. Unable to dodge in time, the boy took a solid hit, but his eyes lit up. He didn't hesitate, using his Bone Saber to launch a counterattack. But Shi Ming simply sidestepped, easily avoiding the blow. The branch then curved in mid-air, striking at the boy's waist.
"The second phrase: a weapon can be deceptive, but its force can be traced."
Of course, he was speaking the tribe's language.
The meaning was that while a blade could be used for feints, the flow of power had a traceable path. A martial artist must not only pay attention to an opponent's moves but also be wary of how their power is channeled. By observing the flow of power, one could grasp the enemy's true intentions.
This was a lesson in combat.
With a branch against a Bone Saber, the boy had already "died" nearly a hundred times in just a few dozen minutes.
