Tales Of The Clear Sky Dragon - Chapter 1 A Sliver Of Sword Inten

Barely at the dawn of the first daybreak, in the distant eastern regions of Holy Spirit Village, where the sun has just only risen, it then turned the sky a golden orangey colour.

The wheat field glistering in the embrace of the morning sunlight, as the thousands of acres wheat field’s whiskers bristled and about, it moves according to the direction of where the breeze is heading to.

On a small little hilltop adjacent to the Tang residence household was a small and thin silhouette. This was only a five or six years old child, though his appearance and demeanor completely differ from a normal typical child. His skin was a pale pastel lemon yellow colour, his black hair though unkempt it was neatly tied together with a cloth wrap.

And his clothes were ordinary and simple, though it had apparently been washed so many times that the colours start to fade out, and the cloth fabric starts to look worn out.

The boy carried a sheathed bamboo sword with him. The pace of his breathing then slowed down for a couple of seconds, relaxing every inch of muscles possible within his body, as his eyes stared unwaveringly at the empty forest scenery.

When it is time, he quickly unsheaths the wooden sword from the bamboo scabbard and throwing it to the side.

The boy’s frustration and desires then become unleashed, like a fierce crouching tiger hidden in the tall grass, as he swung the 24-inches long blade length of a wooden sword upwards diagonally, with all of his might.

The wooden blade then cuts straight through the air, bristling through like it was nothing, as the air current then bends and slid off the smooth surface of the wooden blade. Despite the wooden blade weighing no more than a kilogram or two, it felt quite weightless in the boy’s hands.

The wooden blade did not stop as it was being swung, once it has reached the top right-hand corner, the wooden blade then made a short u-turn, as it then descends downwards halfway, only stopping adjacent to the area of his chest.

From there, the boy then performs a quick sword thrust, as his right dominant leg then dashes a single step forward, his foot planted firmly against the ground.

His body then forcefully turned sideways and lowered to the ground slightly because of the sword stance, his left hand and arm are pointing in the opposite direction of the right but is well aligned with the right hand and point of the blade, whilst his head remains stationary, locked onto the point and direction of the blade.

The wooden blade pierced cleanly through the air, without an ounce of obstruction, as the boy then continues to perform the sword dance alone by himself, until exhaustion then wrecks his entire body.

The boy’s movement whilst wielding the wooden sword was not at all that amateurish; containing many years of experience with swinging a wooden sword, but no actual physical practical combat.

A swordsman without a solid foundation base and good swordsmanship will become utterly useless on the battlefield; no matter how good of a sword you have, or the material that it is made of is of better quality. Whilst in the hands of a trash swordmaster, the good sword will reduce to nothing more than a sharp metal stick.

After performing more than a hundred sword swing in less than an hour, without any rest in between, the boy finally stops swinging his wooden sword, and then falls hopelessly to the ground, on his butt.

The boy then lets go of the handle of the wooden blade, as he then places his left arm elbow over on his left knee, in order to support the weight of his left arm. And with his left hand, he then wipes the sweat and droplets off from his face, cheeks, and forehead, wiping on the ground soil.

With a dejected long sigh, he said so in great annoyance, “I really hate father so much, it’s like he doesn’t even see us as his own kids. If our appearance weren’t at all that similar, then I would have thought that we were some abandoned infants that was fortunately picked up on the streets by some lucky stranger, or even much less adopted.” The boy clearly suffered from signs of child neglect in his life, which seems to create some sort of unrestraint anger and frustration for his parental figure, all expressed within his swordsmanship.

The boy continuously swung the wooden blade, with such power in his tiny arms, in order to release all of that pent up frustration and anger he felt. As each day that goes by, his unrefined unsophisticated swordsmanship then becomes all the more refined, thereby is filled with such energy, motivation, and passion in order to move forwards.

Tang Qing was not at all like Tang San, he was not at all gifted with any abilities nor talent like his older twin brother. Neither was he a reincarnated person with otherworldly knowledge. Tang Qing was just an ordinary normal child, you could see commonly around in the village.

It wasn’t until he, fortunately, encountered a wandering sword spirit master, that his fate totally changed.

A wise old sage in his late forty to early fifties, with a head full of white-silver hair, adorned in plain white robes and simple clothing. Whilst, expressing a sense of disattachment to the materialistic world, and greed. He wore a plain simple face mask and scarf, covering the neck and lower regions of his face.

The wise old sage was a wandering traveler, at the same time, an aspiring scholar and medical doctor, who was traveling around the world seeking the knowledge of what the world has to offer. He saw that there were some great troubles that were troubling the young Tang Qing’s mind, a child who was always alone by himself, with zero friends, and a low sense of self-esteem.

So he opens his hands out towards the boy and seeks to resolve what was troubling the boy’s mind, kind of like a modern-day psychiatrist.

The wise old sage then found out the root cause of Tang Qing’s low self-esteem, resulting from the many years of child neglect from his biological father (Tang Hao). With barely any food expenses to feed himself and the rest of the family, most of the time, Tang Qing would often go to bed with a starving and hungry stomach.

It would seem that Tang Qing’s father suffered from depression, and would often grief over the loss of Tang Qing’s mother, which resulted in him becoming a heavy drinker and alcoholic to cope with his grief.

This is something that is too deeply rooted to be easily unearthed by an outside stranger, it could only be internally resolved by the family members that were involved. If Tang Qing’s father could not pull himself together and get over Tang Qing’s mother’s death, then it is impossible to move forwards, no matter what help or advice he may give to the family.

So the wise old sage decided to redirect the cause of frustration and anger Tang Qing felt for his father into something more fruitful and beneficial for his future. He taught him swordsmanship in order to vent his pent up frustration and to train his physical body to near peak condition.

A healthy and active body can help alleviate the burden of one’s own mental struggle and slowly get over the troubles that were happening at home.

In his free time, he also taught Tang Qing of the scholarly way and medicine, though it is not too in-depth, it is enough to get the boy into reading and become knowledgable of the huge world that is around him.

The wooden sword that the wise old sage handed over towards him, is in fact, a spirit artifact, a low-grade one to be exact. It is made from the bamboo legs of a hundred years old silver cane plant spirit beast. So it thereby contains a small trace of spiritual energy flowing within the wooden sword, which strengthens the wooden sword’s main body, making it a lot become tougher and durable.

There are small spirit runes drawn onto the surface of the wooden sword blade, that is almost hidden to the naked eyed, camouflaged by the wood rough structure, but is identifiable upon a closer look.

These spirit runes are made to draw spiritual energy from the user’s surroundings and store it inside the wooden blade, which is then used to recover the user’s internal spiritual energy, or otherwise heal small cuts or bruises on the user’s body during the sword training.

The wise old sage saw the potential for Tang Qing to become a sword spirit master, no matter if he doesn’t possess an innate sword spirit, or which he has blocked spirit meridians that can’t cultivate spiritual energy, it does not matter. A good deed is done, and karma earned, it does not require any merits in return.

Time passed by rather uneventfully, as it was soon just about to reach noon, and Tang Qing wrecked his entire body, covered in hard sweat and aching muscles, mostly within his arms and legs.

When Tang Qing was about to make his last swing of the day, a silver glint of light glitters for a tiny fraction of milliseconds, within Tang Qing’s eyes. As some form of innate spiritual energy began to arise from the boy’s tiny six years old body, and it readily dances across the sword blade, reaching the tip of the blade.

The silver light is actually sword spiritual energy, though it is only a tiny bit, enough to fit on the tip of a single fit. It is still sharp enough to pierce through paper or a single leaf, almost like it was an actual silver needle.

Tang Qing has gained enlightenment into the essence of swordsmanship, and slowly unravels the hidden mysteries of the mysterious sword intent. Although it is only a small tiny fraction of the initial stage of the sword intent, it is better than nothing.

For most people, it would take them literal decades to gain enlightenment into the sword intent, but for Tang Qing, it took him only two to three years.

It is not because of talent, but rather the amount of effort and time that Tang Qing put into his swordsmanship. It is best to train a child in the art of the sword at an earlier age to mold the child’s body to fit for swordsmanship, otherwise, it would become harder to train as he grows up.

A child’s body is versatile and soft, with many bones within the body, and latent talents can be easily uncovered and trained to perfection, but lack the necessary experience that grown-up adult has. That can be acquired as the child grows up, and experience the vast wideness of the world, and what the world has to offer. So it is no biggy.

Tang Qing’s body suddenly stops, as his wooden sword then stuck out in the air, in a stabbing motion.

He then heard a sharp crisped whistling noise, as the wooden sword pierced through the air, not like the typical sword sound it makes when he swung his sword, as it left him bewildered.

“This…” Tang Qing uttered, as his eyes then focus on the glowing tip of the wooden sword blade. “What is this external energy that I’m feeling? It’s so strange. I’m feeling some sort of power emitting off of it.”

Tang Qing then thought so to himself, ‘Could this be the sword spiritual energy that Shifu was talking about? When one breakthrough and then enters the realm of true swordsmanship, and stepping foot onto the long road of becoming an expert sword practitioner.’