Cultivation is Creation-Chapter 173: I am Wu Kangming - Disciple Of The Sword Saint

Wu Kangming sat in meditation by the stream, his plain sword laid across his knees, but his mind was far from peaceful.

The mist curled around him in complex patterns that only he could read, each tendril an extension of his spiritual sense. Through this technique, he could monitor his surroundings without appearing to move: a skill his master had drilled into him relentlessly.

"Two of them," his master's voice echoed in his thoughts. "Their spiritual signatures are... wrong. Like paintings of people rather than people themselves."

Wu Kangming maintained his meditation pose, though internally he was analyzing the information. "Wrong how, Master?"

"Their souls have been bound and reconstructed," the ancient sword spirit replied. "I've seen this before, though not for thousands of years. Someone is collecting souls and placing them in artificial bodies."

That was... disturbing. Wu Kangming had heard tales of powerful cultivators who could capture souls, but actually binding them to new bodies? That went beyond normal cultivation techniques into something far darker.

"The woman is setting up some kind of toxin-based technique," his master continued. "The man... his sword dao is interesting. Incomplete, but there's potential there. He's trying to embody nothingness without understanding its true nature."

"Should I engage them?" Wu Kangming asked mentally.

"No need. Let them make the first move. It will tell us more about their intentions. Besides, this will be good practice for you. Show me how you handle multiple opponents with unusual techniques."

Wu Kangming suppressed a sigh. Trust his master to turn an ambush into a teaching opportunity. Still, he couldn't deny that the old sword spirit's methods had proven effective, even if they sometimes seemed unnecessarily dramatic.

He felt the woman's technique activate: some kind of black flower that released waves of poisonous spores into the air. At the same instant, the man burst from cover with impressive speed, his sword aimed at a precise point that would have paralyzed most cultivators.

Wu Kangming didn't move his body. He didn't need to. His sword lifted from his lap of its own accord, dancing through the air in a pattern that his master had drilled into him until it was pure reflex. The blade moved with liquid grace, each motion precisely calculated to neutralize both threats simultaneously.

The black spores simply ceased to exist where his sword passed, while the man's strike met nothing but air as Wu Kangming's body swayed slightly: a movement so subtle it was barely perceptible.

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"Good," his master approved. "You're finally starting to understand the concept of minimal motion. Though your sword work could still use refinement. The third stroke was off by about half a degree."

Wu Kangming resisted the urge to sigh. Half a degree? Really? But he knew better than to argue. Instead, he opened his eyes and studied his would-be assassins.

"Interesting," he said aloud. "You're not the ones I was expecting. Your spiritual signatures are... wrong. Hollow, somehow." He paused, remembering his master's words. "Though I suppose that makes sense, given what you are."

The man: tall, with proud features but hollow eyes: took a step back. "Our master sent us to collect you. Come willingly, and this doesn't have to end in violence."

"Your master?" Wu Kangming asked, shaking his head. "Ah, I see. A collector of souls." He stood slowly. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline. Though I'll extend the same courtesy: leave now, return to your master alive. This doesn't have to end with your second deaths."

The woman: pale-skinned with occasionally red-flashing eyes: laughed. "You're quite confident for someone outnumbered two to one."

"I am Wu Kangming," he replied simply. It wasn't arrogance: just a statement of fact. His master had taught him that true confidence needed no elaboration.

"Now," his master's voice held an edge of excitement that Wu Kangming had learned to be wary of, "show them why."

Wu Kangming moved. His sword blurred forward in a thrust that appeared deceptively simple: the first iteration of Thread Cutting. But as his master had taught him, true sword arts weren't about complexity. They were about perfection.

The man barely managed to dodge, his sleeve parting with a whisper as spiritual pathways were severed. His eyes widened in recognition of what had nearly happened.

"Thread Cutting," Wu Kangming said softly. "First iteration."

"Better," his master commented. "Though you're still telegraphing the technique slightly. Remember, by the time they see the blade, it should already be too late."

The woman didn't waste time with words. Her black flower burst into dozens of smaller blooms, filling the air with a mixture of poisonous pollen and razor-sharp petals. It was an impressive technique, one that showcased both skill and creativity.

"A shame she's bound to that collector," his master mused. "That's actually quite an interesting application of demonic cultivation. See how she's layered the effects? The petals aren't just for damage: they're designed to herd you into the pollen clouds."

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Wu Kangming's sword moved in response, flowing through a complex pattern that his master had spent months teaching him. Each swing somehow hit multiple targets simultaneously, the blade moving in ways that shouldn't have been physically possible.

"How..." the woman started, then had to dodge as the sword changed direction mid-swing, nearly taking her head off.

"Thread Cutting, second iteration," Wu Kangming explained as the petals and pollen simply ceased to exist. "The first cuts physical connections. The second severs the bond between spiritual energy and its manifestations."

"Stop showing off," his master chided. "Though I suppose some explanation of techniques is traditional... Watch your left! The man is trying something."

Indeed, a blade had materialized from nowhere, aimed at Wu Kangming's spine. Without turning, without any indication he had sensed the attack, he split his sword into three identical copies: a technique that had taken him months to master.

Two copies continued pressuring the woman while the third intercepted the surprise attack. The clash sent shockwaves through the clearing, uprooting small trees and creating ripples in the nearby stream.

"Sword Spirit Manifestation," Wu Kangming commented, noting how the man's eyes widened at the technique name. "My teacher says your Hollow Sword Dao has potential, but it's incomplete. You're trying to embody nothingness without understanding its true nature."

"Now you're just being condescending," his master said, though Wu Kangming could hear the amusement in his voice. "Focus on the fight. They're about to switch tactics."

Sure enough, the woman called out "Switch!" and they smoothly traded positions. It was well-executed: clearly they had training in coordinated combat, even if they had never fought together before.

The woman took advantage of the momentary opening to unleash what was clearly her ultimate technique. Her hands blurred through a series of seals as she pulled out three more black seeds. "Bloom of the Hundred Poisons!"

The seeds erupted into a jungle of twisted vegetation. Thorny vines whipped through the air while flowers that shouldn't exist sprayed clouds of technicolor toxins.

"Impressive," his master admitted. "Though fundamentally flawed. Can you see why?"

Wu Kangming studied the technique as he defended against it. "The energy pattern is unstable. She's forcing effects that shouldn't coexist, relying on brute force rather than proper refinement."

"Exactly. Though be careful: unstable techniques are often the most dangerous. They can have unpredictable effects."

The man pressed his own attack simultaneously, his Hollow Sword streaming with void energy in a complex series of strikes. Each attack came from a different angle, forcing Wu Kangming to split his attention.

"Interesting combination," Wu Kangming admitted as his swords danced through increasingly complex patterns. "The void energy disrupts spatial relationships while the demonic plants attack through multiple vectors simultaneously. Against most opponents, this would be checkmate."

“My disciple, this is a great opportunity to test out your Domain.”

Wu Kangming's silver eyes gleamed as he gathered his power. "Unfortunately for you, my teacher specialized in dealing with exactly this kind of situation. Sword Spirit Art: Absolute Territory!"

The air crystallized. Everything within a ten-meter radius suddenly became sharp, as though reality itself had been transformed into an infinitely faceted blade. It was one of his master's signature techniques, though Wu Kangming could only maintain a pale imitation of its true form.

The woman's demonic plants withered and died, cut into pieces so small they might as well have been atoms.

"Fall back!" the man shouted, recognizing the danger. But his companion was a fraction too slow.

One of Wu Kangming's sword copies caught her in the shoulder, the blade passing through her flesh with terrifying ease. She stumbled, black blood spraying from the wound.

"First blood," Wu Kangming noted, studying the strange substance that passed for blood in their artificial bodies. "Though I suppose that's not really blood, is it? More like the essence your Master used to create your current forms."

The man called out to his companion. "We need to end this quickly. All out attack, no holding back!"

They attacked simultaneously, the woman unleashing her entire arsenal of demonic techniques while the man pushed his Hollow Sword Dao to its limits. The void energy around his blade intensified until it began eating away at reality itself, creating patches of nothingness that even Wu Kangming's domain had trouble affecting.

"They're not bad," his master admitted. "In another life, they might have been truly formidable cultivators. But as they are now... Show them the difference between true sword dao and mere imitation."

Wu Kangming smiled. "Thank you for this fight. My teacher says I've learned enough: time to show you what a true sword path looks like. Sword Spirit Art: Azure Edge!"

His blade blurred, leaving a trail of blue light that seemed to cut through the very concept of distance. One moment he was on the defensive, the next...

A line of absolute severance passed through everything in its path. The woman's remaining plants, the ground itself, the air... all of it split apart as though reality had been divided by a perfect blade.

The woman never had a chance to scream. The Azure Edge caught her mid-technique, cutting through her defenses like they didn't exist, causing her body to literally fall apart and dissolve into motes of black energy that quickly faded away.

"Her soul will return to their master," his master explained. "Their existence is indeed a pitiful one.”

Wu Kangming felt a moment of genuine regret. These slaves hadn't chosen their fate: they had been bound and twisted into something they were never meant to be.

"I am sorry about your friend," he said to the remaining opponent, and he meant it. "But you left me no choice. Will you retreat now? I would prefer not to destroy another soul today."

The man's face showed a complex mix of emotions: grief, resignation, and something like appreciation. "I can't," he admitted. "The contract compels me to continue until I either capture you or am destroyed in the attempt. Free will isn't something the Masked One allows his servants."

Wu Kangming nodded, understanding all too well the weight of fate and obligation. "Then let us end this quickly. I promise to make it clean."

The man gathered the last of his power, his blade blazing with void energy as he charged forward.

For a brief moment, their blades clashed in a dance of steel and void energy. The man moved with impressive skill, each strike aimed at a vital point, each defense calculated to create an opening for a counter.

"He truly does have potential," his master mused. "In another life, he might have mastered the true meaning of void. But as he is now..."

The Azure Edge flashed once more, and the man's body began to fall apart.

As the light in the man’s eye began to fade, Wu Kangming caught a glimpse of something– not fear of death, but terror of something else. Then his opponent's artificial form dissolved into black motes, leaving Wu Kangming standing alone in the devastated clearing.

Or so he thought.