84: Xiao Yu teaches sword

Xiao Yu pondered for a moment, seemingly recalling: "The Pharmacist Department has always been an important branch of Canaan Academy, with a mysterious and profound foundation. Because it is independent of the Inner and Outer Courtyards, I am not very clear about the Pharmacist Department's information."

"However, when you first enter the Outer Courtyard, you can apply to a Great Master for a pharmacist talent appraisal. If you have pharmacist talent, you can temporarily join the Pharmacist Department for systematic pharmacist study."

Xiao Yu recalled, "It is said that most of the top Pharmacist Great Masters in our Academy are elusive, either delving into research deep within the Inner Courtyard or traveling around to find rare medicinal ingredients. The specific situation might require you to understand it yourself…"

Xiao Yu said somewhat apologetically.

She herself did not have pharmacist talent, so she did not understand the specific procedures of the Pharmacist Department.

She looked at Mo Yuhan's instantly bright eyes and added, "Of course, with Yu Han's talent, if he pursues pharmacy, the Pharmacist Department's resources will be enough for him to study for a long time.

Although he didn't hear the news he wanted, it indicated that Canaan Academy's Pharmacist Department was still relatively important.

He vaguely remembered that Canaan Academy's Pharmacist Department was also connected to the Pill Tower in Central Plains.

"Thank you, Senior Sister Xiao Yu, for answering."

The topic came to an end, and the courtyard fell into a brief silence.

The sun was warm, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, making soft sounds.

Mo Yuhan didn't want to face Lin Fei's fiery enthusiasm for now, and his gaze involuntarily fell on the ancient longsword at Xiao Yu's waist.

The scabbard had smooth lines, inscribed with simple cloud patterns, exuding a sense of stability that had endured years and a restrained sharpness.

The scene of Lin Fei's night attack on him last night flashed uncontrollably in his mind—the soft, warm touch, the rich fragrance…

Mo Yuhan quickly shook off the distracting thoughts and focused his attention on the sword.

"Senior Sister Xiao Yu."

He spoke again, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity and longing, "Your sword… is very special."

He paused, seemingly organizing his words, "I haven't chosen my main weapon yet. Great Master Frank also said, besides alchemy, that a suitable weapon is an extension of one's body. I… I want to see the sword, to feel what it's like."

Xiao Yu was slightly startled, then looked down at the sword at her waist, her eyes instantly becoming soft and focused, as if looking at an old friend who had accompanied her for many years.

She gently stroked the cold scabbard, her fingertips caressing the patterns on it.

This request surprised her, but seeing Mo Yuhan's clear and slightly eager eyes, her heart stirred.

In fact, her swordsmanship was not very good; what she had learned was only superficial. In truth, she was more skilled in leg techniques.

However, since Mo Yuhan asked, she naturally wouldn't refuse.

"Want to feel the sword?"

Xiao Yu stood up, her posture as straight as a sword, "Just looking won't do. A sword needs to be held in hand, to feel its breath and rhythm with your heart."

She unfastened her sword, her movements gentle and solemn, as if she wasn't taking off a weapon, but a responsibility.

She didn't hand the sword directly to Mo Yuhan but looked at him with serious eyes: "Yu Han, in the way of the sword, sincerity of heart is paramount. The wielder must revere its sharpness and also understand its meaning of protection. Are you… ready?"

Her tone carried a sense of ritual, causing Mo Yuhan to involuntarily straighten his expression, his small face taut, and he nodded seriously: "Yes! Senior Sister Xiao Yu, I'm ready."

"Good."

A hint of approval flashed in Xiao Yu's eyes. She took a step forward, closer than during their usual conversations.

A faint, refreshing scent, a mix of sunlight, grass, and a very subtle hint of sweat, instantly enveloped Mo Yuhan. It was completely different from Xue Mei's coolness, Lin Fei's sweet warmth, and Xue Ni's fieryness, carrying a vibrant vitality and a reassuring sense of power.

Xiao Yu leaned slightly forward, one hand supporting the scabbard, the other holding the hilt.

This posture made her tall figure form a powerful silhouette in front of Mo Yuhan. Her full chest curves appeared even more prominent due to this movement, just inches from Mo Yuhan's line of sight.

Mo Yuhan subconsciously held his breath, but his gaze was involuntarily drawn to the ancient sword hilt.

"Watch closely."

Xiao Yu's voice was low and clear. Her wrist flickered slightly.

"Clang—!"

A clear, melodious sword cry echoed across the field, and a cold gleam, like a silver dragon breaking free, suddenly unsheathed.

The sword body was not dazzlingly bright; instead, it presented a restrained, autumn-water-like greenish-blue color, flowing with a cold and deep luster under the sunlight.

The sword body was long and straight, with fine, fish-scale-like forging patterns near the spine. The tip of the sword held a concentrated, unyielding cold gleam, as if it could pierce through the void.

A sharp and pure aura instantly permeated the air, seemingly solidifying the surroundings.

"Good sword!"

Mo Yuhan blurted out, staring unblinkingly at the autumn-water-like sword body.

Although Xiao Yu's longsword was an ordinary item, in Xiao Yu's hands, it was wielded very smoothly.

A flicker of imperceptible pride flashed in Xiao Yu's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by seriousness.

She did not immediately let Mo Yuhan hold the sword. Instead, she slowly held the longsword horizontally in front of her, her left index and middle fingers together, caressing the cold sword body as if stroking a lover's skin, extremely gently and attentively, with a reverence that was almost devout.

"A sword has a spirit."

Her voice was low, as if narrating an ancient secret, "Feel its weight, its balance, and the will carried by every inch of its sharpness."

She slowly, as if in slow motion, demonstrated the simplest, most basic thrusting motion.

The movement seemed slow, yet it contained a strange rhythm. The coordination of her arm, wrist, waist, and footsteps was seamless. Power rose from her feet, flowed through her lower back, gathered in her arm, and finally transferred precisely to the cold gleam at the tip of the sword.

The air seemed to be pierced by an invisible force, emitting a faint "hiss."

Mo Yuhan watched intently, his mind completely captivated by this seemingly simple yet profoundly meaningful sword stroke.

He subconsciously imitated Xiao Yu's movements.

"Come."

Xiao Yu sheathed her sword and looked at Mo Yuhan with a gentle gaze, turning the longsword in her hand so that the hilt faced Mo Yuhan, "Hold it, and feel its 'breath.' Don't use force; try to let it become a part of your arm."

Mo Yuhan took a deep breath, suppressing the excitement and a hint of nervousness in his heart. He extended his small hand and carefully grasped the sword hilt, which still carried the warmth of Xiao Yu's palm.

It felt cool to the touch, a solid feel of wood wrapped around metal. The size of the hilt was slightly large for his small hand, but the grip was unexpectedly comfortable, as if naturally fitted.

A heavy, metallic coolness and a strange, life-like pulsation instantly transferred from his palm to his heart.

The moment he grasped the hilt, Xiao Yu's hand did not immediately leave. Her right hand gently, and very naturally, covered Mo Yuhan's small hand that held the sword.

The warm touch, bearing the calluses from sword practice, instantly transmitted like an electric current.