Chapter Eleven: The Blade in Hand
His determination and willpower were clearly evident—they could only support three instances of transcendence before reaching the absolute limit of his own resolve. In that fleeting moment just now, his will had shattered under the unbearable pain, crossing the threshold of endurance.
Yet life is truly miraculous; after collapsing, it quickly restored itself.
When the body breaks down, the person dies. But the intangible, ethereal will is even more extraordinary.
That he could transcend three times now attests to his progress. Just three months ago, his will couldn't even manage one transcendence; it blanked out entirely, his breathing and spirit thrown into chaos.
This is also the ultimate limit for most ordinary people practicing cultivation.
It can be said that over these three months, his transformation has been comprehensive.
The interface certainly provided significant assistance, but his persistent quest for the Dao also played a profound role.
If he had rested immediately after reaching a moderate level each day, he might now only be at second-level swordsmanship, rather than approaching mastery as he is now.
"Compared to this morning, I've improved by half a blade. Probably after two and a half more swings, I can transcend a fourth time."
"Human willpower truly has limits. The idea that belief alone can grant infinite willpower is a lie. Fortunately, the limits of will can continually expand—like fragile earth that, when gathered persistently, becomes a star!"
"Cultivation is like rolling a snowball—each step faster than the last. Waste no time; once gone, it never returns. This world has never granted the weak the luxury of choice. No one knows whether accident or tomorrow will come first. Only one's own strength is real and unshakable, enabling the choice of the future at critical moments..."
Li Qi thought to himself.
He was a dreamer, still retaining some innocence and purity of heart, but this did not mean he was naive or fragile. In fact, he deeply understood the harsh realities of the world.
He simply refused to let the darkness of the world extinguish his happiness.
Joy and the desire to grow stronger were not mutually exclusive.
With these thoughts in mind, Li Qi glanced at the interface log.
Log: You completed one round of the Tiger Fury Eighteen Blades, swordsmanship proficiency +1.2
Log: You transcended the limit once, swordsmanship proficiency +0.5
Log: You transcended the limit twice, swordsmanship proficiency +0.7
Log: You transcended the limit thrice, swordsmanship proficiency +1.1
Log: You are approaching a fourth transcendence, insight +2.6
Log: Your six-dimensional attributes have been tempered and will see subtle improvements…
After reviewing the log, Li Qi knew his current training session had been quite effective. A total improvement of 3.5 in one round was significant.
He now practiced twice a day, gaining about seven points in proficiency daily. Of course, humans are not machines; some days he felt weaker, resulting in slightly less improvement, but never by much.
From this, it was evident that the major gains came from transcending limits.
As for why he couldn’t train more than twice a day—unlike tales where some train continuously for an entire day—Li Qi could only say that flesh and blood are fragile. Humans are not bio-machines that can lose and regain blood simultaneously.
In fact, given his intensity, being able to train twice daily without collapsing from sheer exhaustion was remarkable.
Others who trained and transcended their limits, no matter how many times, usually needed two to three days of rest. Yet Li Qi’s recovery was rapid, clearly the interface not only solidified his progress but also certain other aspects, such as an unseen cap on his health bar.
It wasn't his blood locked in place, but the maximum health limit.
If his health bar emptied, he would still die; he was not immortal—this mechanism simply allowed him to push himself to the brink without permanently lowering his health ceiling.
"Everything really is different now..."
"I hardly resemble who I was before..."
After regaining some strength, Li Qi didn’t rise immediately. Instead, he quietly gazed at his reflection in the mirror.
In both his past and present lives, he had always carried some baby fat. He once thought this was a matter of constitution, but in truth, it was simply because he hadn’t trained hard enough before.
Now, he practically exhausted himself twice daily, and his entire state had transformed.
The thinness reflected in the mirror was not one of weakness, but refinement—like cotton forged into steel.
The pain of training was indeed painful, but he took pleasure in the gradual feeling of growing stronger.
"Damn it, I’m still not strong enough. Why can’t humans train fifty hours a day? If only that were possible..."
Li Qi sighed, once again feeling the frailty of human nature.
After a brief moment of daze, he slowly stood and walked over to a storage cabinet in the corner.
First, he drank an entire bottle of warm saline water.
Then he took out a box sealed with wax containing pills the size of half a fist each. He swallowed three at once and soon felt a warm heat radiate from his stomach.
The saline replenished his fluids.
The three pills were pure supplements, nourishing his body, healing damage, warming his vital energy, and providing nutrition more easily digested and absorbed than ordinary food.
In a sense, this was a form of medicinal cuisine.
In ancient times, such items were only available to the sons and daughters of nobility. Ordinary people wouldn't even catch sight of anything like it, much less consume it.
Only in the modern era, with technological advancement, could various medicinal materials be cultivated on a large scale. After all, in this world, there was no spiritual energy or supernatural vitality. There was no such thing as wild herbs absorbing heavenly qi to multiply their efficacy dozens of times—everything was roughly the same.
That’s how such supplements became accessible to every household.
It was precisely because of this that cultivation prospered in this era.
Of course, ancient remedies were an exception—those rare ones that, through countless coincidences, broke the limits of human lifespan and possessed special medicinal properties. Such things could never be mass-produced, but they were not essential for martial cultivation.
Some say this is the worst of times: networks connect distant corners, traditions collapse, morals decay, and hearts grow restless. Yet in another sense, it is also the best of times.
Resources are abundant, ideas surge like a torrent, and everyone may express their thoughts freely. Though chaos mixes with brilliance, it is in this bustling world that one can best comprehend the Dao. Truly, this is the finest era for cultivation.
It’s just that while many pursue cultivation, very few devote themselves wholeheartedly with a vow.
"This era..."
"With a blade in hand, I wonder when I’ll finally test myself against the heroes of the world..."
Li Qi picked up his sword and swung it casually a few times, whispering softly.
To settle for the mundane was only because he was not yet strong enough; thus, he could do no more.
From the moment he saw the interface, fierce ambition surged within him.
No one is content with mediocrity; everyone harbors their own desires.
Since he had already gained this advantage, and there truly were invincible warriors in the world, then why couldn’t he be one of them?
If he could achieve greatness and leave a mark, even if one day the interface vanished and he was cast back into ordinary life, his life would not have been in vain.
Compared to a lifetime of mediocrity, a fleeting brilliance is far more captivating.
Power and wealth are nothing compared to the might one wields within.
Noble lords and princes may be lofty, but within a hundred paces, none could match me...
"Invincible in the world, invincible in the world..."
Click!
As the door opened, the light in the quiet room went out. The glow outside stretched Li Qi’s shadow long and thin before the wooden door slammed shut with a thunderous bang, plunging the chamber into complete darkness.