The rustle of turning pages, crisp and pleasant to the ear, filled the little pool-side dell.
Yet to Li Feiyu that very sound had grown a thing of loathing.
No longer minded to pay heed to Han Li, sunk in his study, he ran back to the margin of the pool, drew the long blade from the soil where it had been planted, and fell to practicing with it, heedless of all else.
Han Li glanced at him sidelong, saw how brimming with vigor the fellow was, and gave no further notice to his doings, fixing his mind, rather, upon the book in his hand.
Story that men tell of reading "ten lines at a single glance"—that was no more than the speed at which Han Li now turned the pages. A thick volume he flew through in no time at all, and without lifting his head, barely glancing, he snatched up another and went on turning it as fast as before.
His eyes narrowed to slits as he read, and now and again the look upon his face shifted as some thought crossed his mind; his gaze was nailed to the page and would not leave it for a single instant, and his head swung to follow the wandering of his sight—in all ways resembling the bobbing and swaying of a scholar lost in his book.
The hours sped by, and one by one the "Blink Sword Manuals" were swept past by Han Li in swift review.
When he had finished the eleventh manual, he of a sudden halted this astonishing labor of his. The very book he had just laid down he tossed back into the bundle.
Then he closed his eyes and rested his spirit for a while.
When his mind had recovered somewhat, he sat down cross-legged where he was, and called upon the Art of Eternal Youth, and began to play back within his head all that he had read in the dozen-odd volumes.
It was not long before Han Li's face grew rich and varied—now trembling with excitement, now drawn in a frown of thought, and now pinched with chagrin and disappointment.
None could say how long it was before he at last opened his eyes. And when he did, he gave a great start, frightened clean out of his wits.
For there, before his very eyes, no one could say at what point it had come, was Li Feiyu's head, thrust so close that it was all but nose to nose with his own.
"What art thou about?" exclaimed Han Li, startled. "Wert thou not practicing thy blade-work?"
"Junior Brother Han, what hour dost thou think it is? Dost thou still ask such foolish questions?" Li Feiyu drew his body back again and curled his lip.
Only then did Han Li notice how dim the light about them had grown.
He raised his head and looked at the sky. It had turned a leaden grey, and the time had grown to dusk.
"Tck! How the hours do fly! I never marked at all that so long a time had passed."
Han Li stood up and loosened his arms and legs.
"Well now," said Li Feiyu, fixing him with an eager gaze, "what findst thou in these books that might prove of interest? I trust thou hast come upon something worth the trouble."
"Mmm, not bad indeed; it suits me very well."
"What meanst thou by 'not bad'? Ripen thy answer and give me somewhat of substance." Li Feiyu answered in some dissatisfaction.
"To speak plainly," said Han Li at his unhurried pace, "these manuals are a great hodgepodge. There is nothing complete nor set in them—they are all scraps stitched and patched together at random."
"Then what of the Blink Sword Style? Doth it truly exist? And why should it carry so strange a name?" Li Feiyu was still far from content, and pressed his questions on.
"The Blink Sword Style does indeed exist—only it forms but one part of this hodgepodge, and occupies but a very small portion of these books." Han Li spoke with great patience.
"And as for why it bears that name, there is good reason for it."
"What reason? Canst thou not pour it all out at a gulp, instead of dribbling it to me sentence by sentence, like some old schoolmaster of our town?" Li Feiyu glared at Han Li, quite unable to abide so dawdling a pace.
Han Li saw he had no way to move the fellow, and so quickened the telling a little.
"According to the books," said he, "this sword style overcomes the enemy by turning to account the play of light and the errors of the eye. It slays a man between one blink and the next, so that he loses his life in the twinkling of an eye—and that is why it is called the Blink Sword Style."
"Can there truly be so strange a sword style in the world? Odd fellows are plentiful indeed!" Li Feiyu's interest was kindled on the instant—but it was quenched as suddenly by Han Li's very next words.
"This sword style hath three things one must not practice: he whose true qi hath attained even a little achievement must not practice it; he who hath not great perseverance must not practice it; and he who hath not talent must not practice it."
No sooner had Li Feiyu heard the first of these conditions than he forsook and gave up all prying after the art. His own internal true qi had already ripened to no shallow degree; he could hardly do away with the puissance he had built and go learn some art of which the might he knew not at all.
As Li Feiyu lost all interest in these manuals, he had no more inclination to tarry in that place.
He rose to take his leave and return, but before he went he charged Han Li to copy out these manuals with all speed, and to give the originals back into his keeping when next they met. For though these books were held in no great esteem by others, yet were such a great heap of them to vanish for too long, they would be sure to draw attention.
Not long after Li Feiyu had gone, Han Li too took leave of that spot.
The whole mountain range was wrapped in a thin layer of mist, and wore a gloomy, muted air. On either side of the narrow mountain path grew great stands of needle-leafed pines, and when a mountain wind swept through the wood it set up a rustling roar, and the branches on either hand writhed and clawed in eerie, monstrous fashion.
Han Li hurried along such a path, grim and strange, making his way in haste toward Spirit Hands Valley.
Because he had set out a good deal too late, darkness fell in full upon him halfway along the road.
Had it not been that the Art of Eternal Youth gave his eyes a keener sight at night, he would never have dared travel abroad in so dim a gloom—for this path was none too easy. All along it he must turn left and double back right, past passes and treacherous spots, and one misstep could bring down upon him any accident, and so rob him of his life.