Final Regression of The Legendary Swordmaster Chapter 87

"Do you understand?"

Thaleia nodded and looked down at her hands. They were trembling slightly, a physical manifestation of the psychic static he was describing. "So you are saying I am the one making this inefficient. That any failure of the synchronization lies with my lack of quick action."

"I am saying you are allowing uncertainty to interfere," Edward corrected, his voice dropping an octave. "When I kissed you, I felt the shift immediately. Your mana fluctuated. It spiked in a desperate burst of heat, then retreated into a cold, defensive shell. That is wasted flow, Thaleia. Every time you pull back, the circuit breaks, and we have to start the conduction from nothing."

Her cheeks reddened again. This time, however, it wasn’t the soft glow of maidenly embarrassment; it was the sharp, stinging flush of frustration directed inward.

"I was nervous," she admitted, her voice gaining a sharp edge of honesty. "I kept wondering whether I was responding properly. I was trying to anticipate what you required of me, trying to ensure I wasn’t an anchor dragging you down."

Edward maintained his composed posture, though his eyes seemed to soften—if only by a fraction. "There is no ’proper’ response. There is only an honest response. If you feel heat, allow it to burn. If you feel a surge of power, let it radiate. Do not measure it against a textbook. Do not compare it to some imaginary standard of the ’perfect partner.’ When you categorize your feelings as they happen, you are no longer experiencing them; you are merely documenting them."

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his for some sign of the person behind the practitioner. "You speak as though this is simply another cultivation technique. As if we are merely circulating mana through meridians."

"For me, it is," he said without a second of hesitation. "And for you, it must become one as well. If you allow this process to become clouded, then this will be a catastrophic waste of both our time. We are here to achieve a breakthrough."

His tone wasn’t cruel, but it was clinical. It was the directness of a master pointing out a flaw in a blade. Thaleia inhaled slowly, forcing the air deep into her lungs to steady the frantic rhythm of her heart.

"When you kissed me," she said, choosing her words with deliberate care, "I felt a heat spread through my chest that had nothing to do with mana. My breathing changed. I felt... exposed. It was a terrifying sensation, but not because I felt unsafe. It was simply the weight of being truly seen."

Edward nodded once. "That is acceptable. Exposure is not a synonym for weakness. It is simply a lack of experience with vulnerability. In the world of high-level cultivation, vulnerability is the gateway to the highest forms of power. You cannot receive what you will not let in."

She hesitated, a question burning on her tongue that she wasn’t sure she had the right to ask. "And you? Did you feel anything beyond the technicality of the flow?"

"I felt your mana responding," he answered, his expression unreadable. "But as I said, it lacked stability. You pulled back internally each time the sensation intensified, like a swimmer afraid of the deep end of the pool. You reached for the shore before you even felt the current."

"You must build confidence," Edward continued, his voice echoing slightly in the silence. "Not arrogance—arrogance is a brittle shield. I mean confidence. When I instruct you to move closer, or to touch me, or to guide your mouth toward mine, do not second-guess the action. Do not wonder if you look foolish or if your touch is too light. Trust that I am the anchor. I would not direct you in a way that disrupts the synchronization."

Thaleia slowly straightened her posture, the silk of her robes shifting softly. "You are asking me to surrender control."

"Your voice," Edward pointed out.

Thaleia noticed that she had been out of tone again and immediately apologized, "Sorry my Lord."

"I am asking you to share it," he continued. " I need a partner, Thaleia, not a puppet."

Silence settled between them again. It was a different kind of silence than before—no longer tense and jagged, but thoughtful and heavy with the weight of realization.

"If I hesitate again?" she asked, her voice more stable now.

"Then I will correct you again," he replied calmly. "But you must understand that hesitation repeated too often will build a permanent blockage. It will prevent your breakthrough entirely. Your one hundred circles of cultivation are already complete; your foundation is solid. What you lack is synchronization. If your mind trembles, your core will tremble, and the bridge between us will collapse."

She absorbed his words, letting them sink into her bones. She realized that her greatest enemy wasn’t the intimacy of the act, but her own analytical mind trying to protect itself from the unknown.

"I do not want this to be a waste," she said quietly. "Not for you. Not for me. I have sacrificed much to reach this threshold."

"Then stop worrying about whether you appear inexperienced," Edward said. "Experience can be built with time. Talent can be refined with effort. But resolve? Resolve must come from within you, and it must be absolute."

Thaleia lifted her chin. There was still a faint, lingering blush on her skin, but her gaze was steadier, anchored by a new sense of purpose.

"Then instruct me again," she said, her voice ringing with a newfound clarity. "This time, I will not retreat. I will not hide behind my thoughts."

Edward studied her for a long moment, his eyes scanning the aura that surrounded her. The frantic, jagged fluctuations that had plagued her mana only minutes ago had begun to smooth out. The air around her felt warmer, more receptive.

"Good," he said at last. "When I touch you again, do not brace yourself for an impact."

She nodded slowly, her heart beating with a steady, purposeful thrum.

"And Thaleia," he added, his tone softening just a fraction, perhaps the most human he had sounded all evening, "this is not about pleasing me. If you focus only on whether you satisfy my expectations, you will lose the rhythm of your own flow. You cannot find harmony if you are only listening to one instrument."

Her lips parted slightly in a moment of pure realization. "So I should focus on what I feel, not on what I think you expect to see."

"Exactly."

For the first time since she had crossed the threshold of this room, Thaleia’s shoulders relaxed completely. The tension that had held her spine rigid melted away.

"I understand," she said.

Edward gave a small, sharp nod of approval. "Then we continue."