The essence of the Hand Blade technique is to simulate the hand into an edgeless blade for cutting. The key is not in the "cutting" but in the "slicing". It seems like there’s only a difference in wording, but the effect is completely different. "Cutting" is merely a motion, a release of strength. Whereas "slicing" carries with it a sense of decisiveness to sever all obstacles in front with a single blow! Only by harboring the thought of slicing through everything, can the strength move with intent, concentrating all the body’s power onto the edge of the palm, achieving true penetration. The technique of Hand Blade should not be regarded as a mere muscular exercise, but rather a unity of spirit and body! This epiphany flashed through Fang Cheng’s mind like lightning, stirring his emotions. If he weren’t in the club, concerned about the impact, he would truly like to try out a full-force palm slice to see what it would be like. Calming his mind a bit, Fang Cheng immediately settled back into concentration on his practice. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting large bright patches on the plastic floor. Students came and went, their shadows moving, and the sunbeams shifting. Unknowingly, it was already almost four in the afternoon. The training hall grew quiet. Fang Cheng stopped his movements, also intending to finish today’s practice. Then he picked up the water bottle lying on the ground, unscrewed the cap, and took several gulps. With his current constitution, this amount of training wasn’t enough to make him sweat, just a bit thirsty. It was at this moment, the phone casually placed on the floor beside him suddenly vibrated and rang. Fang Cheng looked down, the screen displayed an unfamiliar number. He picked up the phone, pressed the answer button, and put it to his ear. "Fang Cheng, it’s me, Dong Yunchuan." The voice of an old man came through the phone, seemingly unable to suppress a bright laugh, sounding extremely familiar. Fang Cheng raised an eyebrow, somewhat puzzled. "Dong Yunchuan? Who’s that? I don’t know him." The tone was as calm as water, then he asked again: "Are you sure you have the right number?" The voice on the phone clearly hesitated, silent for several seconds, then explained: "I’m the dean of East Capital University’s Law School." Now it was Fang Cheng’s turn to be surprised. Why would the dean of the Law School be looking for him? He clearly remembered there was no such person on the list of instructors he applied to. The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the novel-fire.ɴet Meanwhile, in a quaint office at East Capital University. Red brick walls, large bookshelves stuffed with various law books. An old man with a ruddy face and vigorous spirit was holding a desk phone, his smile momentarily freezing. Dong Yunchuan took a deep breath, patiently reminding him: "Last December, we met at Senior Ma Jianguo’s house during a gathering, do you remember?" Fang Cheng finally dug up this person from the corners of his memory. An image immediately flashed in his mind. An old man with a flushed face, sweating all over, using his palm against a kettle to boil water for everyone. "You’re the Sect Leader of that Eight Trigrams group." "It’s Eight Trigrams Palm!" Hearing this, Dong Yunchuan’s face instantly darkened. This guy thought I was the leader of some gossip magazine! He forcefully suppressed his grumbling, cleared his throat, and got to the point: "Do you have a moment now? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you in person." Hearing this, Fang Cheng’s eyes flickered slightly, then he nodded: