The courtyard was silent, save for the soft rustling of leaves under the gentle breeze.
The late evening light shimmered against Leo's bare upper body, beads of sweat clinging to his skin as he moved through a series of deliberate sword motions.
The air around him was charged with the thick aura of sword intent, sharp and oppressive, like a predator silently watching its prey.
Leo's eyes were sharp, focused on the invisible arcs he traced with each motion. He was practicing his newly obtained sword cultivation technique—the mysterious Unknown Ancient Sword Art.
The flow of the movements was strange and unorthodox, unlike any form he had learned before.
Every swing demanded not only precise movement, but control over emotion and will. This was no ordinary sword art. It was something else—something ancient.
As he completed another cycle, Leo let out a deep breath and sat down cross-legged on the training mat. He looked at his trembling hands.
