Princes and princesses had been practicing their swordplay for almost half an hour. When the middle-aged man announced the end, they immediately cheered and began sheathing their swords.
They gathered in small groups, discussing various matters. Some turned their gazes toward a corner of the garden, where a young boy still held his arms across his face, his slender frame trembling continuously, his arms covered in blood, bloodstains all over the ground. Yet, from the beginning to the end, he never cried out loud.
The middle-aged man walked up to him and activated his Spiritual Power with his right hand to help heal the boy's wounds.
"Why must you insist on cultivating? If you persist like this, you will only suffer more," the middle-aged man said indifferently.
The boy slowly looked up, fearfully gazing at the middle-aged man. He clenched his teeth tightly, remaining silent.
Then, the princes came over, each looking at the boy with teasing gazes, taunting him one after another.