"Saint, Yang Chen."
Once again, a Sword Saint. Now, after delving into their lives, my understanding of swordsmanship has reached a new level.
I wonder, can my swordsmanship now compare with those Sword Dao Masters?
White Mitchell pondered in secret, then immediately turned his attention to the life of the next Saint.
Sunlight filtered through the window into a small, simple room, where a wooden table sat in the center, an ancient book resting on top of it. The room was incredibly empty, with just a fresh scent permeating the air.
In a corner of the room, White Mitchell sat quietly on the floor, his eyes closed in meditation. He practiced for a full day and night, with extreme concentration, his entire body shrouded in a weak golden glow. His efforts were not in vain, he could feel the cultivation within him continuously increasing.