Li Xuefeng gazed at the wooden branch in his hand, the memory of Li Jian's demonstration, seemingly simple yet profound in meaning still echoing in his mind. The lingering chill in the air seemed to dissipate, transforming into the gentle breeze that had swept through the courtyard moments before. He gripped the branch tightly; that deep, resonant sword intent seemed to still be surging within the depths of his soul.
Before he could speak, a calm voice broke the solemn, tranquil atmosphere.
