The Imperial Examination

Even so, Wuxie did not waver. Through bitter winds and sleepless nights, he continued to train. He pushed his limits in silence, away from applause or praise.

His swordsmanship grew more precise with every swing, and his movement became a blur of speed and grace. Each dodge, each strike, became instinct, etched into his muscles like a sacred script.

His reflexes sharpened until he could catch an arrow mid-air with his fingers, and his magical control matured from chaotic bursts into fluid, focused streams of energy.

The spells he once struggled to cast now bloomed at his fingertips with ease, their radiance a reflection of his inner clarity.

The DreadBlade, too, had changed. Once a dormant relic of darkness, it now thrummed with eerie life.

The half-piece pulsed with a heartbeat of its own, as if recognizing Wuxie's unwavering resolve.