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"Boom!"
A long sword covered in frost was suddenly thrown, piercing straight into the standing target, and the iron-covered dummy exploded into pieces.
Zhao Douan reached out, caught the hilt, and elegantly twirled the sword.
Standing in the small "Martial Arts Arena" in his courtyard, he faced the eastern sunrise of the late summer morning, exhaling deeply,
"A bit of something."
These past two days, he had devoted all his focus to absorbing the teachings of the Empress.
In his mind, he replayed them repeatedly, training over and over.
During the day, when he went to the government office, he didn't handle cases, choosing instead to spar with the Masters from various halls, honing his skills in practical combat with these highly skilled Martial Artists.
His progress was rapid.
If not for the vast difference in level with Lord Ma Yan, Zhao Douan would have sought out his senior brother for some sparring.