The sun was setting in the west, casting a golden glow over everything in sight.
In a clearing within a bamboo forest on a mountaintop, bamboo leaves drifted down, only to be sliced in two by a casual-looking swing of a sword.
Each swing lacked its usual domineering presence. No Spirit Light shimmered on the blade, nor was any blade aura unleashed.
It looked like a simple, uncomplicated strike. At this moment, Shen Lang was like a novice just beginning to learn Sword Skill.
He simply repeated the dull, monotonous movements, his blade dancing on.
First form, second form, third form... seventh form.
With every form he executed, he was certain to cleave a falling bamboo leaf in half.
