Zich took in a deep breath andgrippedhis sword. The fresh morning air filled up his lungs.
He tightly held onto his sword. He heaved a few breaths in and out and warmed up for a bit.
The sharp sword cut the air in front of him, and the morning dew shivered in surprise at his quick movements.
He moved his foot with natural ease, and the unfettered dirt let out a stream of dust.
Then, he placed someweight on his moving feet andspun himself. The force from the spin was transferred onto his shoulders, arms, and to the very tip of his sword.
His movements were beautiful yet menacing. The sunlight seeped in through the tree leaves and shattered on the sword ina multitude oflights.
Swish! Swish! Swishh!
Zich used a different type of sword movement. Before, his movement was sharp as glass, but now, it was heavy as a bludgeon. His sword style kept changing. It became slow and then fast, sharp and then soft.
Zich graduallylost track of time.
He stopped moving his sword around and calmed his breathing. His whole body was covered in sweat.
‘My condition is better than I thought.’
He clenched his fist and opened it. His hands wererough but pale,representative of a nineteen-year-oldbody.
Atnineteenyears old,Zichhadn’t learned sword fighting, but he hadcompletedthe basics to hone his body.Of course, it was incomparableto the days when he was called the ‘Demon Lord of Strength.’.Considering his age, however,itwas in good shape.
‘It’s actuallybetterthat I didn’t learn any sword fighting.’
Zich’s current body was like a raw, untouched stone. It was a body that had fundamental strength but no basic structure. If he poured in his experience and expertise from his days as the ‘Demon Lord of Strength,’ he would be able to progress at an exponential rate.
‘I feel a bit bitter thinking about the reason why I received no basic training though.’
No matter how much the Countdidnot want to pass down his sword fighting techniques to Zich, his family was called the metal fortress. There should have always been a way for him to learn sword fighting.
‘I was so desperate for my father’s approval that I wasn’t even willing to glance at sword fighting techniques other than the specialonespassed down in this family.’
It was not that Zich was desperate to succeed as heir or learn sword fighting—he merely wanted to gain his father’s attention and approval.
‘Reflecting back, I really was innocent.’
If people realized that the ‘Demon Lord of Strength, Zich Moore’ used to be a weak and vulnerable boy in his youth, they would all be paralyzed in shock.
‘Well, I did suffer a lot after I left the family.’
Before Zich was able to earn the title of
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