Tian Ping had been moving through the Great Zhou Forest for several days, his path marked by the fallen kobolds he'd defeated and the shimmering Zhen crystals he’d collected from their remains. The dense forest, once filled with hidden dangers, now bore the scars of his battles—trees splintered from stray strikes, patches of scorched earth, and the lingering scent of burnt leaves.
Despite the exhaustion settling in his bones, Tian Ping felt a sense of purpose growing within him. His cultivation had deepened, and his understanding of the Dao of Swords had evolved with each encounter. "After so many battles, my sword dao has become much more refined," he thought, gripping the Zhen blade in his hand. "I’ve learned two more techniques that don’t send me into a blood-hungry frenzy. They might not be as powerful as the Soul Severing Slash, but they're still formidable."
Just as he was about to reflect further on his newfound abilities, a sudden cry shattered the silence of the forest.
"HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE!"
The desperate voice echoed through the trees, cutting through the stillness like a blade. Tian Ping's eyes narrowed, his senses sharpening as he turned toward the source of the sound.
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