The person entering the courtyard was about thirty years old, tall, with long hair like clouds, an extraordinary heroic spirit between his brows, and bright, penetrating eyes. He wore a green and white Immortal Robe adorned with stars, the sun, and moon.
In the courtyard, there were two other people.
One of them was a young boy, kneeling beside a huge green-black sword sharpening stone, completely absorbed.
The boy was about fifteen or sixteen years old, slightly thin in stature, dressed in coarse linen. He held a black long sword, ancient in style but with no visible sharpness, which he pushed back and forth on the stone with extreme slowness and stability.
His movements carried an indescribable rhythm, each push seeming to pour in all of his heart and spirit.
Sweat slid down his still juvenile cheeks, dripping onto the stone, instantly evaporating from the high temperature caused by the sword's friction, making a light hissing sound.
