At the entrance of Yuan Martial Arts Academy.
A young boy, eyes closed, hugging a pair of mother-and-son swords, stood like a peerless swordsman with his back against a willow tree, as if waiting for something.
In front of him stood a pale-faced scholar who seemed like he was about to recite poetry to the roadside willow tree.
Beside him sat a yawning old beggar, who even lay down on his side as if utterly bored.
Behind him, on the other side of the willow tree, stood a beautiful woman seeking shade under the tree.
Surrounding them were passersby in a hurry.
Today, there seemed to be an unusually high number of people passing by the street at the entrance of Yuan Martial Arts Academy.
Attracted by the boy's peculiar behavior, quite a few people stopped, whispering to each other.
A gentle breeze blew by, carrying fresh willow leaves from the branches into the air and also lightly stirring the youth's long, fine hair.
It was at this moment that the young man opened his eyes.
