Hove Violet Leaves
The cold winter breeze was blowing and a bone-piercing chill permeated the air.
On a small field, Leylin was practising his cross-blade techniques while half-naked.
The muscles on his chest had become more defined. Although not very prominent, they were very robust, exuding a sense of vitality.
Forward! Uppercut! Pierce! Every move was a flawless, textbook-perfect execution.
After Leylin finished his training, Anna– who was observing from the side– hurriedly ran forward and handed him a white towel.
Leylin dried his sweat and called his stats onto his visual field.
“A.I. Chip, what is the progress from today’s training?”