1918. Bald

Sword Saint couldn't help but finding some sense in the woman's words. He had never been delusional, so he had always considered mistakes and flaws that could affect his belief. The sword's path was immense, and it could even appear endless at times, but the expert felt confident in his ability and dedication. He would reach the end of that path and embody the final blade.

His relatively smooth growth had also been one of the main reasons behind his firm belief. Sword Saint had needed help at times, especially during his meeting with Noah in the Immortal Lands. Still, he had always managed to overcome his bottlenecks, and those achievements had managed to bring him on the edges of the eighth rank. One step forward was enough to reach the next realm.

Sword Saint almost laughed at how easily his firm conviction could crumble. He had found materials that he couldn't cut throughout his life, but that difficulty always came from a sheer difference of power.