"Don't give it to me." Mirai said, reaching out to take it.
The middle-aged man dodged Mirai's hand and rubbed his nose. "No matter how small mosquitoes are, they're still meat," he said.
Mirai: "..."
"Alright, there's nothing else. I'm leaving."
The middle-aged man put away the money, then shouted at Mirai with a serious expression. After that, he ignored Mirai's reply and vanished from the spot. Watching the middle-aged man leave, Mirai fell silent. After thinking about it for a moment, he understood the man's purpose.
The man wasn't worried that he wouldn't be able to complete the mission at all. He had come here to ask him for money!
Mirai vented his anger inwardly, then stopped caring about it. To him, the money on hand was like a blank sheet of paper. He merely wanted to have an idea for the future.
Shaking his head, Mirai's body was shrouded in an illusion. A gust of wind blew, and Mirai vanished from where he stood. Once again, he had arrived deep within a lush forest.
"My previous breakthrough in swordsmanship came from having no distractions and understanding the intent to sever with the sword. If that's the case..."
Mirai thought to himself, then moved his hand. A wooden stick appeared in his grasp. He then used the stick as a sword, swinging it through the air. In this forest, he connected with his previous state of mind.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...
A simple wooden stick still whistled fiercely in Mirai's hands. Yet somehow, after practicing for half an hour, Mirai still could not reproduce that previous slash...
"Artistic conception?"
Mirai muttered. Then he slowly closed his eyes, calming his restless heart and maintaining his composure, allowing his mind to gradually become a little sharper.
When he looked at the large