In the blink of an eye, ten years quietly slipped by.
In the tenth year, Ye Lin's small courtyard in the western district of Holy Blade City had gained a modest reputation. Some blade cultivators privately called it the Meticulous Courtyard.
Though no one could explain what was so wondrous about the courtyard, more and more blade cultivators whose state of mind had stagnated, whose path of the blade had left them lost, came here.
Some stood silently outside the courtyard, while others gathered their courage to enter and watch Ye Lin walk, sensing that peculiar tranquility and focus.
Throughout it all, no one spoke to disturb him.
Cultivators who had just arrived would first silently bow to Ye Lin, then watch in silence.
Those leaving would also bow to Ye Lin beforehand.
No matter how violent a cultivator's temper, upon coming here, their originally frenzied heart would gradually calm.
Some left with a sudden realization, their understanding of the blade path improving. Others merely felt their mood settle.
Naturally, he knew about these blade cultivators.
Yet he did not stop them, allowing them to observe as they pleased.
Every single one of these cultivators shared the same flaw.
They had strayed from their original heart.
Having reached their current realms and positions, they had become separated from who they once were.
As time passed, they had even become so engrossed in strength that they could not pull themselves free. They no longer knew why they drew their blades, or why they practiced the blade.
And when Ye Lin walked, he no longer completely sealed himself off.
At times, he would release a thread of exceedingly faint divine sense, stripped of all the sharpness of Sword Qi, leaving behind only the core will to temper oneself and press onward, to