At this moment, none of the Saint disciples were sleeping; everything that had happened a few hours ago seemed to still linger before their eyes.
They understood that the power they had witnessed was not something they could resist in their current state!
So they were more determined than ever to cultivate relentlessly!
The Saint Master nurtures them to face formidable foes, not to hide behind him every time!
They stood up, clenched their fists tightly, and their gazes turned toward the window.
A lone and arrogant silhouette appeared; the Saint Master sat on the chair brimming with might and grandeur... uh... wait, the scene suddenly seemed off. They realized the Saint Master was currently sitting cross-legged on the chair, yawning nonstop.
All the Saint disciples had imagined the Saint Master standing tall, his hands behind his back, planting the Black Sword firmly into the ground, waiting for the surging undercurrents to arrive.
