Rose's fingers tightened around the hilt of her long sword, her eyes narrowing with determination as she prepared for the imminent battle. Her sword shimmered with a faint, ethereal glow, charged with the raw power of the wind element. It hummed as if eager to be unleashed, its blade cutting through the air with the promise of swift destruction. The wind around her stirred, echoing the rising tension of the confrontation.
The young man at the forefront of the purple-robed disciples sneered, his gaze cold and calculating. He studied Travis's group with arrogance, confident that his sect's reputation would strike fear into them. He stepped forward, his tone dripping with mockery. "Why don't you hurry up and reveal the method you've discovered?" His words were like a taunt, as if to suggest that no one could withstand the might of the Purple-Robed Sword Clan.
