The manor's training grounds had fell silent.
Han-ju was standing across from Jang Tae-Won, he gripped his wooden sword tightly. His bare knuckles were white, his breathing was controlled, but Seo Ryung could see a slight tension in his stance.
He was visibly nervous.
He had every right to be.
Jang Tae-Won wasn't just some random guard from the Murim Alliance. He was a seasoned warrior, someone who was used to fighting on real battlefields.
And he was just toying with him.
His smirk was relaxed, he looked almost amused, as if this were nothing more than just a game to him.
"Well, come on kid, whenever you're ready," Jang Tae-Won boredly said.
Han-ju didn't let his nervousness consume him.
He moved.
He took a sharp step forward, his wooden sword was slicing through the air toward his ribs.
Fast. He was faster than most would expect from someone his size.
However, Jang Tae-Won barely moved, and with just a tilt of his body, his attack had missed, whistling past his side.
