The setting sun painted the training grounds in hues of gold and amber, casting long shadows that danced across the well-trodden earth. Zhen Yi's gaze, softened by the warm glow of twilight, lingered on his fellow disciples, each figure a testament to the arduous yet fulfilling journey they had undertaken together.
Elder Mei, the epitome of stoicism, stood with a posture that mirrored the resilience instilled by years of disciplined training. Her eyes, though calm, bore the depth of experiences shared with Zhen Yi and the others. A silent acknowledgment passed between them, a recognition of growth and unity.
Beside Elder Mei, Elder Zhao exuded an air of seasoned wisdom, his weathered features telling tales of battles fought and victories earned. As he clasped Zhen Yi's shoulder, the gesture conveyed not just farewell, but a passing of the torch—a subtle acceptance of Zhen Yi's evolution from student to a practitioner of formidable skill.
