The camp, now a hubbub of subdued activity, faded into the background as Eric, flask of hot soup in hand, made his way toward the cave entrance. The path wound along the long stretch of the Azure Dragon skeleton, its colossal bone structure casting elongated shadows in the afternoon light.
As he walked, Eric's soul sense swept over the caves, his keen eyes taking note of the various disciples immersed in their cultivation. Most sat in deep meditation, their postures a testament to their dedication. A few were engaged in honing their fighting techniques, their movements fluid and precise.
His attention, however, was momentarily captured by the sight in cave number 28. There, an Arul sect disciple was practicing a sword art, wielding a heavy two-handed sword that dwarfed his own stature.
