As for everything else, especially regarding what the Tree had said about the wind, it had been wrong. Hadjar heard its whispers and stories. They were as real to him as this leaf, which remained a mystery to Hadjar.
Damned prophecy. Each practitioner and cultivator tried to follow the path that allowed them to rule their own destiny themselves. So, what could predictions possibly mean to someone who created their own future?
Hadjar put the leaf away and picked up a fallen branch from the ground. A simple, curved, dry branch... or so he would’ve thought before. Now he didn’t feel any different when wielding it or Moon Beam. For that, he was grateful to the Tree — it had given him the opportunity to face an enemy that had pushed him past his limits and forced him to evolve as a swordsman
