The reason Eryke called her "little devil" was because of the endless trouble she caused him. Just solving her problems was headache-inducing and a complete waste of his time.

She wasn't the type to be bullied, far from it. She was strong, and her sense of justice was even stronger which was the real problem.

Having a knack for fighting and beating bullies also lands you in trouble though.

This was an orthodox faction. Unlike the Demonic or Shadow factions, they placed great importance on discipline and face.

And as her master, Eryke had to explain her actions every single time.

More than once, Eryke felt an inexplicable urge to kill and slaughter everyone in the Mount Hua Sect. It was a subconscious impulse, nothing more, he would never actually do such a thing. Would he?

Anyway, he looked on as an angry man with a bald head stormed in, dragging along his equally bald-headed disciple. The disciple's blue eyes glared defiantly, but his clothes were torn to shreds.

"This is what your disciple did to mine!" the bald master shouted furiously.

Eryke calmly took a sip of his tea before shifting his gaze to his own disciple.

"Master, this bad guy hurt the sparrow," she said, her voice dripping with righteous indignation.

Eryke turned his eyes toward the bald man and raised an eyebrow.

"This… this…" the bald master stammered, his words breaking apart as if his throat had locked up. Just one look from Eryke's eyes had left him pale and trembling. His gaze darted to the sparrow perched nearby. "It's… it's clearly alive and well! What do you mean I hurt it?"

The little girl stuck out her tongue and made a teasing noise, "What do you mean alive and well? It's only because my Master healed it."

"What?" The bald man rubbed his ears in disbelief. His eyes flicked toward Eryke, who sat there calmly sipping his tea. "Are you saying your master healed the sparrow?" He needed to confirm it, surely, he must have heard wrong.

"That's right." She nodded her head proudly, chest puffed out.

"H… how!?" The bald master's voice cracked, his shock beyond words. "A man with a sword Will… can heal!?"

"My master can do anything," the little girl declared with absolute conviction.

Eryke remained as calm as ever.

The bald master staggered backward in an almost comical fashion, nearly tripping over himself, "How! How!?" he shouted, eyes wide in disbelief.

The little girl blinked at his overreaction, utterly confused. Was she really saying something wrong?

"A Sword Will should never be able to perform Healing Martial Arts…" the bald master muttered under his breath, his face pale. "If a Sword Will can heal, then the greatest weakness of swordsmen would vanish."

"That's right, you bald donkey! My master is a monster!" the little girl declared proudly.

"I… I…" The bald master grabbed his disciple in a fluster and hurriedly rushed out, his words lost in panic.

"Eh? Why did they leave so early?" she tilted her head, puzzled.

"It's nothing," Eryke commented lightly. By now, he had integrated nearly all the sword knowledge from the sect's library, not just theirs, but also from the Demonic Faction and the Shadow Faction.

This had caused his Sword Will to undergo a vast transformation, birthing strange and unexpected abilities.

Now, he could use his Sword Will to heal living creatures, to calm his mind during meditation, and oddly enough, to perform arithmetic calculations.

You might be wondering, what the hell good is arithmetic in a fight? Well…

Eryke's eyes shifted toward the little devil who was carefully avoiding his gaze.

With just a glance, he could calculate the exact distance to strike, predict her next movement from the slightest twitch of a muscle, and cut off every attempt she might make to escape his attack and so on and so forth.

But honestly, it was headache-inducing to calculate everything.

Even with the help of his hivemind, which allowed him to divide the task among his clones, they were all too busy with their own matters. So while the ability seemed ridiculously overpowered on the surface, in practice it was far less useful.

'Sigh.' Eryke drained the last sip of his tea, washed the cup clean with a flick, and rose to his feet. Without a care, he strolled out casually.

"Master, did you forgive me?" the little devil asked, her bright gaze full of expectation.

Eryke paused for a moment before replying, "No." Without another word, he stepped outside to calm his mind through meditation.

He had long since noticed that his Sword Will faintly grew whenever he sharpened his mind and tempered his disposition.

But his Sword Will had already advanced to such heights that only the most potent of methods could truly refine it further. Meditation alone could not push him past the limits, but over time, the steady accumulation would allow him to reach a decisive breakthrough.

For now, this was all he could do.

Eryke settled onto a rock and sat cross-legged. The wind brushed against him, setting his hair to flutter in the breeze, and his expression gradually returned to serenity.

***

"You're saying the Guest Elder healed the bird?"

"That's right, Master Fubo." The bald master bowed respectfully. Before him stood a middle-aged man in Taoist robes.

This man, known as Master Fubo, was the one who had invited Eryke to the Mount Hua Sect. He was a first-stage Martial Artist and one of the sect's respected elders.

"But how is that possible?" Master Fubo muttered, pacing in circles as his expression grew increasingly restless. "I was certain I saw him use Sword Will before, to think it could also heal?"

In the end, he exhaled a long sigh.

"Leave."

The bald master hurriedly excused himself.

Now alone, Master Fubo remained in silent contemplation for a time before striding quickly out of the room.

"I have to ask the Sect Leader," he mumbled.

The Sect Leader held the highest position in the sect. Though he, too, was only a first-stage Martial Artist like Master Fubo, his status was far above, and his knowledge even greater.

As for strength, well, that was another matter entirely.

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