Ethan Brooks's residence was located to the north of the marquis's manor, one of the most secluded courtyards in the entire estate. At this moment, it was early morning—the busiest time of day in the marquis's household. Hundreds, even thousands, of servants were bustling about: cleaning the residence, preparing meals, trimming the gardens, coming and going, creating a lively and prosperous scene.

However, compared to the “bustling activity” of the other courtyards, this one was extremely quiet—so quiet that, aside from a handful of people, it seemed as if no servant even remembered that a seventh young master of the marquis's family lived here.

After coming downstairs, Ethan Brooks entered his own courtyard and simply stood in the center of the grassy lawn, closed his eyes, and let his mind become more tranquil than ever before, practicing the set of “soft, awkward, so feeble that even old folks could easily perform it” boxing techniques that Lily Foster had described!

As for the origins of this boxing form, where it came from—not to mention the learned martial arts masters, even Ethan Brooks himself, who was performing it, could not say for sure.

The moves he performed could hardly be called a boxing form at all; in fact, they could not be classified under any martial arts terminology. There was no discernible pattern to his fists and steps; at first glance, it was full of flaws and seemed to have no combat value whatsoever. Anyone with even the most basic martial training could probably come up with dozens of ways to counter it.

And in fact, that was exactly the case.

Because, at this moment, what Ethan Brooks was performing was entirely a matter of intent!

Having just finished refining the “Divine Moon” star, which was millions of kilometers away in the sky, he had expended an enormous amount of spiritual energy. Even after meditating for a while to recover, he still could not return to his peak in such a short time. Now, every strike, every movement, even every breath and heartbeat in his boxing followed the instincts of his body. However his body felt most comfortable—how to punch, how to step, how to move, how to breathe—he simply let his body carry out those instructions!

As this formless, patternless boxing continued, all fifty-two single acupoints, three hundred and nine paired acupoints, and forty-eight extraordinary points throughout his body stretched and opened up, resonating and communicating freely with everything in the world. His exhausted spirit and weary body seemed to undergo a baptism and transformation, rapidly recovering in a truly astonishing way...

“Senior brother, why did you come here...”

At the entrance to the courtyard, a young woman in a light long dress called out softly and walked toward the gate.

Before she could finish her sentence, the young man at the archway—whom she had addressed as senior brother—immediately raised his hand, signaling her to be quiet.

This young man appeared extraordinary, exuding a sharp aura from head to toe. Standing there, he was like a treasured sword still sheathed—its sword intent fierce, yet hidden and unexpressed.

At this moment, another pair—a man and a woman—who had come with the woman in the long dress, also approached. Seeing the young man staring unblinkingly into the courtyard, they too looked inside. But when the three of them saw Ethan Brooks's boxing, which seemed full of flaws, a strange expression appeared on their faces.

The straightforward woman in the long dress couldn't help but let out a laugh: “Is this... is this boxing? Not only is there no form at all, but... why... why does it look so awkward...”

The man and woman who had come with her both looked a bit embarrassed, as if they felt that Ethan Brooks's practice was a disgrace to the marquis's household.

The man quickly cupped his hands and said, “Miss Grace Cooper, this is just a servant's boxing form—crude and unrefined, hardly worthy of your attention!” With that, he hurriedly turned to the young man at the gate and said, “Sir Logan Bennett, there’s really nothing worth seeing here. If you’re interested, may I boldly invite you to our marquis's martial hall to watch the performances of our younger generation and guards?”

Logan Bennett!

Sword Saint Logan Bennett!

One of the three greatest young experts of the Great Qi Dynasty, only twenty-four years old, already having reached the supreme ninth level of Qi cultivation. It was said he was the most likely among all the young talents in Great Qi to advance to the Dao of Alchemy. Even the master of the marquis's household, Marquis Wu Wei Jack Brooks, would have to treat him with utmost respect—a true master of the sword!

Such a figure was undoubtedly one of the most powerful in the entire Great Qi Dynasty. If he advanced further and reached the pinnacle of the Dao of Alchemy, even the emperor himself would have to treat him as an equal, never daring to put on imperial airs before him.

Yet at this moment, this young man known as the Sword Saint—the idol of all young cultivators—wore a strange expression. He glanced covertly at the marquis's eldest son, Owen Brooks, who had just spoken, and silently repeated to himself: “A servant's boxing form... crude and unrefined...” He truly didn’t know what to say.